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cameronspecial · 2 months

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A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster.

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom.

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door.

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder. With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden.

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.”

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second.

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail.

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person.

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom.

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.”

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show.

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart.

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.”

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. ��I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?”

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

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sharksupermacy · 12 days

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The Feels

The Feels- haerin x lee! trainee! reader

synopsis: i just wanted to make a follow up about on your mind

genre: fluff, timeskip, haerin being a cat, reader being a ghibli fan but specifically just a my neighbor Totoro fan, haerin being low key tired of trader flirting and yet still likes it, boo schedules y’all let haey/n be together, reader actually having short term memory 0.6k words ish?

a day couldn’t get better than this.

it was a weekend. you had spent a solid three hours asleep now cuddling your sister group member or more commonly now known as your girlfriend behind many locked doors of the entertainment industry. you could feel the warmth of her hug around your waist when waking up. the window has let in the warm sunlight making your girlfriend cuddle closer to inhale your scent. you turned to face your sleeping girlfriend.

she couldn’t be this beautiful the pink hue of the sunset tinting entirety of the room. you couldn’t help admire your girlfriend… haerin. you felt yourself naturally so entranced with the girl who was the same age as you. how could she just be this pretty and yet so different from you. your hand naturally weaving into her hair running through the intrinsically soft fibers as you continued to admire her beauty from upclose.

“what are you doing?” was the question that fell from your girlfriend who you thought was sleeping.

“just admiring you hae. you should fall back asleep.” you suggested to the black hair girl as you slowly stop moving your hand in her hair. as if being a cat caught in an act of doing something wrong. (ikr ironic since hae’s a cat-)

“a little hard when someone is petting my hair and is staring at my face from 6 inches away.” she quipped back as she got up from her sleeping position to take a peak at the sunset.

“right. sorry.” a quick apology fell upon your lips to apologize to the kang as you wrapped your body around hers with the blanket. gently cuddling her as you let your chin settled onto the shorter girl to look at the sunset. “if it makes you feel better there’s a sunset.”

“yet it still reminds me of how yet your going to leave soon.” she jested.

“time is fleeting but your beauty isn’t-“ and that was the phrase that had landed a smack in the face with a pillow.

“stop saying cheesy lines. flirt.” your girlfriend said seriously but you could see the soft smile on her face and a faint pink tinge across her cheek. maybe it could be the sunset, who knows. you lingered on her face for a second before looking at the sunset with her again.

“do you want to watch a movie after we have dinner with your members and my sister?” you said intertwining your hands over her hands which seemed to fit ever too perfectly in your opinion.

“depends. what are we watching” the shorter girl responds.

“what about my neighbor to-“ you suggested.

“respectfully honey… we’ve watch that two times alone… today…” she cuts you off.

“then what you like to watch. we have the entirety of the rest of the day after dinner… and my netflix or should i say my parents netflix account.” you nonchalantly stated as you played with her hands in yours.

“maybe… La La Land…?” the catlike girl recommended.

“maybe…” you muttered off.

after dinner

you had sat comfortably on the bed booting up your computer in haerin bed once again. scrolling through the account and the light clacking of the keyboard filling the silence of the dorm room.

“did you find the movie?” a gentle voice asked at the door.

“what movie are we watching again?” you asked as you looked away from the laptop to meet with eyes with your girlfriend who was wearing your hoodie.

“la la land,” she reminded you having a sip of her tea before carefully placing it on the table beside the bed. you had type the movie into the search bar and it came up a purple background alongside two characters who seemed like they were dancing.

“i can’t believe you love cheesy stuff like this,” you mumbled underneath your breath as a small frown forms on haerin lips. she gently pinches your exposed arms as a warning. “sorry… you fell for my corny flirting.” you apologized.

“you better be…” she said hugging you from behind as you passed her the other headphones.

both of you had settled in laying against her soft pillows up against the head rest of her bed as the laptop was between you both on your laps. your arm laid on her shoulder as she used your arm as her personal pillow to lean her head against. it was nice… a perfect way to end the day.

when would this type of day would occur again? hopefully soon.

a small smiled had found its way to your lips as the ends of your lips curl up ever so slightly. you scoot closer to your girlfriend who was entranced in the romance musical as the orange hue of her room lights surrounded both her and you.

author notes: sorry y’all for being dead for so long… not me ghosting you guys for a good 5 months… I’m good. Just school and stuff got too much… should be coming back soon with more stuff. also yall with 300?! while im away- thanks so much like fr tho-

#haerin imagine #kang haerin x reader #haerin x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines

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c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak · 1 month

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Tingling Screeches

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: After having the brilliant idea to watch a movie with your long-term crush at camp, things don't necessarily go your way as you get reminded just how much you hate horror movies.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Horror Movie'

*Gif does not belong to me

Even though it was the middle of the day at Camp Half-Blood, your cabin was empty. Save for you and Clarisse of course. With the artful act of bribery, you were able to convince all of your half brothers and sisters to leave the small building completely empty for the next few hours all so you and Clarisse could watch one of the latest horror movies to come out.

It had taken some time trying to set everything up. Finding someone to supply you with a fully functioning laptop was one thing, but asking Clarisse to actually join you was another, even if you never explicitly asked her on a date, more of just a hangout. But you had done it and now you were sitting with her by your side cramped onto one of the bunk beds while the laptop sat in between the two of you.

Your choice of location for the laptop hadn't been the best as it left a good distance between you both, leaving no room for accidental shoulder brushes, though the popcorn that had also been propped between them could lead to some hand grazing. Still, it would be filled with butter.

The movie hadn't been the best decision either. When recommending a horror movie, you did it with the intent to spark Clarisse's interest, which you easily did since you had heard her talking about this movie in passing to her friends. But actually sat in front of it and watched the gruesome deaths of most of the cast, you were starting to think you picked something a little more suiting to your own tastes.

Every few seconds you seemed to jump, a quick thrash backwards into the pillow as if trying to push yourself away from the movie like you would do if on a quest and a monster was looming over you. You could feel your fight or flight instincts kicking in and though your body screamed at you to leave or at least turn off the movie, instead you ignored those feelings and stared forward, hoping that Clarisse was getting at least some enjoyment out of all of this.

When another scene flicked onto the screen, your immediate reaction was to whirl back, you felt a shift in the bed as the popcorn was moved and pushed to the end of the bunk along with the laptop. Your confusion was enough to draw you away from the movie as you looked over at Clarisse who seemed to be getting up.

You blew it, was the first thought that came to mind as you saw what you thought was Clarisse getting up. To your surprise though, she instead scooted herself over, plopping herself down directly next to you. Shocked, you couldn't utter a peep but had enough power to stare at Clarisse as she brought the food and movie back, balancing them on her legs before getting comfortable next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in the process.

"What?" Clarisse muttered in a low drawl once she noticed your eyes and how they hadn't turned back to the movie. If you hadn't known what to say before, you were rendered speechless now. Up this close, you could see every spec of flaming brown in Clarisse's eyes, the way her hair coiled and how her lips tinged. Instead of taking your silence as being breathless, she took it as a challenge. "Can I not do something nice?"

"Of course you can," The words rushed out of you, quick to try and ease any growing tensions within Clarisse. Though they may have been rushed out, they seemed to do the job as Clarisse relaxed a little bit further, fully leaning against you while also pulling you closer as she turned to watch the movie.

You were content to stare at her for a few more moments before her voice came barreling towards you, "Watch the movie."

Then your head snapped back, eyes landing on the screen at the perfect time for a jump scare to come a few seconds later. A quick exhale of air as all the oxygen left your lungs matched with a small jump was your usual response to a certain scene like this.

Only this time, Clarisse had her arm wrapped around you, her fingers drawing circles into your skin as a comforter as she never drew her eyes off the movie. And by some miracle, you felt whatever she was doing starting to work.

Every time a new jumpscare or particularly gory scene was meant to pop up, Clarisse seemed to know in advance as she shifted, putting you in a position where there was no need to jump back as her comforting hold was already on you.

By the time the movie had reached its end, you hardly had to worry about a scene coming up, Clarisse giving you all the warning you needed to be prepared for when it did. So as the end credits came rolling in, the two of you slowly made your way to the outside of your cabin for some fresh air.

The light was blinding after spending well over an hour in the dark, but you didn't mind as you could still feel the presence of Clarisse near.

"So," You began, drumming your fingers along your thighs as you stood across from one another. With a halfhearted smile, you announced, "That was fun."

"Really?" Giving you a deadpan expression, Clarisse cracked a smile of her own. "You seemed like you'd rather fight the gods themselves than watch that movie again."

"So horror movies aren't really my thing," You nervously chuckled, ignoring what she had said in favour of not actually considering which option you would rather be faced with. "But I had you there with me, so it wasn't that bad. It seemed like you knew whenever something bad was going to happen anyway so I didn't need to worry too much."

"Yeah," Clarisse agreed. "I watched it the other day with one of my brothers but seeing it again was nice. Got to look at all the smaller details, you know?"

"Right..." You trailed off, slightly disappointed that it hadn't been the first time Clarisse saw the movie. You also couldn't understand what details someone would want to see in a movie like that.

"Anyway, it was fun. We should catch another movie sometime," She offered, making your mood do a full 180 as a smile split across your face. "I've got to go now anyway, strategies for later to plan. Maybe I'll see you on my team for Capture the Flag if you speak with your head counsellor."

"I'll get onto that," You called after Clarisse as she had already turned, a laugh echoing off her lips as she dashed away.

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 3 days

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I hate you, too

Summary: Ruby is your acting rival as well as your sworn enemy. When you’re cast in the same movie, you struggle with the fight choreography, an area which your co-star excels at. What will you do when you have no choice but to swallow your pride and ask her for extra help?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, some adult humor, kissing, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, walked in on while changing, non-sexual knife play, clumsy!reader, publicity tweets, there was only One Trailer

Word Count: 6.6k (told you it’s a slow burn)

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction, RPF Guidelines still stand. Morally, I refuse to write smut for Ruby Cruz. That being said, I miss writing smut!! Dying to write some Kit Tanthalos smut after this, if anyone has a request feel free to send it in. That being said, Ruby is always super fun to write for, and I hope y’all enjoy! :)

———

If you never saw Ruby Cruz again, it would be too soon.

You first encountered her shortly after moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. During a meeting with your agent to discuss a contract, she entered unannounced, as if the office belonged to her.

“Hey Estelle, I’m here to pick up the ‘Mare of Easttown’ audition sides,” she stated, barely glancing in your direction.

Estelle handed her a stack of papers before introducing you. “This is Ruby Cruz, one of my regular clients. You two will likely be seeing a lot of each other.”

Ruby finally turned toward you, assessing you with her bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul. She gave you a curt smile, and offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Estelle’s the best; you’re gonna love her.”

You shook her hand as Estelle chuckled at the flattery, shaking her head and modestly dismissing it.

“Ruby has an audition next week for that ‘Mare of Easttown’ show… which reminds me! I think you could also be a good fit for that. We can discuss more later, but for now, let me at least get you the audition sides.”

Estelle began to gather nearby papers into a stack, stapling the corner before handing them to you. Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought of acting in a show as notable as ‘Mare of Easttown.’

Ruby hummed, clucking her tongue as you flipped through the stack of papers. Glancing up at her from your seat, you could have sworn you saw her eyes squint, almost as if she now saw you as nothing more than competition.

“In that case, hope you break a leg.”

With a wave goodbye to Estelle, she left the office. You couldn’t place it at the time, but something about her tone felt… off.

The audition came and went, and it was just your luck that Ruby ended up landing the role. Of course, it became her breakout role, one that juiced up her resume and propelled her career.

Initially, it didn’t bother you that much; after all it was just one audition. However, given that you were both conventionally attractive actresses in the same age range, Estelle frequently recommended you for the same roles. You began to see her face at every single audition, and frankly, you were sick of it.

That’s not to say you lost every role to Ruby Cruz; sure she was your competition, but you both had your share of the limelight. She was Hazel Callahan in “Bottoms,” and you were Harper McCallington in “Out & Uncool.” While she was busy filming for “Willow” as Princess Kit Tanthalos, you starred as Empress Kian Thorne in a limited series entitled “Cottonwood.”

You were a tad jealous that Ruby landed a continuing series while yours was limited, so when you found out about “Willow” being abruptly canceled after one season, you couldn’t help but revel in the schadenfreude.

Despite your individual successes, you harbored a deep dislike for Ruby. Yes, she was pretty, with pale blue eyes and dark hair that offset her ivory skin, but watching her stride into every audition wearing that all-too-familiar smug smile only fueled your resentment and made your blood boil.

Several months after moving to LA, one particular audition day commenced with a morning from hell. You woke up groggy with your hair in a rats nest, and spent the majority of the morning battling with the bathroom mirror in an attempt to render yourself presentable. Once you could actually run a comb through it, a quick glance at a clock revealed you were running late. Hastily, you grabbed your resume, poured some of your roommates' leftover coffee into a travel mug, and dashed out the door in a race against time.

Curses flew out of your mouth while you sat in the infamous LA traffic, fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while your eyes darted towards the clock.

Arriving at the audition site, you parked haphazardly and rushed to the entrance, coffee sloshing against your mug with every step. Pushing open the doors, you immediately caught sight of the very person you knew you would see but secretly wished you wouldn’t.

There was Ruby, sitting in the waiting room, too focused on studying her audition material to even notice you had walked in. She wore a white blouse with floral patterns, jeans, and white converse—an undoubtedly effortless outfit that looked so good on her, it genuinely annoyed you.

Shaking your head, you tried to push aside any thoughts of Ruby and focus on the audition. As you stepped towards the sign-in table, your notorious clumsiness struck as you mis-stepped and tripped over your own foot. Fortunately, you managed to catch yourself before face-planting, but you lost control of your mug, ending up spilling coffee all over your sworn enemy.

Ruby stood up in shock, the lukewarm liquid staining her white blouse and smudging the ink on her papers. She lifted her head, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell!” She exclaimed.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in shock. “Shit, Ruby, I’m so…”

“You did that on purpose!”

The brewing apology halted at her accusation. Indignation swelled within you, and the urge to defend yourself took over.

“Excuse me? It was an accident! Jesus!”

“You don’t think I know you don’t like me?” She spat back. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

By now, everyone else in the waiting room was watching the two of you, while the stage manager at the sign-in table desperately tried to de-escalate the situation.

You felt your face flush at the unwanted attention as you attempted to lower your voice. “Ruby, I may not be your biggest fan, but I would never do something like that on purpose.”

“Oh please, I know your type. You would do anything to land a role, even if it’s underhanded!”

“For fucks sake, Ruby!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated at this conversation. “I land roles just fine on my own. Not everything is about you!”

“You’re seriously standing here telling me that ‘not everything is about me’ when you’re the one who ruined my blouse right before an audition?!”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

You and Ruby turned your heads toward the unidentified voice to see what appeared to be the director of the project standing in the doorway. He peered down at the two of you with an icy glare, while the stage manager stood next to him with her arms crossed.

A gulp involuntarily forced its way down your throat. You looked over at Ruby, who stood frozen with all the color seemingly drained from her face. Both of you waited with baited breath for the director's next move as his nostrils flared.

“Both of you. Out. Now.”

“There’s good news, and bad news.”

You and Ruby stared at Estelle from across her desk, shame and embarrassment radiating from the both of you. Last week's altercation at the audition made headlines on LA Twitter news, prompting her to call an emergency meeting to discuss next steps.

“You already know the bad news,” Estelle sighed. “Word got out about your little ‘stunt.’ As of right now, neither of you have great reputations in the Hollywood eye.”

Estelle turned to look directly at you, making you shrink in your seat. “Not many people want to work with an actor who would sabotage another actor’s audition to get a leg-up.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but immediately closed it upon seeing the look on Estelle’s face. She looked away from you, focusing her attention on Ruby next.

“And no one wants to work with a hothead who causes scenes and goes on public cursing sprees.”

Ruby squirmed under Estelle’s scrutiny, looking down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

Estelle leaned back in her chair, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “Fortunately, there is some good news.”

Your ears perked up at this, curious as to what kind of good would come out of this kind of publicity. Glancing over at Ruby, you noticed she raised her gaze while still keeping her head lowered. Estelle continued.

“Another director caught wind of the situation and contacted me immediately. Apparently, he’s been toying with this idea for a movie about two rival mafia bosses who go undercover as high school cheerleaders. He is adamant that the two of you play the leading roles.”

Shock painted your features as you attempted to process what Estelle just told you. You looked over at Ruby, who seemed just as bewildered as you.

“So, this director wants to work with two people who can’t stand each other?” She inquired.

Estelle shrugged. “I’ve been told he’s very… method. Authenticity is everything to him, no matter what the consequences. Still, people say to trust his process because he’s extremely brilliant.”

She pulled out a couple business cards and handed them to the both of you, his name in thick black font jumping out from the white background.

Calvin Cunningham. Film Director.

Calvin Cunningham turned out to be quite the character.

He was brutally honest, always saying exactly what he thought of something. He engaged with the cast and crew as if they were his best friends, but if something wasn’t up to his standards, he never hesitated to voice his dissatisfaction.

His methods were eccentric and unusual, with an unwavering commitment to authenticity. They were unorthodox, but if they proved to be effective, he couldn’t care less about the cost.

On the first day of shooting, after being given your trailer assignment, you were about to go inside when you saw something that made you stop dead in your tracks. There, hanging on the back of the trailer door, was a big gold star with two names engraved into it.

Yours… and Ruby’s.

Outraged, you turned and marched towards Calvin, only to find him already in conversation with a head of loathsome brunette locks.

“This has to be some mistake,” cried Ruby. “I can’t share a trailer with her!”

“Ditto.” You piped up, moving to stand next to your rival.

Calvin shook his head. “No mistake. You guys can’t stand each other, and I want to maintain that energy throughout filming. I figured some forced proximity could help to fuel that fire.”

“Please, Calvin. I will literally share with anyone else,” you pleaded, words falling on deaf ears as Calvin simply turned and walked away from the two of you.

Ruby turned to glare at you with shrunken pupils, and you reciprocated with a side-eye right back. As you both began your way over to your shared trailer, you couldn’t help but acknowledge: this might be the first time you and Ruby actually agreed on something.

Filming was going well, all things considered. You and Ruby spent your days on set, hashing out all your hatred towards each other in front of the camera, and then pretty much ignored each other otherwise.

Changing could be slightly awkward, given the shared trailer, but you and Ruby had an unspoken agreement to keep to yourselves. Nevertheless, the trailer was a tight space, allowing you to see everything within your peripheral vision. Despite your disdain for Ruby, you couldn’t help but admire the delicate curve of her tapered waist and how it contrasted against her toned stomach. Even you could appreciate how her hair became disheveled every time she lifted a clothing item over her head, prompting her to shake it out until her short tresses tumbled over her shoulder.

You chalked it up to vanity, but sometimes you swore you caught her checking you out from the corner of her eye, too.

One day, while checking your schedule for the upcoming week, you noticed a choreography rehearsal planned for the big knife fight scene towards the end of the movie. Dread immediately consumed you, settling in your stomach like a boulder reaching the bottom of a hill.

It wasn’t because you were worried about getting into a knife fight with Ruby; you knew the weapons were harmless props and posed no threat to your safety. You dreaded any kind of choreography rehearsal, as you were notoriously an uncoordinated klutz. It was like you bore a curse of delayed reaction times and two left feet—a burden that weighed on your shoulders like an anchor.

On the day of the rehearsal, you walked into the stunt room to see Ruby already there, stretching in yoga pants and a crop top that hung just below her ribcage. Calvin stood in the corner conversing with the choreographer, Lucas: an effeminate man with a muscular build that offset his short stature.

Minutes after you started stretching, Lucas blew his whistle, calling you and Ruby over to the center of the room.

“Hey guys! Hope you’re as excited as I am to do some fight choreography.” He chirped, flashing a toothy grin.

While Lucas spoke, your attention shifted to Ruby. She stood confidently, her hands resting on her hips as she listened for instructions. You rolled your eyes. Of course she was confident, she had plenty of combat training during “Willow,” and even more during “Bottoms.”

As much as you hated to admit it, this was one area where Ruby outshone you.

“In this scene,” Lucas explained, handing each of you a prop knife labeled with your characters names. “Quinn and Gia both realize they’re from rival mafia families, and draw their weapons at the regional cheer competition.”

You turned the knife over in your hand, running your thumb over the “Quinn” sticker on the handle. “Is this… a real knife?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, but it’s been dulled for your safety. Don’t worry.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing your lack of coordination posed less of a threat now.

Lucas continued. “For the first part, Quinn, advance towards Gia with the knife raised, like you want to slit her throat. Gia, sidestep and dodge her attack.”

You positioned your knife and lunged at Ruby, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding after she successfully avoided the blade.

Lucas nodded in approval. “Great! Now Gia, advance towards Quinn with your weapon, and she’ll block and engage.”

Ruby lunged at you, but when you tried to block her attack, the knife slipped from your grip and fell from your hand. Your face flushed as you stared at the blade, now lying on the plush mat.

“What was that?” Calvin interrupted, still watching from the corner of the room.

Lucas shot him a sheepish grin. “It’s ok, Calvin. It’s just the first rehearsal.”

Calvin grumbled incoherently as you bent down to pick up your knife. You noticed Ruby’s lips curl into a subtle smirk at your mishap, provoking an eye-roll from you.

“Let’s try that again,” Lucas stated. “This time, Gia, why don’t you try advancing a little slower?”

Ruby nodded, and moved towards you seemingly in slow-motion. This time, you managed the block successfully and engaged your weapons without issue.

Lucas beamed in approval. “Great! Let’s move on.”

He went on with instructions, leading you through the engagement of your weapons. Despite the slow pace, you repeatedly made a fool of yourself throughout the entire rehearsal. Sweaty palms hindered your grip on the knife, and you even managed to confuse your left from your right. Calvin stood fuming in the corner, while Ruby’s initially smug demeanor gradually turned into one of annoyance.

“Alright,” Lucas started, wiping his brow and forcing a tight smile. “For this last part, Gia, focus on disarming your opponent, and then tackle her. Quinn, this should be pretty easy. All you have to do is keep yourself open and fall.”

You gulped and assumed the ‘ready’ position, locking eyes with Ruby. She advanced, carefully redirecting your blade before grabbing your shoulders to push you onto your back. Unfortunately, as you were going down, a misstep caused you to lose your footing. Your arms flailed out of instinct, and in the search for stability, you inadvertently dragged the blade across Ruby’s cheek, leaving a bright red cut in its wake.

Startled, she hissed and dropped you onto the mat, hands moving to cradle her injured cheek. “Ouch! What the hell?!”

Calvin and Lucas rushed to Ruby’s side while you stared at your freshly-bloodied knife and tried to process what had just happened. “I thought you said they were dulled!”

“Well yeah, but they’re still real knives!” Lucas exclaimed, moving Ruby’s hand to see the cut.

A stream of apologies flew from your mouth immediately, but Ruby only responded with an icy glare and Calvin mumbled something about the makeup artist before storming out of the room. A lump rose to your throat as you blinked back tears, humiliated and filled with guilt. Once again, your clumsiness managed to ruin things for the people around you.

As you got up to leave the room, you looked back and met Ruby’s gaze. This time, instead of annoyance or anger, her face held only a look of pity as she watched you walk away.

At the end of the day, after you and Ruby were no longer needed on set, you found yourself standing outside your shared trailer, hands wringing in anticipation for what you were about to do.

Despite your best efforts, you knew your struggle to grasp the fight choreography was impeding production. Ruby, on the other hand, excelled at stage combat. You needed the extra practice, and Lucas had already gone home. After several hours of contemplation, you resolved to set aside your pride and seek help from your sworn enemy.

With a deep breath, you entered the trailer. Ruby was already inside, dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra, clearly in the middle of changing. You felt your cheeks flush as she spun around, revealing a neon green band-aid on her right cheek.

“Ever heard of knocking?” She spat, covering herself defensively.

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “It’s my trailer too!”

She scoffed, turning around to finish putting her shirt on. You sighed, knowing the odds were already not in your favor.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” you began, prompting her to look back at you, puzzled. “Not about the trailer, but about the knife, and the coffee, and just… everything. I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m not, I’m just really accident-prone, and for that I’m sorry.”

Her gaze softened slightly, and she nodded, silently accepting your apology. You continued, avoiding eye contact for what you were about to ask.

“Listen… I need your help.”

Your words took her by surprise. “With what?”

“Fight choreography,” you pressed. “I know we don’t really get along, and I wouldn’t ask if I had literally any other option, but you’re incredible at stage combat. Please, I could really use the practice.

“No argument there,” she snarled. “But why should I help you?”

“Because we’re co-stars, if I look good, you look good. Besides, do you really want to risk another one of those?” You gestured to the band-aid on her cheek.

Ruby touched the bandaged wound, wincing from the pain.

Defeated, she groaned. “Fine, I’ll help you, but only on two conditions.”

She stepped closer until she was inches from your face, close enough that her warm breath grazed your skin. You felt the sharp jab of her finger in your chest as she locked eyes with you.

“First, during training, you do everything I say, exactly as I say it. And second…” she moved back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “…you owe me a favor.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “What do you want?”

“I’ll let you know when I think of something,” she replied. “As of right now, we have a fight to train for.”

You followed her to the stunt room, now fully unoccupied as most of the crew had gone home. Ruby switched on the lights and made her way to the props table while you took your spot on one of the mats.

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her nose as she picked up the knives you had used to train earlier. “I really don’t trust you with a weapon right now. No offense.”

“None taken,” you replied, pleasantly surprised at the lack of offense.

Ruby moved around the room in search of a safer substitute. She ended up at a supply cabinet, and sifted through it until she proudly held up a miniature pool noodle.

“Noodles!” She announced, grabbing one and handing you another.

“Perfect,” you exhaled, relieved.

Ruby assumed the ‘ready’ position across from you while you mirrored her stance, gripping the pool noodle as if it were your knife.

“Alright,” she started. “Why don’t we skip the exposition, since there’s no issues there. Let’s jump to the weapon engagement.”

You stepped forward, engaging with Ruby’s noodle. She nodded in approval before continuing the choreography.

“Left, right, no… right. Wait… do you not know your left from your right?”

Embarrassed, you dropped your gaze to the mat. “I do… I just… have to stop and think about it sometimes…”

Ruby chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I am totally going to give you shit about that later, but for now, let’s just work on muscle memory.”

She moved behind you, reaching around to take hold of your wrists before leaning into whisper. “Is this ok?”

A shudder traveled down your spine as her breath tickled your ear, a subtle expression you prayed she didn’t notice. “Y-yeah… you’re good.”

The way her fingertips brushed so gently against your skin felt like a million tiny shocks of electricity, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she guided your dominant hand through the movements. “Over, under, around and right.”

She repeated the sequence once more before letting go of you, stepping back to observe. “Show it to me.”

You demonstrated flawlessly, earning a beam of approval.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

From there, Ruby continued to guide you through the combat sequence in its entirety, stopping repeatedly to work out the kinks and offer helpful tips. She taught you where to hold your body weight so you didn’t stumble, and even showed you how to look like you fell on purpose, if necessary. As much as you hated the girl, you had to admit, she was a pretty good teacher.

Eventually, after hours of training, you reached the last step of the routine. Both of you were drenched in sweat and panting hard, but determined to make it to the end.

“Now…” Ruby rested her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “Last but not least: the fall. So to start, I push down on your shoulders…”

She placed her hands near your collarbone and gently pushed, causing your arms to flail and smack her with the pool noodle. Immediately letting go of you, she took a step back with her hands up. You froze, expecting her to yell at you, but to your surprise she threw her head back in laughter.

“And that…” she pointed to the band-aid on her cheek “…is how this happened.”

You forced a nervous giggle in response as you stared at her hysterical disposition. Her laugh was crisp, almost melodic, like windchimes in a summer breeze. You weren’t quite sure what she found so funny; perhaps she was so tired from the long rehearsal, she collapsed into a state of hysteria.

Ruby calmed down after a minute or two, wiping away a tear as her breathing subsided. “So, I’m guessing you don’t like having your shoulders touched?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I guess it just feels constricting to have someone pushing me while I’m trying to fall safely.”

She clicked her tongue, seemingly deep in thought. “Hmm… why don’t we modify it a little bit? I could push you by your hips, let you fall, and then pin you down.”

“Can we do that?” You asked, concerned about getting into trouble again.

“Yeah, it’s not a huge change. I’m sure Lucas won’t mind. Besides, actor safety is always number one priority… and that includes my own.” She gestured to her cheek again with a lopsided smirk, prompting you to grimace apologetically.

You centered your body weight as she approached you, grasping your sides before letting her fingers wrap around your hip bones. She met your eyes, searching for approval.

“Better?” She asked.

Your voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper. “Yeah. Much better.”

“The most important thing,” she explained, “is to keep your body open.”

She moved her hands from your hips up to your arms, positioning them until they were spread out on each side, as if you were preparing for a big hug.

“When I disarm you, move your arms to the side like this. That way, you’ll have more control over a fall, and I’ll have less chance of getting cut.”

You nodded in understanding as she took a step back, preparing for the attack.

“Slow motion, ok? No rush.”

She carefully walked towards you and grabbed your hips, pushing with gentle pressure. Keeping your body open, you fell safely to the mat, back flat on the floor and arms spread out to your sides.

Ruby stood over you wearing a look of pride and satisfaction before offering out her hand to help you up from the mat.

“Wow,” she exclaimed with a breathless chuckle. “I’m a really great teacher.”

You rolled your eyes at her familiar cocky attitude. “Mhm… so, is that it?”

“Not yet. One more time, from the top. Let’s put it all together.”

“Full speed?” You asked, getting into position.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, breathing heavily as she moved to stand across from you. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

On her count, you lunged at her with your noodle before she sidestepped and dodged the attack. She reciprocated with an advance of her own, prompting you to block it and successfully engage your props.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she called out. “Over, under, around and right.”

The two of you continued sparring, each movement now pristine and polished. Droplets of sweat scattered from your skin as your props flew at lightning speed, every advance met with a clean block or countered with the appropriate attack. It was like your bodies were in perfect sync, months of built up tension finally surfacing to glide seamlessly through combat.

As you reached the end of the routine, Ruby expelled your weapon, disarming you and prompting your arms to extend. She seized your hips, fingertips pressing into your plush sides, and pushed until you could fall safely. Back now flat against the mat, she crawled on top of you, straddling your hips while planting her hands on either side of your head.

Time seemingly froze as Ruby hovered above you, keeping you trapped underneath her. Her face was close, so close that you were panting into each other's mouths. You stared up at her, noticing her bright blue eyes had turned significantly darker, and you swore, just for a split second, you saw them glance down at your lips.

“You…” she panted, breathless. “Y-you…”

Your heart pounded in your chest, flustered from the mix of adrenalines. “W-what about me?”

“You… you smell… so bad.”

With that, she immediately picked herself off of you, leaving you lying in a heap on the mat.

Annoyed and confused, you sat up to glare at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she turned away from you and cracked her back. “We’ve been in here for awhile, and you really need a shower.”

“Look who’s talking,” you spat back. “Your hair is literally sticking to your forehead!”

She reached up, awkwardly brushing her hair out of her face while mumbling something incoherent. It was like the air around you had suddenly turned thick with tension, neither of you daring to speak up for fear of saying what you were both thinking.

You decided to break the silence. “What time is it?”

Ruby glanced at her watch. “Almost 1am.”

“Shit,” you responded, not realizing it had gotten so late. “Guess we should…”

“Yeah,” she cut you off.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your things to leave for the evening. On the way out, neither of you offered a “bye” or “see you tomorrow,” but both of you turned to glance back when the other wasn’t looking.

For the remainder of the week, you and Ruby avoided each other like the plague, but not necessarily in the way you had previously. Before, there was always a palpable negative energy looming between the two of you, something Calvin could exploit for the cameras. Now, your scenes read awkwardly, both of you too preoccupied the events of the other night to properly engage in animosity.

This shift in dynamic didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew, especially Calvin, who never hesitated to hide his frustration. He desperately sought chemistry, and realized that forcing you to share a trailer wasn’t cutting it anymore. At this point, he was willing to do whatever it took to reignite that spark.

One day, Calvin informed you that lunch would be served in the stunt room. It seemed odd, food being served in the industry equivalent to a trampoline park, but Calvin typically had some rationale behind his unconventional ideas, so you didn’t question it.

When lunch break rolled around, you walked into the stunt room to find it completely dark and empty, aside from Ruby, who stood in the center of the room looking confused. Upon seeing you, she froze.

“Uh… hey.” She muttered, pointing her gaze to the floor.

“Hey yourself,” you replied awkwardly. “Uhm, did Calvin tell you lunch was being served here?”

“Yeah, actually,” she furrowed her brow, glancing around the room. “But I haven’t seen any caterers or anything.”

“Weird, I wonder why he would-“

Suddenly, you were cut off by a door slam, followed by the sharp click of a lock. You and Ruby stared at each other, panic-stricken on your faces before rushing to try the door handle.

“What the… hey! Let us out!” Ruby shouted, pounding on the door after the handle wouldn’t budge.

As you watched Ruby struggle against the door, realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “Calvin!”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby growled.

“Think about it,” you explained. “He’s been frustrated with us all week, our scenes have sucked, he lied to both of us…”

Giving up on the door, Ruby leaned against it and turned to glare at you. “You think he locked us in here on purpose?”

You shot her a knowing look. She groaned frustratedly, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back against the door.

“That is exactly something he would do,” she exclaimed.

“Someone’s going to sue that man one day,” you huffed.

Ruby snickered in agreement. “Why don’t we?”

“Pretty sure that would require us to actually talk to each other.”

Silence fell between the two of you, as what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke turned into you accidentally addressing the elephant in the room.

“It’s not like we ever talked much before…” Ruby muttered, breaking the silence.

“That’s not true,” you argued. “We used to bicker constantly. Now we’re just… weird.”

“This whole week has been weird.” Ruby agreed.

“Why?” You pushed, squinting at her. “You helped me out with a fight scene, and now we’re like two twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. How does that make sense?”

“I don’t know! I just…” Ruby sighed exasperatedly, and put her head in her hands.

Your gaze softened as you realized the brunette was struggling with her words. Usually, she radiated confidence, an attribute of hers that made you burn with jealousy. Now, she exuberated hesitance like you’d never seen, with her body backed up against the door and her face covered with her hands.

You took a step towards her, and spoke softly. “Ruby, you and I both know we’re not getting out of here until we start talking.”

Realizing you had a point, Ruby groaned and dropped her hands. She refused to look you in the eye, instead opting to stare at your feet while she searched for the right words.

“When we were… fighting,” she began, chewing on each word as if it were molasses. “There was a moment where… I had you pinned…”

She swallowed involuntarily at the blatant description. Your face flushed, but you nodded in an attempt to coax more out of her.

“I was looking down at you… and… I guess… I just realized… maybe I don’t… hate you… as much as I thought I did.”

The moisture drained from your mouth as her confession caught you completely off guard. Half of you had the urge to make fun of her, and the other half just wanted to grab her shoulders and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

Instead, you decided to probe on. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think I ever did,” she confessed in a half-whisper. “I never really got to know you before, I think I just… saw you as competition. I mean, you were at every audition, how could I not? I think my mind just filled in the blanks? I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know?” You asked, moving closer and causing her breath to hitch as she was caught between you and the door.

“I think… no, I know… you don’t… hate me either?”

She apprehensively searched your features for an answer, as what was supposed to be a statement came out as more of a question. You nodded, prompting her to exhale in relief before continuing.

“I know that I don’t have to see you as competition. I know that it may have taken me a while to realize it, but the time we’ve spent together on set has been the best month of my life. I know that I hate feeling vulnerable, so if you ever tell anyone about this I’ll deny it… and then I probably actually will hate you.”

You chuckled at her joke, and she began to relax as a warm smile spread across her face. By now, you had moved close enough that your faces were mere inches from each other, and you could just barely hear her breathing over the pounding of your heartbeat.

“So… what now?” You asked, secretly hoping for one specific answer.

She glanced down at your lips, eyeing them hungrily as she hesitated. “I, uh… I think I know… what I want that favor to be.”

Your eyes widened, surprised at her sudden bold demeanor. But as you gazed at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and eyes filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension, you knew there was nothing in the world that could stop you from fulfilling that favor.

Grabbing her jaw, you brought her face closer and crashed your lips together. A small gasp escaped her lips at first, but she soon grasped at your sides and started to kiss back. Her lips were soft, but her kisses were rough and passionate, something you weren’t surprised at given her usual fiery personality.

Her middle finger wrapped around one of the belt loops on your jeans, giving her leverage to pull you closer to her. A quiet whimper erupted from the back of your throat, the feeling of her body pressed against yours being enough to make your knees buckle. You grabbed onto the back of her neck for support, simultaneously pulling her towards you even more and spurring moans of approval from your newfound lover.

Eventually, you pulled apart, both of you gasping to catch your breath, but neither of you letting go of the other. As you stood there, wrapped in Ruby’s embrace, you couldn’t help but survey her features. Her eyes had darkened from overwhelming desire, and her lips were pink and puffy, coated with your saliva. Her originally shiny brunette locks were now disheveled, stray hairs sticking out from the static electricity of being thrust against the door.

She was a mess, but in that moment, you swore you had never seen anything more beautiful.

A breathy chuckle left her parted lips, breaking the silence. “I, uh… I was actually just gonna ask if you knew how to pick a lock.”

Your jaw dropped in shock as you stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

She shook her head no, erupting into laughter at her own joke. You glared at her, unamused, but soon found yourself stifling a giggle. Enemies or otherwise, Ruby was always going to be a sarcastic hothead, and nothing could change that.

“Wow…” she sighed breathlessly.

“I know…” you agreed. “Guess we should thank Calvin, huh?”

Ruby began to chuckle before her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Shit, Calvin!”

“Yeah?” You questioned, confused at her change in demeanor. “What about Calvin?”

“He casted us together because we hated each other,” she whisper-screamed, eyes darting between you and the locked door. “Everything he’s done has been to fuel the fire: forcing us to share a trailer, locking us in here! He wants us to hate each other, he doesn’t care what it takes! If he finds out about this…”

Panic washed over you as your mind swarmed with possible things Calvin would do to taint your relationship if he found out about your feelings for each other.

“Shit,” you exclaimed. “What do we do?”

Ruby pursed her lips, deep in thought as she racked her brain for ideas. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she turned to you with a wicked grin.

“We’re actors,” she replied. “We act.”

Gripping your shoulders, she walked you backwards before letting go and returning to her original position. Confusion painted your features; you didn’t know what Ruby was up to, but you were curious to find out.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met,” she exclaimed loudly. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d ever want to be stuck filming with!”

Her sudden shift in attitude left you puzzled and a little hurt, but you quickly understood her intentions after she shot you a sly wink.

“Oh yeah?” You retorted, playing along. “Right back atcha! In fact, if I never saw you again, it’d be too soon!”

Ruby stifled a laugh before quickly getting back into character. “I hate you!”

“I hate you more!”

“Fine!”

At this last remark, the sharp click of the lock sounded again, and the door swung open. Calvin stood in the doorway, a huge ear-to-ear grin spread across his face.

“Welcome back, you two.”

He left the door open, and motioned for you to follow him out. You started to exit the room, but as soon as Calvin’s back was turned, Ruby grabbed your wrist and spun you around to capture your lips in hers once again.

A sharp inhale echoed against the back of your throat as she took you by surprise, but you pulled her close and kissed her back in a heartbeat. This kiss was different from the last, with the newfound excitement mixing with the terrifying prospect of being caught. The rush of adrenalines had never tasted so sweet.

Ruby pulled back with haste, immediately looking over her shoulder to make sure Calvin didn’t see. When the coast was clear, she turned back to you with half-lidded eyes.

“I hate you,” she muttered, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

You giggled, covering your mouth to suppress the sound before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I hate you, too.”

105 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 1 year

Text

YOU CAN(T) ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x ex-actress!reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), fingering, pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (not degrading), references to previous sexual encounters, mentions of rough sex) tags: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of drugs (weed), drug usage (weed), dieter & reader are a little toxic - i cannot lie, talk of parents word count: 4.8k+ summary: your relationship with dieter (albeit the very loose definition of the term) has finally landed you in the tabloids. he attempts to make it up to you a/n: unbeta’d. i don’t know what possess me when i write dieter but its very real and active right now lol. if you want to get updates on whenever i write, follow @belovedinfidels

The weight of knowledge wears you thin.

Dieter is a tabloid on page six, the embodiment of Hollywood idiocy sided up against a woman far too young for him. Half his age? the byline reads and the bitter laugh you let out earns you a concerned glance from the old lady in front of you. In his madness, he takes you with him, right there in the middle of the grocery store. You pay eight dollars to read the shit all week, like the spurred lover you can’t claim to be.

Your devotion is too incredible, but that’s the way you are. A strange concoction of bitter and sweet. You’ve never forgotten a wrong-doing and you choke what you love with sheer force of your eagerness. Dieter doesn’t know what he wants and yet he commits himself anyway. Which is why, usually, he is good for you. His touches are seldom chaste and his presence is hardly long-term. If you think you love him, he will disappear and you will remember that you don’t–or rather, that you can’t. It’s a convenience until he makes you remember you aren’t the only thing he occupies himself with in his spare time. Then it is a dull ache in your soul and a reminder of everything you don’t have.

In anger, you fuck a stranger on Tuesday. It’s a reckless moment that is the exception, not the rule, but it feels good. Your body isn’t past expiration, you learn, not an ugly thing. It is older than the girl Dieter was with in that paper, sure, but this stranger is so attentive to it. It responds in all the right ways. You are healthy, you are wanted. There is hope for you yet.

On Thursday, half guilty for no good reason, you tell Dieter congratulations on his new television show. You watched it. You liked it. You can’t help but confess it. He calls you after and you don’t answer, still full of some random man’s want. He doesn’t text you back but he hearts the message to show you he’s really seen it.

By Friday night, he’s got you bent over his kitchen table, his body strong, masculine and warm above your own. Whoever that girl was, she isn’t anymore. He doesn’t tell you this, but you know it to be true, for he is Dieter, and Dieter is consistent in his inconsistency.

He fucks into you with ferocity and you know he is trying to amend for some of his sins. The slick, obscene sound of his cock filling you, the way he presses into your shoulder, pinning you forward into the cold, hard table, the soft, guttural moans that he empties into the air—it is a form of devotion, albeit a slightly demented version of it.

It might be a little twisted, what the two of you share. It’s not love and it’s not necessarily friendship, but it is something akin to the ritual of opening one’s palm and sharing blood with another in a fit of childlike devotion. Forever, it yells with violence, but at the end of the day it merely remains a mess only on the surface. You wonder when you will grow out of it and start doing reasonable things.

When he easies out of you, he rewards you for your loyalty and asks if you’d like to watch an old movie – maybe even get high with him. The movie is an old western and the gunslinger dies in the end. The weed makes you tired.

When you wake the next morning, LA sunlight peeking through the blinds, you’re in his bed. His body is turned in the other direction and a lone pillow separates the space between you. You smile at the way this thoughtless man thinks. All your anger dissipates and he is right for you, all over again. —

On Sunday, you’re the tabloid story.

Finally, you’ve been caught in the act. A sneaky camera in the bushes, that lone photographer with a hungry belly and nothing better to do than explode your life. Half of twitter regals you with hate messages and the other half spouts encouragement. People discover you, search the depths of your online existence and find out more than you would like about everything you used to be.

By Monday morning he’s calling you.

“I’m sorry,” comes his hushed, apologetic tone, “I tried to do something about it but you know how those things are.”

You can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever been caught. Dieter has been your… your whatever since you stretched your acting muscles briefly in 2012. It was that shitty little pilot that didn’t even make it to cable, but you got him, that up and coming actor with an extensive background in theater. You’ve become several different people since then, changing occupations like clothes, and now you sit halfway between writer and unemployed. It’s okay, though. You have money. Once upon a time you were famous too; a child actor who worked too much and didn’t understand what was real and what wasn’t for far too long. Your mother was kind enough not to exhaust your funds. You think instinctively she knew someday you would be this way.

You shrug, coming to. “It’s okay,” you mutter, trying not to think of all the mean things you’ve read. “Hell,” you joke, “Maybe they’ll finally do that revival now. I’m famous again, so why not?”

He laughs too, so easy. “I’m glad you’re taking this okay. I thought you’d never talk to me again.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know but still. It’s shitty and you don’t deserve shitty. One day you’ll wise up to it.”

Betrayal curls up inside of you, makes a newfound home. All the unspoken things between you, and he must bring up this today: the way you do this to yourself. “Not all of us can readily admit to the things we know, can we?” you say evenly. “Listen, Bravo, I’ve got to go respond to some of your fans on twitter now, if you don’t mind. They’re asking for your dick pics.”

You hear his laugh. “Oh, knock yourself out. What’s mine is yours or whatever.”

“I don’t feel similarly, just in case you get the same kind of messages this week.” He doesn’t respond, and you furrow your eyebrows, letting your smile drop. “Dieter?”

“I know what they’re saying—“ he pauses, weighing out his words. “I know they’re not all being kind to you. I’ve seen it, and I’m sorry. Really. If I could do something about it, I would. I’ve been trying,” he repeats, sounding far too exasperated for your liking.

You pick the phone off the counter and turn it off the speaker. No one lives here but you, but some things don’t feel like they should be put out in the open air. “It’s just a photo,” you tell him evenly. “I’ve been in this business longer than you. I know how to handle this.”

“I just don’t want you to think you shouldn’t see me anymore. We can be more careful.”

“Where are you?”

“Wherever you’d like me to be.”

You snort. “God, nowhere near me with a line like that.”

“Oh sorry. I forgot you’re not into that sentimentality bullshit.”

You smile, liking the way his voice has turned from sober to playful in a matter of seconds. “Here I’ve been, thinking you’ve got my number. If you don’t know by now what gets me going—”

“—a good fuck, a single cigarette on a bad day or a drunken night, and most photos of Fiona Apple.”

“Well done, Bravo.”

“Can I come over?”

“Sure, but you better make a couple of wrong left turns on the way here for safe measures. Hate for you to get caught with the same woman twice in one week.”

“Oh ha, ha,” he says deadpan. “Unlock your door. I’m outside already.”

—

The public expects you to break. They always have. As you hand Dieter the badly rolled joint, you think about how pleased they’d be to know this is how you spend your time. The little girl wonder grew up just as fucked as they expected, from pigtails to ill suited relationships and drugs during the week. That’s how they’d see it, anyway. You think it’s a little more nuanced than that, but the public hasn’t ever been particularly good at leaving room for it in their judgments.

Dieter sits on the ground between your thighs, his back to your stomach. Your fingers weave their way through his thick, slightly curly hair, catching every now and then on a stray knot. “Fuck,” he mutters when you land on a clump near his ear. You grin, coltish. “Let me cut it,” you tell him.

“I have a girl,” he says as an answer.

You wrap yourself around him, your face on his back. “Always do,” you tease, humming softly.

He covers your arms, allowing you to envelope him. “I’m getting the vibe that you’ve grown a tad bit possessive of me.” You scoff, loosening your grip. He clinches down, trapping you. “I’m like that with you, too,” he adds.

You hear the confession racket through his body, your ear pressing to some part of his rib, and yet you are the one who feels transparent. “That’s fucked up,” you answer simply, unable to find the right words in this state. He’s always too coherent for you when you smoke weed together. It’s better when you just fuck; it’s a language you communicate best in, even when perfectly sober.

“It is fucked up,” he says, setting the joint down on the ashtray. He blows out a cloud of smoke and runs his thumb affectionately over one of your forearms. “And I think in a fucked up way, you enjoy it. I do. I don’t know why — probably something therapy could sort out.” He laughs, though it sounds a bit hollow. “I mean, it makes me miserable. I know when you’re with someone else. I can just feel it. It’s in the way you text me—or the way you don’t text me, actually. You grow so distant and I think ‘This is it. She’s a smart girl, and you’ve done it this time.’ And then, like with Friday, you come back and you let me have my way with you and it’s awful and it’s nasty and yet…” He clicks his tongue, hesitating. “It’s great. I want you so bad I’m…I don’t know. Overcome with it. All the misery leaves my body and it’s just me and you, and it doesn’t feel nasty or degrading, does it? I don’t mean for it to. I just…It feels like I’m on the edge of the rest of my life when I’m with you like that. I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done. And it’s always done, isn’t it? I leave you feeling whole again, like I’ve just righted this terrible wrong.”

“Dieter,” you manage, voice heavy. “You’re a secret romantic.”

“That’s the most fucked up part about it,” he says poignantly. “I think a lot of screwed up people do a lot of the screwed up shit they do in pursuit of love, and yet they can never quite allow themselves to have it. I’d love to stay put but it makes me itch. I don’t know why.”

“Were you parents fucked up?” You lean back. He lets you this time, but he moves back with you, laying his head on your chest.

“Sure,” he responds. “They fought all the time, but most people did back then. I knew they loved each other, though. They liked to dance and they always used to have these lively conversations about everything. They were serious people, to the point that it was almost unserious.

“My mother, she was educated and my father loved to read and watch movies and talk, and I think she fell in love with him because of it, despite the fact he came from a more…less wealthy background than she did. They begged her, her family, to get a prenup but she never even married him, you know? They didn’t care. They just lived together and they were perfectly content with it.”

You stare up at the ceiling, listening. “Why do you say it like it’s over? What happened?”

“I am?” he asks. “I guess I’m talking in past tense, ‘cause that’s where I existed with them, in the past. I don’t speak to them much anymore, not because I don’t want to, but just because life got busy. They’re still together. Probably fighting or having a conversation about something trivial and unimportant right now.” He smiles, filled with fondness and nostalgia. “What were your parents like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to remember, and I’ve tried to piece it together from what I have, but I can’t. I don’t think I ever could.” You close your eyes. “They love me immensely and they love each other immensely, but things happen. Good and bad things. I’m just their kid.” You shrug. “I feel like a terrible person a lot of the time because of it. Like, what did my mother want from life? Surely it wasn’t me. This. She must’ve wanted something and I’ll never know it.”

“Did she want to be an actress?” he asks curiously.

“No,” you say softly. “She wasn’t the projecting type. I wanted to be an actress. I loved it. She just put me in the theater to keep me busy during the summer and I took off. She encouraged me. She was and is the encouraging type.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s…well he’s there when he’s there and isn’t when he isn’t. I love him and I wonder about him and I feel like I know him more than myself. But I also feel like he’s a perfect stranger.”

“Hm,” Dieter surmises.

“I don’t have daddy issues,” you add. This makes him laugh and you feel it vibrate through you too. It’s so comforting, warm.

“I wouldn’t tell you that,” he says.

“I didn’t even want you to think about it. It's a cheap analysis that men have been pining on women for years. I’d sooner admit to fucking up myself. I mean, I’m sure he didn’t help me any but he didn’t do all the work. I’ve had directors more involved.” You crunch up your nose, remembering. “One of them hated me because of my mom. He had a crush on her and she wouldn’t go with him. I think he’s the reason I have a problem with authority.”

He breathes out through his nose and slaps his hand softly against your thigh, laughing. “For what it’s worth, I do not think you’re terribly fucked up. Just a normal amount, no worse than the best of the most successful. Hell,” he continues, “Maybe even a little better than them.”

You sink back into the sofa, feeling the room move beneath your eyelids. “Dieter, I’m so high,” you whine.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I can’t talk anymore,” you say. “My brain wants me to say things I shouldn’t.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You groan. “Sentences I’ve already said, just worded differently.” The sincerity of your words makes him laugh — so heartily you squeeze his forearm in appreciation. It touches you everywhere, with your chest against his back like this.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, “Just close your eyes and I’ll keep talking.”

“Mm,” you acknowledge him.

But he doesn’t keep talking. The two of you fall asleep right there in your quiet contentment. You enjoy the peace that comes from soul purging confessions.

—

Tuesday afternoon and he’s still with you. It’s a record, almost. If there hadn’t been that five night stint you had pulled together during one particularly lonely holiday weekend two years ago, this would be the longest you’ve ever seen him. It’s certainly the longest you’ve been together and not had sex.

The pungent, sour-sweet smell of marijuana invades your home, clings to your clothes, and makes you feel like the love-sick, abandoned teenager you were at 17. It’s been a long, long time since then, but there’s a quality about Dieter that puts you back there. Tempting as it is to blame on his perpetual immaturity, you know it’s more to do with your own lack of control. The world spins and you spin with it—a fact that you’ve still yet to gulp down bravely and accept—and Dieter merely reminds you of it.

He thumbs through your record collection while you sip gingerly at a Coke on the couch. Under his breath, he whispers the title of albums that have made up your life, ignorant to just how intimate the act really is. Dieter sees a plethora of intricately organized vinyls and you see half your life; it is a collection made up of poor decisions, lovers’ gifts, and tokens of another life. He plucks out a Rolling Stones album and puts it on the spin table.

Domesticity threatens to choke you for a second before Dieter looks in your direction, sloppy grin on his face. “Let It Bleed,” he says, heading in your direction. “It has You Can’t Always Get What You Want at the end. I think it’s better this way, too, because you have to work for it.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes the Coke out of your hands and steals a sip, voice plugged with passion as he says, “Nowadays you can just listen to a song whenever you want but used to, you had to sit through the whole album. We’re losing the art of the music album because people don’t do that anymore.”

You take your Coke back and shake your head. “That’s not true. After David Bowie died, vinyls became popular again. Albums are very much still in.”

“So maybe they are.” He shrugs. “Regardless, I think they’re better this way. Don’t you?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I just want to listen to one song.”

He lays his head on the back of the couch, pouting out his bottom lip in consideration. “You’re angry with me,” he surmises after a moment.

You frown. “No.”

“You’re something with me, and it’s certainly not pleased.”

“I was just saying my opinion.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No.”

“I can’t quite reach you in there—“ he points to your head “—so if you want me to do something, or say something, you’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you tell him evenly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t,” you repeat, trying to soften out your features. “I’m feeling…I don’t know. Awkward. You don’t stick around this long and I guess it’s making me feel odd. Especially because you haven’t touched me.”

“Ah,” he says, straightening himself. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“Have I ever denied you?”

“No, but I figured you might like to know I don’t mind seeing you with your clothes on too.” He offers you a kind smile and his fingers reach out and intertwine loosely with a few of yours. This is completely uncharted territory that makes your heart beat ferociously against your chest.

You tug him closer and he comes, his body leaning into yours as your lips meet. The shirt he wears is slightly too big on him, and the fabric brushes against your stomach as you open your legs to make room for him. His fingers press into your hips, positioning you beneath him, and you open your lips slightly, permitting him access.

For lack of a better word, you think: Homecoming. But it isn’t. This isn’t home. This is Dieter Bravo, page six, Mr. Half His Age. You smile against his lips and he pulls back. “What?” he says, smiling too. You feel his breath on your face, warm, and you lean up to press your lips to his again. “Nothing,” you tell him, knowing the joke won’t be funny.

He doesn’t seem to mind, allowing himself to be swayed away by the suggestive rock of your hips. He leverages himself with a hand on the back of the couch, and you pull him down, further and further, latching your legs around his waist. He is warm, burning, and as you deepen the kiss, you can feel the way he grows hard above you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, nodding his head up, disconnecting the two of you. Your lips feel rubbed raw, bruised, but you want more. He grunts softly when you press yourself into his cock and you look at each other for one dizzying second. Then he is kissing the underside of your jaw, his large hand palming your covered breast.

You try desperately to figure out how to shed the layers of clothing that separate you but he is quicker on his feet, pushing the college shirt you wear up above your stomach. He puts it behind your head, pinning your arms up. You watch as he licks down your chest, warm tongue flattening between the valley of your breasts. Then his breath ghosts over the nipples he exposes, his long, thick fingers pulling down the fabric of your bra quickly, desperate, hungry. He takes one in his mouth and you squeal.

Dieter isn’t usually patient. He fucks for leisure but never really revels in it for too long, so it surprises you when he licks down the rest of your body, swirling his tongue above the place where the band of your sleep shorts begins. You raise your hips for him and he sheds another layer, but again, just barely. Leaving you in your underwear, he worships you on the way back up, kissing your ankle, your calf, the inside of your thigh, even the place where your thigh meets your cunt. His fingers dig, eager to find skin full enough to grip; breasts and thighs, your hips, your ass when you respond to the hot breath that cascades over your cotton covered cunt.

He presses his hot mouth to you, underwear still in the way, and that’s it, you're ablaze and you are starved, crammed full of lust with an appetite that knows no bounds. You want to bare yourself to him—to spread yourself wide right there, and let him into the wetness of your cunt while you whisper dirty things into his ear. His words from yesterday echo in your mind — I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done — and you think God, that’s it. The pulse point, the center, the raw and unbridled truth. You tear one another apart and it is tender, trusting. You’ve been getting him wrong. Over a decade and yet you’ve miscalculated it all.

He slips aside the fabric of your underwear, licks you, finds you wet and wanting. You are dripping. You feel it, know that his eager tongue is only adding to what his mere presence has caused.

That other man, he was lovely, young, flexible, all calloused hands and the taste of reckless mystery you thought you needed, but Dieter is ritual to you, like waves slapping against the rocks or the slow, inevitable spin of the planet around the sun. It happens and yet the sheer ferocity of the change it brings leaves you shocked. He is the taste of half smoked tobacco, the sweetness of a stolen sip of Coke, the warmth of an almost-orgasm rushing to your head.

His lips are coated with your slick, glossy beneath the warm living room light, but he doesn’t seem to care. He bites down on his bottom lip, pressing the pad of his finger to your entrance. Watching with heavy lidded eyes, he finds it in himself to smirk.

“Dieter,” you pant out, not taking your eyes away.

“You want it?” he growls, voice low and lust-filled. “Beg.”

You don’t hesitate. “Please. Fuck Dieter. Please.”

He sinks it in and the sound of your cunt welcoming him makes you both groan. It’s so deliciously obscene, the entirety of it. Your brain sputters, confused and overwrought, and you think: oh, I would never deny you anything. Never. Never.

His finger curls inside of you and his thumb presses down on your clit, focused and determined, the evidence found in the way his forehead crinkles. You note, even in this state, the way the front of his sweatpants tent and a dark spot where he’s leaked forms. He’s not wearing underwear and his finger is in you, above you, on you. You are warm, a beautiful burning thing around his thick finger. He enters another, says, “Fuck, you are so wet. Look at you.”

You shudder beneath him, a wordless moan escaping as you grip his tattooed wrist. The orgasm wracks through you, leaving you panting, pulling at his hand. So fitting - so ironic - that this is where he would mark himself with the symbol for femininity. Mother nature. That hollow triangle, pointed in the direction of you, sister to the darkened one pointing at him on the other forearm. That one means sun, masculine. They are earthly and complex, harmonic and just right.

Dieter puts his fingers flat on your tongue and you suck your own juices off of him, acidic - sour-sweet. He watches for a moment before he replaces them with his own tongue. There’s more of you there. As you work his sweats below his hips, dragging the fabric across his sensitive cock, he groans deep and you drink it up, hungry for more.

When he pushes into you, he does so with such ease, your body allowing him to sink into you like you’re his home, the missing half. It’s too romantic of a notion for you to carry in real life but somehow, like this, it fits. You crave the truth of it. As he rolls his hips into yours, deep as he can, you pull his shirt over his head and cover his lazy, soft lips with your own. You breathe each other in more than you kiss, bottom lips connected, top lips flirting, and tongues meeting each other as he seats himself fully inside of you.

Dieter is thick, makes you feel full in a decidedly feminine way as grinds himself against you. You clench around him, fingers thrusting into the skin of his back. He nuzzles into your neck, presses wet kisses to the sensitive skin.

You bury your hands in his sexed-up hair, let your body wrap entirely around his frame as he finds a rhythm inside of you. A soft flow of up and down, in and out, lacking ferocity but conveying a desperate need. He drags his cock through you, pierces you with it, and you take it gratefully, eyes shut and senses flooded. When nibble on his ear, you taste the metallic of his lone earring and his breath grows more ragged. “You feel so fucking good,” you whimper, voice high, “I feel you—I feel you everywhere. God your cock—you make me so fucking wet.”

You kiss him fully on the mouth again. Everything feels taut, moments away from being over, and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist. You are one, a complete thing. Then he is pulling you apart before you know it, the twitch of his cock happening precariously inside of you. But he knows himself, well enough to pull out just in time, spilling his warm seed across the canvas of your exposed belly. A wordless sob escapes him and you reach out to hold the forearm he’s moved to the back of the couch again.

This is when it ends, the place where the two of you separate, go your own ways. He will hand you a tissue, wrestle out a pathetic ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ and the illusion will be broken–

“Do you mind if I spend another night with you?” he says, chest rising and falling. He sits back on his knees, looking at the milky white substance on you with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. He fingers it and you take it, bringing it to your lips. Dieter offers a lopsided grin, that dimple of his showing again.

“What’s mine is yours or whatever,” you echo his previous words, smiling too.

“That means a lot,” he says.

“More than you know,” you agree, “So don’t fuck it up.”

He presses his lips to your knee, the silence deafening, but you trust him despite it. This is different. He is different. He has to be. Please, you plead silently, running your hands through his hair again, Don’t ruin this for me.

He catches your eyes, smiles softly. “I won’t.”

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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rottweiler1 · 2 months

Text

❝𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝.❞

pairing: 141 x male!reader and maybe some los vaqueros + others

summary: the 141 needed a helping hand to protect the world, only 4 wasn't enough. they decided for a interesting 5th member. and seemingly, the 141's other allies were also intrigued.

word count: 811!

cw: violence, normal cod gore, angst, poorly translated scottish from google.

update:

A/N: part 3!!! i had to take a small break, watched kung fu panda tday and got some pretty nice stuff from the mall, fuck yeah. off topic from there but enjoy reading this!-rottweiler

3/?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

dino headed out to the jet with the 141 by his side, shuffling down his seat, the jet took off as the rumble started to shake towards the jet making him lay his head back as the others talked. simon 'ghost' riley was quiet as usual towards the others but sometimes talked out. price was just telling his (sons) to shut the fuck up and piss off.

dino then felt the jet shake with some turbulence as dino groaned, he couldn't get too angry otherwise his spikes would stab the leather from behind his seat like chopping meat. if only he could take them off right now. the jet landed down in a rough landing as everyone got up, dusting, stretching whatever.

the doors opened to reveal a group, soap then waved and yelled as some man looking in his late 30's hugged him and with one of those handshakes that seem oddly painful but dino shrugged. it was normal in the military life. price chuckled gruffly before the man said: ❝ayee, price my man!❞ the man hand shaked the captain with his grin.

dino then had some different opinions, he cant lie alejandro's voice was attractive.. reminded him of one of those mexican cultured movies he'd watch as a kid. dino then crossed his arms as ghost greeted him, so did gaz with a nod. alejandro noticed the giant with a gasp before saying. ❝hey, who the fucks that?❞ dino glanced at alejandro before saying. ❝dino.❞ he said one word and alejandro froze.

the voice made him shocked before grinning. ❝rudy, ya gotta come hear this voice!❞ the man named rudy walked beside alejandro, before rudy was talking with the members of the los vaqueros. ❝..huh?❞ dino said bluntly with a blink as rudy blinked. ❝fucking hell.. his voice is very.. wow.❞ rudy whispered to alejandro before reaching out a hand, soap then wrapped his arm around rudy's shoulder.

❝i'm rudy-❞

❝he's rudy!❞

they both looked at eachother and laughed it off, earning a chuckle from alejandro and gaz.. a small grin from price and ghost. dino must've missed a lot before groaning quietly.. he had no time for games and shit. alejandro interrupted his thoughts. ❝las says they call ya dino!❞ dino stared before nodding, it was pretty obvious from the spikes on the back, no?

alejandro reached out his hand as dino shook it with a stare.. pulling back, dino left. thats all he needed to know. soap then said. ❝sorry mates, dino's a lil version o' simon!❞ simon growled as alejandro laughed. a mini version? fuck no, impossible for simon to even have a son..

meanwhile..

dino was in the room they're temporarily staying in, making dino a bit uneasy since its not his usual bed, still creaky though! whats the difference? dino then huffed before taking out his phone out of his bag, staring at the texts from his sister. dino then replied:

kittarioo..!! ; my dear pretty ugly brother, i need some task force pics pretty please!

dizzo!! ; kiss on a dick.

kittarioo..!! ; just show me pictures of those men, they're really hot ya know!! give me some.

dizzo!! ; woah woah, is my own sister thirstin for some fucking military men fucking dick?

kittarioo..!! ; fuck off being gay but sendd!!

dizzo!! ; dizzo sent 4 attachments.

kittarioo..!! ; thanks, dino fucker!!

dizzo!! ; piss off.

dino then groaned, shoving the phone back in his bag, shuffling on his bed as he laid his head against the cushion, crossed arms behind his head that was making his head laying on. dino wondered if he would ever get to meet his sister.. dino got up before putting on his mask and sunglasses as someone knocked.

❝hey, dino. price is calling everyone to gathering with the los vaqueros, better hurry now.❞ gaz said and smiled, walking off as his footsteps went faint. dino then followed, fixing his green camo gloves. gaz opened the doors before taking seats, dino sat inbetween soap and rudy, simon was across him. dino glared and simon did back.

❝ya fuckers cant even get your rivalry postponed? we have a fucking timer to save the world.❞ price interrupted as simon and dino gazed back at price. ❝alright, now were gonna..❞ price kept going on and on as dino was gonna sleep, closing his eyes. dino was quietly sleeping for atleast 16 minutes before someone hit him.

dino growled and hit them back hard thinking its an enemy. turning out its just soap.. and with his slightly crooked nose. ❝fuck.. sorry.❞ dino said as he rubbed his temples, alejandro and rudy made sure soap was okay.. then the others eyed dino. their strength is strong, no lie. dino then went up to his room, made a lie. ( had imaginations.. about.. punching.. dinos. )

dino closed the door before grabbing pills, shoving down his throat, he had hallucinations, overworked hallucinations.. it wasnt long till the deployment starts.. would dino be fine?

the day of the deployement.

shuffling into the jeep, dino was large so he had to somehow fit.. so the jeeps roof was open, letting him see all the building and citizens from here. soap then said. ❝taking this fucker down is easy, just got my muscles not through rough training is all.❞ soap said, smug. alejandro laughed, ghost glanced at soap with a smile. you couldnt see it.

but rudy knew when he looked at ghost in the top view mirror.. the eyes of his lifted.

then they arrived at the destination, all devices were set.. ammo? set.. they sent dino in first because he was more the bigger and used as a body shield. on dino.

they were in a laboratory was where it took them to, there was just glass shatter.. ❝looks like they raided the place.❞ gaz said before slowly walking inside, price then went to the locked door before saying. ❝ on me. ❞ price kicked down the locked door before rushing inside, ghost went the other way to clear the room. gaz and soap followed in, and the others did too. the room was filled with gaurds, scientists hiding from this 2nd raid.

dino then shot someone, snapped their neck before kicking their body, shooting someone from behind without a care. fucking assholes. ❝ careful, theres snipers. ❞ dino said before someone tried to choke him with something, he then stabbed the guy with his spikes on his back before kicking some asshole infront.

ghost then shot someone right in the head before multiple came out from the corners. ❝ fuck! theese whiskies. ❞ ghost growled before killing the last person in another room. the soldiers infront seemed to know him with fear and bravery, they decided to risk it. to defeat THE ghost? pathetic.

gas then shot people with a pistol as someone kicked his pistol away, alejandro shot the guy. the pistol was far away. ❝ COVER FOR ME! ❞ gas yelled before alejandro nodded, gas slid on the ground past the killed soldiers quick and took his gun and placed it in his holster. he then eyed a better gun and took it before shooting someone who was behind alejandro.

soap and rudy was eachothers back to back, shooting them down before splitting, soap ran past ghost before stealing a knife from his pocket before stabbing someone in the head then slit someones throat and shot up someone.

rudy then punched someone, kicking them in the crotch as they whined before shooting them in the head. there was more? rudy could take them all with alejandro beside him. ❝¿quieres joder conmigo? vamos.❞ (wanna fuck with me? come on.)

price then spoke in the radio. ❝ more soldiers coming then we expected, get your arse upstairs. we're not taking evac yet, over. ❞

everyone then ran upstairs to see scared scientists in the lab rooms from the glass as the group walked to the exit stairs like badasses.. well thats what johnny would say.

they went upstairs with price, running before heading to the last floor they needed to retrieve the files about the group and.. ❝come on L.T, what if they go' chips? ❞ ghost grumbled before saying. ❝its a lab, not a fuck for 1 free chip gig.❞ ghost followed the group before footsteps were heard.

they all stopped before whipping out guns incase, dino then growled before getting infront of the team as a bodyshield, someone came down from the vents with style before whipping out the gun.

❝ kitty. ❞ dino growled at the woman with a grin on her face.

❝ dino. ❞ dino then tapped his foot with steady combat, guns aimed at her..

gas asked. ❝ they know eachother? ❞ price and ghost grumbled quietly before saying in unison:

❝ they're siblings. ❞

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #dinosaur #gaz kyle garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #male reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod fanfic #los vaqueros #call of duty x reader #x male reader #kitty #female reader #kortac

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dreamauri · 9 months

Text

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part four charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader (angst + smut ) “… forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"What about this one?" You pulled a music sheet from the flower you were looking through. The title caught your attention. You set the hand written notes on the surface in front of Charles.

He chuckled, easily recognizing the title; YS:2019. Charles didn't need to look down and watch his fingers hit the notes. Instead he watched you shuffle closer to watch his fingers move.

You could feel the love and adoration through the melody. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Charles who has been watching you the entire time. He gave a sheepish smile before leaning down trying to catch your lips.

You were able to pull back last minute, leaving an inch between you and Charles. "Just one kiss." He begged pouting, hands pulling away from the keys so he could cup your face.

You made a thinking face, humming in thought. "Nope." You popped the P, sticking your tongue out. Charles huffed, folding his arms. "You know you're naked right now, and I'm looking." He reminded you, tilting his head down to look at your bare skin.

"Pervert," You pushed his face away, prompting him to continue playing his instrument. You stood up ready to leave the room, not without a quick glance to your husband's back of course. "I don't think I've given you head yet."

The keys clashed as Charles looked at you with an angry yet embarrassed face. "Y/N! We had five rounds already." He scolded, rubbing his face in agony as he felt his dick harden. "So?" You retorted, going back to his side and sitting on your knees in front of the bench.

Your eyes trailed down his hunched back. A very pretty back with a lot of scratches and half crescent marks. You crawled under the bench, sitting between Charles legs, who put a hand over his crotch giving you a disappointed/in love smile.

"How about this," You shooed his hand off his dick, leaning your elbows on his thighs. "For each song you impress me with, I'll give a reward." You gave an innocent smile through your lashes. "You are going to be the death of me." Charles seethe through gritted teeth playfully, cupping your cheeses and shaking you gently.

He made you laugh. A nice, comfortable, genuine laugh. You leaned your head on his thigh, looking up at him as he stretched his fingers.

It was the same song from your "first time" waking up with him in the house. Mia and Sebastian's theme from 'La La Land', a movie you really liked. You didn't recognize the melody, but it was calm and charming.

Charles had to suppress a moan feeling your mouth wrap around him, eyes shutting closed at the heavy feeling. "Good girl." He murmured, hands leaving the piano keys to guide you.

But you pulled away which left Charles frustrated. "Why's you stop?" He fussed whining. You could only giggle and smile up at him, leaving small kitty licks up and down his length.

You liked how he gasped or cussed, especially after how Charles moans your name. You found it entertaining how his body twitched and jolted, holding himself back from going rough. "You want more?" You teased pouting, licking his tip slowly.

"Please please please please, pleaaaase. S'il-vous-plaît, mon Amour. S'il-vous-plaît." He whined and impatiently, holding hands together and shaking them back and forth in desperation. You liked having him like this, you could've said no and walked away. You wanted to, but you just couldn't.

Lowering your mouth around his length one more time, you gave Charles what he needed. You had to hold his hips down with the little strength you had because he kept bucking up into your throat. You could feel his hand bush in your hair, trying to trail down the soft silk, only to remember that you cut it off.

Was that why you kept it long? "Mon Amour, I'm close- fuck! You feel so wonderful around me." And with one last lick, Charles tensed. He gripped on your hair to your arm to your shoulder, moans and gasps falling from his lips as his seamen pooled in your mouth.

He slouched down, leaning his head on the piano keys with an awful sound. Panting he watches you pull away with a grossed out expression. "That taste absolutely awful." He chuckled with a tired gaze, watched you spit it out on your palm.

"Hey, come on. Swallow it." Charles tried to push your palm back in your mouth but you pulled away. "Yuk. Ew." You gagged, sticking your tongue out. "Hey! These are our kids tight there! You can't say ew."

You laughed as he held your palm gently, pointing at the pool of white seamen. "See, this is Jimmy, that is Timothy, this is Melody, this is Alicia, that's Koa." You couldn't help but laugh as he continued coming up with names.

He loved hearing your laugh, and he loved being the one to make you laugh even more. "Come—" kiss "Come on we can go— ew." He scrunched his face, tasting the residue of his orgasm. "Yeah, that tastes disgusting, don't eat that."

You couldn't help but laugh as he stood up and pulled you up with him. "Let's get dressed, we can go on a run before starting our day."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"And . . . Start." You jogged beside Charles while he played with the settings on your fitbit. "You don't want to go fast?" That was a surprise, he'd expected you to pick up your speed and leave him in your dust.

"I don't want to get lost." You lied. You were sure anyone here would be happy to help you, plus you had your phone on you. But you decided to stay with Charles . . . Spending time away from him, whether it was good or bad time, wasn't going to solve your amnesia any faster or at all.

Charles felt himself smile as he jogged by your side. This felt nice and relaxing. "What do you want to do today?" It was Monday evening and there wasn't a place you had to be.

"I saw on tiktok you have a yacht." "We have a yacht." He corrected you, gently putting a hand on your back to guide you out of the way of an incoming bike. "Good morning, love birds." "Hi, Y/N." You saw Max pedal by with a little girl strapped to his back.

". . . He has a kid? He was just 17 yesterday." You watched them go, confused out of your mind. Charles laughed, waving back to Penelope. "That's not his daughter, that's his girlfriend's daughter."

"Wow, he got a girl? Damn they grow fast." You chuckled. Following Charles as you crossed the street to run along the beach. "I never asked," You huffed, brushing your hair behind your ears ( maybe cutting it too short for a ponytail was a bad idea ). "How did I get to formula one? I was in formula 3 one day and formula 1 the next."

"Awh that's a long story," Charles sighed deeply, gathering his thoughts. "Well, you changed teams mid year, I don't remember which team. But you were getting a lot of podiums. And you were a part of the Red Bull junior's team."

"You can already see where this is going. You were the closest junior at the time and you ended up driving instead of Sebastián Vettle for a little over half the second half of the season."

You gasped loudly, putting your hands on your mouth. "I replaced Vettle." You whispered, voice low enough for only Charles to hear. Charles chuckled, watching you look around to make sure no one heard ( this was not new information to the public, the races are broadcasted live ).

You pulled him down, whispering in his ear. "Was I good?" "Were you good?" He laughed, shaking his head. "You won your debut race." He watched you jump and squeal in excitement. "Oh my God." You put your hands on your mouth feeling joy flow throughout your body.

"I went to f1 first, You must've been soooooo jealous." You teased him, wiggling your eyes. "I was not actually." He chuckled, hand on the bare part of your back as he guided you back into the heart of Monte Carlo. "I was cheering for you, even if I don't like redbull."

"Awww, that's so soft of you." You teased him, slowing down as your watch buzzed for a break. "I thought you were really talented," he brushed your hair out of your eyes, kissing your cheek. "And beautiful," kiss "And skilled," kiss "And smart," kiss.

You blushed, pushing him away with a small huff. "Okay, okay . . . Simp." "Hey! Who taught you that word?!" He tried to run after you and catch you, but you were faster. You slowed down every now and then to give him hope only to take a hard left and go out of reach.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Oh, what's this?" You mumbled, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at the scar on your ankle. You've never noticed it before. "Hmm-" "Ding dong." You watched Charles walk fresh out of the shower ( butt naked ) with a toothbrush in his mouth, standing in front of the open closet near where you sat on the floor.

"Slut." You nudged the back of his knees making him look at you annoyed and confused. "What?" "Slut." You pointed at his not-covered bottom. Charles rolled his eyes, putting a hand over his crotch. "Happy?" "No, ew. Cover up."

"You sucked it this morning. Willingly." He reminded, making you smack his bare ass, full force.

"OW! Y/N! THAT HURT!"

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Mate, you're going to keep standing?" You could only laugh to yourself while Charles mocked your giggle with an annoyed expression, flipping you off.

You couldn't help but laugh, hugging your beer bottle closer to you. Since it was also your yacht you decided to invite Lando, Max, and Carlos. It was a nice evening, your "first" time drinking as well.

"Wait, why won't you sit?" Lando was intrigued, watching Charles stand there like the emoji. The Monégasque rolled his eyes hearing your laugh. "He was walking around naked. And he has an ass, so." You shrugged, smiling. Lando looked at you disgusted while Max and Daniel laughed their asses off.

"Wait let me see. It can't be that bad." Carlos, with a wicked smile, tried to sneak up behind Charles but only got slapped in his chest. "There is a green handprint on my ass, okay? One of my ass is flat now." You couldn't help but wheeze, rolling off the lounge as you laughed your ass off.

You were barely able to form words. And you weren't the only one, Lando and Carlos with their monkey laugh, and Max gripping his stomach lmao in silence. "I hate all of you, minus you Y/N." "I hate you too Charles." You replied once you were able to catch your breath, shakily getting up on your feet.

"Wait, let me see." Charles looked up at the sky annoyed as you stood behind him, pulling on the waistband to take a peak. "Let me see, I want to see." The group of drivers gathered up, looking at Charles' ass. "Mate, that's vomit green." "I never knew we could turn such a color." "He looks like the green goblin, no?"

"Hey, hey!" Charles shooed them away, huffing angrily. "This is not a museum. Carlos has a way better ass than me."

You were laughing on the floor again once again, watching Max and Lando chase Carlos, who ended up jumping in the water to escape them. "This is the best day of my life." You squeaked in between laughs.

Charles found himself smiling at you softly, while you pushed Max in the water.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Now that they left, it's just you and me." Charles breathed in relief as he watched you dry yourself with a towel, gently swaying your hips to the classic Italian music that played in the background. He gently hugged you from behind, listening to you hum along with the melody.

Charles stroked the soft skin of your exposed belly, gently kissing your jaw. "You're too in love." You joked, shooing him away. "What's wrong with that?" "Well, because the feeling's not mutual . . . I don't dislike you— But I don't love you either." yet you wanted to add. You didn’t love him, yet. But that would be very out of character from you. You gave your heart to no one, and took advantage of everyone.

"That's alright. I'm willing to give all of myself to you." You rolled your eyes playfully, hand trailing back and holding his dick through his swim trunks. You could hear his surprised and pained gasp and you could feel thighs tense and attempt to thrust up into you. "You are evil.” He fussed watching you pull away with a giggle.

"I am?" You pouted, sprawling on a couch, stretching your body out. Charles couldn't help but eye your body hungrily. Your bikini was too good looking on you and he's reached the limit of holding himself back.

Satisfied noises left your mouth as Charles hungrily ate you out, tongue deep in your heat as his nose nudged at your clit here and there. His hands were roaming and touching every inch on your skin, from your tummy to your thighs. Even though he has it all memorized, every birthmark and freckle and stretch mark, he couldn't have enough of you. Never.

He did eventually get to fuck you. His hands with a tight grip on your hips pulled you back into his thrusts while he pressed his forehead into yours. You rocked and moaned with each thrust, cupping his cheeks as you shared sloppy kisses. You wanted to moan his name, to tell him how good he made you feel, how good of a man he was treating you with such respect even with the way you were treating him.

But instead you bit and nibbled on his neck while he repeated your name like a prayer. “Je t’aime, Y/N. Je t’aime, amour. Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime.” You could feel his breaths pick up and member twitch, his thrusts losing pace and strength as he hugged your wait. “Hold still.” You turned him over so you were on top, riding him to his high while he dug his nails into the skin of your back.

And with one last moan, Charles bucked his hips up into yours, throwing his head back at the 7th orgasm today. “Putain . . . No! No no no.” He begged as you leaned your hands on his chest, chasing your own high. His voice got higher as he squirmed underneath you, legs shuffling and toes curling at the overstim. “Enough, Y/N.” He begged only for you to shut him up by kissing him. He cupped the back of your head, kissing you in an attempt to distract himself. Only to feel his body shake violently when he spilled his seamen again, with you this time.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You watched Charles collapse on your bed. Finally returning to your house after eating out in a restaurant and sharing a round or three more in the washroom stalls, he was exhausted. You were a little bit, but the state of your house was keeping you up. You found yourself sweeping the floor and tidying up the place.

"Amour," Charles called from the bedroom. "Viens au lit avec moi." [come to bed with me]. You could hear him cry. You rolled your eyes, fixing the positioning of the vase before going back to your bedroom. The piano caught your eyes. The messy papers and note sheets bothered you, you had to clean that up.

YS:2019. You looked confused at the paper, turning it over to read. 'Ton sourire ce soir-là, je savais que je devais te faire sourire à nouveau comme ça. La façon dont tu me fais ressentir, la façon dont tu rends le monde meilleur. Je rêve de toi toutes les nuits. Et chérie, je ne suis jamais seul quand tu es en vue ❤'

you watched as the faceless man, peppered kisses on your knuckles. a soft chuckle left your lips as you leaned your head on his. "Vous êtes si belle. dès le premier instant où je t'ai vu, j'ai su que je devais te protéger. pour vous faire sourire et rire tous les jours. parce que y/n, mon monde est meilleur avec toi dedans. je n'ai pas de monde si ce n'est pas avec toi, y/n" "what are you saying, -------?" "nothing. just how much i hate you." you laughed at his obvious lie.

You frowned confused at the vision flashing in your eyes, ready to pull out google translate when Charles cried to you again, sobs clearer this time. "Mon amour, ne me quitte pas. J'ai besoin de toi." [my love, don't leave me. i need you] What’s got him worked up so much that he’s crying. You put the papers back in the folders before retreating to the master bedroom.

Charles was on his knees on the mattress, quick to pull you in a hug once you were within reach. His breath slows down feeling you pat his head gently. "What’s got you fussing, hmm?" He didn’t reply, gripping the material of your shirt. He must’ve been still drunk from the bottle of wine you ordered.

"Tu as promis de ne pas me partir." [you promised you wouldn’t leave me] "I don’t speak French, Leclerc." You found yourself playing with his hair gently till he fell asleep in your embrace.

what a strange man.

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lucysarah-c · 3 months

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Do you think Levi would be with someone who was canonically "innocent" or "weak"?

Would he have a relationship with an ordinary civilian?

Considering how much shitty hard shit he's been through, it seems like he wouldn't be with a partner who has a good life, who hasn't been through hard shit and who is pure.

Would he get cold and distant from a partner who is weak, insecure, unable to get up from a fall?

I felt the need to ask this question because I read a Hc about Levi being uncomfortable with weakness and that he can't be with someone who is weak and innocent

Especially in the manga, he said something about hating the weak.

Or if he saw the weaknesses of the average partner, would he accept his flaws or would he grow cold and distant from him?

Ahh I don't know, maybe his behavior towards his partner depends on the dynamics of their relationship. For example if he has been friends with S/o since childhood. Even if S/o was a weak person, maybe he wouldn't distance himself from her. But I don't know if he would like her romantically.

If you are the last person I will ask this question to, I can ask it on another blog. I didn't know which blog to ask.

Hi, sweetie! How are you? Mmh… Excuse me if I am wrong in assuming this after reading your ask, but since you mentioned that this is something that had been on your mind lately after you read a hc and you felt the need to ask me… I do not know who or what made you feel like you're weak, first of all, and even if you felt that way, therefore you're not worthy of Levi's love.

I have a particular… you may call it a "personal" issue with the word "weak". What do you consider weak? What is weakness in a person to even begin? "That person is weak" compared to what? Or to whom? Under which circumstances? Is what people consider "weakness" truly a weakness? Because everything may look dark if you don't consider the source of light.

I'll give my reasons later, but to make a long story short, no, I don't think Levi has any personal issue with weakness.

To start the argument, you, or maybe what they have made you believe, is "weakness" as you mentioned "innocence, ordinary civilian, good life, pure," all related to "weakness." Which leads me to ask you, what do you see as weak in all those characteristics? Because I see none. Let me explain. You see, people consider "ordinary civilians" weak, but if ordinary civilians didn't rise from their beds every single morning and do what they do for society, soldiers like Levi wouldn't have what to eat, what to wear, streets to walk, beds to sleep, or houses to hide from the cruel winter. To set a clear example, after Europe was DEVASTATED by the war, who rebuilt it? Who grabbed the helmets from the dead soldiers that were their men, their sons, their husbands, and made strainers to cook meals for the kids? Who picked up each and every single piece of debris so the cities could be rebuilt? Who worked the lands that once were trenches for kids to have what to eat? I see no weakness there. Weakness is in a human when they need to hold a weapon to feel powerful.

About the words "innocence, good life, pure"… why would Levi consider a person that didn't have his tough life someone not worthy of his love? There's nothing wrong and there's no fault in not suffering; romanticizing a harsh and poor life is something very dangerous. To set a clear example that Levi wishes that those he loves have a peaceful life, is him watching that mother with her child before the expedition to retake Wall Maria. He himself thought of his mother and the peaceful normal life he wished she had, he wished he could have given her.

Levi himself is an extremely sensitive, open-hearted, and altruistic person. He craves a normal life; his dream was to have a tea shop and live an "innocent, peaceful, pure" life. This reminds me of the movie "Sociedad de la Nieve," when Roberto Canessa is told "you have the best legs of the team, you have to walk for the rest of us," to do what others can't. THIS, for me, is the reason Levi joined the scouts. Because he KNOWS he can do something that others can't, and he will carry that weight because he knows he can carry it. Levi isn't in the military because he thinks he's "strong" or the power of being "strong," because he wishes to protect those who can't do the job he can, because he wants to be the person who helps others as he wasn't helped as an innocent, pure, weak little kid.

Levi values life, and he would never look down on someone because their life is perhaps more peaceful than his. On the contrary, I think he fights so everyone can have the peaceful life he couldn't have. Maybe, the "character" that others may consider "too innocent, pure, weak" is the character that has the tranquility and safety in their daily life that allows Levi to find refuge in their peacefulness to recover his energy to keep going. Maybe he enjoys spending time with them, admiring the little moments of life, to understand for what he is fighting.

Maybe this partner is going through a hard moment they can't see through, and perhaps that struggle isn't as big as what Levi's has been through. But only a very selfish person would measure someone's pain with their own; feelings have no proportions, we just feel them. Diminishing them won't do any good. It's easy to judge a cat for not being as strong as a dog, while nobody is calling a dog weak because they can't climb a tree. Life is too beautiful and complex to see it through a single lens. No, I do not believe Levi would do such a thing.

Hope this helps… if you ever feel like you need someone to vent, feel free. Stay safe.

Lots of love!

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partypoisonzz · 11 months

Text

passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.

Content:

- Road head (woohoo)

- Mean!Trey

- Degradation AND praise kinks

- Hair pulling

- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)

Word Count: 2,826

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

Hope you enjoy.

- Pen

You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.

Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.

You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.

The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.

You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat.

A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course.

Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now.

Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light.

"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap.

He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?"

"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?"

He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night."

You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"

"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."

You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"

"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?"

You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"

"Hmm… Honesty first."

"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."

"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?"

You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake."

You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?"

With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."

Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.

A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"

Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up."

Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?"

"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here."

You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?"

"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"

"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"

"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"

"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper.

He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down.

Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me."

His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.

You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy."

Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly.

Yeah. You've really done it now.

Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them.

Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge.

When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."

Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."

He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."

With those words, you do exactly as you were told.

He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture.

You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle.

"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."

The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old.

You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on.

Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue.

"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down.

His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.

"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.

With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?"

You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum.

He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth.

Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched.

Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately.

"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close.

The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?"

You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat.

He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound.

You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate.

"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…"

He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm.

Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?"

You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough.

He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot.

He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon."

You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face.

You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."

Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."

You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."

You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."

You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist.

You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.

You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise."

Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together.

He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."

Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."

You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."

"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…"

You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."

"For you, I could."

You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."

"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."

Another promise to soothe you to sleep.

#my writing #trey parker x reader #trey parker x you #trey parker x female reader

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korlkorl · 4 days

Text

polka dots and moonbeams

this is a genuine word vomit. life with them. very abstract!!! just stuff that reminds me of them :)

+ includes deuce, trey and Leona

deuce

wind blowing on your face. hearing the rain pitter patter on the window. all nighters and messy floor from arts and crafts. dirty run-down jackets and doc martens. first aid kit. pencil keychains. mochi. holding onto this waist as you breeze through the night beach. stickers on his blastcycle. tinkering of tools. light scribbling of pencils. “I… love you.” he tastes of chocolate and blueberries. cuddling in one jacket. ice cream sundaes. hesitant kisses on the lips. rough, calloused hands. gudetama. matching phone charms. lip and nose piercing scars. whipped cream. stack of slam dunk in the corner of his room. early-morning bus rides. smell of fresh cut grass and wet mud. british shorthairs. “i’d make rice cakes with you on the moon.” la la land. slice of life. daycares and summer camps. doves. blueberry pies.

trey

sweet smell of cake. the crisp crunch of a baguette. sourdough bread. soccer. spatulas and strawberry jam. dragon fruit. jazz and r&b. anne shirley and gilbert blythe. kids. lots of them. treehouses. tomato soups and grilled fish. funky car keychains. cherry orchards. white wine. green dress shirts. silly socks. ugly christmas sweaters. broken glasses. watermelon slices. grasshopper crickets. “you’re so intoxicating.” cargo shorts. ruffled hair. the sound of dress shoes tapping on ballroom floors. lipglosses. macaroons and meringues. cooking books. parchment paper with recipes written down in clumsy handwriting. balancing glass cups. black coffee. hat collection. the sound of laughter and music. jump rope and hop-scotch. food blogs and messy drawings. almond cookies. intertwined fingers. “I’m to lucky to know you.” quick pecks on the cheek. muffled giggles

leona

sleeping in. naps. waking up at 3pm. lattes. orange sunset. tequila and whiskey. round ice balls. dostoyevsky. midsummer night’s dream. gardens. “mmm. stay here with me.” sloppy kisses. barks of laughter. canines. tail flicks. mozart and bach. vinyls. violin and french horn. raspy morning voice. caramel. almonds and walnuts. bananas and peanut butter. toast. sunshine spilling from the window sill. sunbathing. yawns and quiet snores. warm hugs. late night movie binges. cheese popcorn. heatwaves. fancy steak dinners. gold jewelry. morning in the beach. quiet sounds of the ocean waves. seashell necklaces. sam edelman shoes. “my idiot.” nose bumps. bedhead. smell of newspaper. calla lilies. sand in shoes. empty playgrounds. huge libraries. thick books with good lining. beauty and the beast. long nails. black nail polish. grunts. hums. beach hats and sundresses. knitting.

im so sleepy 😴

#Spotify #trey clover x reader #trey clover #twst trey #trey clover x yuu #deuce spade #twst deuce #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland deuce #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar

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hoodharlow · 1 year

Text

Just Us

AN: Miriam is in her groupie era 😌😌😌 and Jack and Miriam found out about something that happened four years ago

Requested? No

Warnings: mentions of Sydney Sweeney and allusions to smut

Word Count: 3.9k words

"I can't believe this is the first time you fly me in first class." Miriam told Jack as she settled in her window seat.

"This isn't first class. We're in business class." He said, sitting next to her in the aisle.

"Oh that explains a lot," she mumbled, unimpressed at the seating.

Jack and Miriam were currently boarding a flight from Sydney to Melbourne. Miriam had finally finished filming and joined Jack down unda for his Australia and New Zealand shows. She had a few weeks off before she went to Atlanta to go film a mini series with Aaron Taylor Johnson. She auditioned for the role back in May and didn't get a response until a few days ago. Her mom was also cast and was going to play her mom. Miriam was excited because she always wanted to work with her mom. Even if their characters don't have the greatest bond.

"I like these." Jack commented, bringing her hand up to inspect her nails. "When did you get them done?"

Miriam gave him an unamused look and pulled her hand back. Jack knew when she got them done, he was on facetime with her the entire time.

After she finished filming, she made a stop in New York before heading to meet up with him in Paris because they were flying from there to Dubai to Perth, Australia. In New York she met up with her nail girl, who apparently was also Jack's nail tech before the couple even met, and got her nails done. She decided on getting a nude almond-shaped nails with black, white and grey swirls. It had been months since she got acrylics. She had a month off before filming and wasn't going to be doing anything too demanding.

She also got some blonde highlights for shits and giggles. What she wasn't expecting for them to cause so much controversy. When she landed in Paris she went straight to where Jack was performing. People filmed them hugging, not knowing it was her, and quickly assumed Jack was cheating. The crowd was split fifty-fifty when it was time for him to go on stage, half getting into his performance and the other half not happy to be there. It wasn't until the following morning that everyone saw why people were upset. All the gossip sites ran with the story so Miriam posted a selfie with 'in my Shakira in the La Tortura mv era' because her hair resembled Shakira's hair in that music video to her Instagram Stories. On her actual Instagram, she posted with Urban, photoshopping them over the Olsen Twins in a picture of their movie 'Passport to Paris' poster because he was the only close to her hair color.

"You swear you haven't seen them wrapped around your dick the last few days." She said, opening her Mrs Fields cookie tin.

She was at a small shop in the airport and bought the largest size box. Those were her favorite cookies, besides the ones Claudia makes for her. In her opinion, they could give Crumbl a run for their money.

"Not gonna lie, I'm still getting used to your hair and I was trying not to think that it reminded me of Urb's hair from a few years ago." He said, biting into a M&Ms cookie.

"You're thinking of your best friend while I'm sucking you off?" Miriam made a grossed out face.

An elderly woman gave them a judgmental scoff as she walked past them after hearing Miriam. Jack snorted, making Miriam roll her eyes at him.

The flight was roughly two hours long. They, Jack and Miriam, The Homies (who were touring with Jack) and their respective teams landed around noon. They waited until the other people in flight got off to get off. They went through a separate way to get to baggage claim. Once they went through airport security and everything else, they were in a shuttle bus en route to the hotel they were staying at for the next three days.

Miriam was texting her parents to check in as her and Jack rode the elevator to their suite. Even after moving out, her parents insisted on knowing wherever she went and needed constant updates from her. She would have called but the time zones still confused her so she sent them a text in case it was the middle of the night.

"You sure you don't wanna go see Aitch right?" Jack asked as the doors opened to their floor.

Like Jack, Aitch, his British rapper friend, was also doing festival shows and concerts down in Australia and New Zealand. He had a show in Melbourne tonight and after his show, Aitch was having an after party. He invited Jack and co a few days ago when they were in Sydney for Splendour in the Grass. Urban and the guys agreed, but Jack was still undecided which meant so was Miriam.

"I'm following you around. If you wanna see him, we can go. If you don't wanna see him, then we don't have to." Miriam said, taking the keycard out from inside her phone case.

"Good because I'm taking you out." He nodded, holding the door open for her to go in first.

He had already booked a private tour at an art museum and a private dinner for them at the hotel's rooftop. The hotel had an igloo dining feature since it was winter time in Australia. It was for them to celebrate their one year anniversary. They never agreed on an exact date, but they became an official couple some time in late July of last year. One thing they agreed on was that they've been exclusive to each other the second they met. Jack wanted to do something nice for Miriam because she deserved it and because they haven't had alone time in a long time.

"Where are we going?" She asked him curiously.

"Damn, I can't surprise you?"

"I mean yeah, but I just wanted to know if we were going to be outside." Miriam said, shrugging off one of Jack's many winter coats.

She had been living off his suitcases because she didn't believe Claudia when she told her that Australia and New Zealand were actually cold between June through September. Miriam genuinely thought it was going to be similar to Florida in the winter and packed a lot of summer clothes. When she landed in Perth she was shocked that it was cold like in San Francisco. Luckily she did some shopping in Sydney and got some basics like leggings, jeans, and a few long sleeves.

"We're gonna be indoors then we'll be outdoors." He said hugging her from behind. He kisser her neck, dry humping her as he said, "Then my dick is gonna be in and outta you."

Miriam’s feet were killing her. She had the genius idea of wearing six inch Christian Louboutin strappy heels to a museum where she and Jack got a three hour tour of the entire museum that was the size of a mall. In her defense it was the only pair of shoes that went with her outfit.

She wore a black with clusters of small red flowers bustier and skirt set that had came with fingerless gloves that went up passes her elbows. The set was originally an ill-fitting maxi dress that was very loose in the chest area when Miriam bought it. She altered it herself creating a fitted cropped bustier and maxi skirt that went with her height. With the fabric she cut off, she made the long fingerless gloves.

"This concludes our tour, I hope you enjoyed it." The tour guide told Jack and Miriam.

"We did thanks." Jack smiled at them.

The tour guide led them to the entrance and thanked them once more. Miriam sat in the nearest chair and sighed contently.

"You good?" Jack asked her.

"No, my feet hurt from all that walking." She pouted.

"Who told you to wear them to this?" He asked.

"Certainly not you because you wouldn't even tell me where we were going." She muttered.

"I'mma order an Uber then get our coats." He said, typing away on his phone.

Miriam nodded and handed him the two slips the coat person gave them when they checked in their coats. She was twisting in her seat, cracking her back, when she realized she was sitting in front of the gift shop. She quickly got up and texted Jack that she went inside the gift shop.

She loved buying books from museums or places she's been to. She also collected a bunch of fashion history books. Miriam just loved having them around her house. Not only for aesthetic purposes but also because she loved immersing herself in them and learning.

She found the main one for the museum and several other ones from specific exhibitions. She also grabbed a few books about plants, animals, and flowers. She paid and nearly ran into Jack at the entrance.

"All set?" He asked her, taking the bag so she could put on her giant coat.

"Yeah," she nodded, zipping her coat all the way up to her chin.

"Our uber is three minutes out." Jack said, reaching for her hand.

They exited the museum and stood in the pick up area. Not long after a black SUV pulled up. Jack approached the car and asked who they were here for. When the driver answered with his name, he motioned Miriam to go in.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and read an email her mom sent her while her and Jack were on their tour. She clicked on the attachment. It was a draft of an article Sydney Sweeney did for the Hollywood Reporter for her Emmy nominations. A lot of actors do interviews after getting nominated as part of an Emmy campaign to get the academy to vote for them. Miriam also got nominated for her role in the mini series she did with Jenna Ortega, but she wasn't doing any Emmy campaigns. She was just honored to be nominated.

Miriam skimmed the article, rolling her eyes where Sydney defended Cassie for fucking her best friends abuser. Her eyes landed on a paragraph where Sydney talked about how it's unfair about people having connections being able to walk in while she had been busting her ass for years. She went on talking about how she isn't privileged enough to take six months off from working to travel with her rapper boyfriend like a certain actress who looks like her mom. Sydney went on about this certain actress for a few more paragraphs, shaming her for coming from a rich family, but ended with her being happy that she actually got a role her and the certain actress were auditioning for.

Miriam frowned. There's no way Sydney was talking about her. Sure she fit most of the criteria and they both auditioned for a role that went to the blonde actress. But why did Sydney even mention her? Miriam literally minded her business and knew her place when it came to auditions. She was fully aware and acknowledged the privilege she had because of who her parents are.

She went back to the email and read what her mom sent her. It was a summary of the article, explaining that it was going to be published, but the author had worked with Isabela and sent her a draft of the article as a courtesy. Her mom also asked if she wanted to make a statement regarding what Sydney said. Miriam replied to her mom, asking her to leave it alone. She didn't have the energy to start some unnecessary beef with someone that doesn't affect her life.

She felt Jack shake her shoulder. "Bro, I've been calling your name."

"Huh?" Miriam blinked at him.

"We're back at the hotel." He said.

"Oh shit." She mumbled, scooting to the door. She turned to the driver and thanked them.

Jack placed his arms over shoulders and guided them to their suite. He was dropping off their things before heading to the roof for their private dinner. He could tell something was on Miriam's mind. She never missed a chance to talk about what she bought at places. He deduced it must've had to do with what she was reading on the drive to the hotel.

"You okay?" He asked her gently.

"Not really," she sighed, hugging herself. "My mom got an article sent to her that Sydney Sweeney did and she spent a good chunk of it shading me because of who my parents are."

"What the fuck? Why?" Jack frowned.

"Because I don't need to work and it's unfair that she can't afford a gate around her house and she needs to stay booked to afford it." She said in a snippy tone.

"Come here." He said, opening his arms. Miriam begrudgingly walked to him. He hugged her tightly and kissed her temple. "Fuck her and fuck who else has shit to say about you. You're one of the most hardworking people I've met in the industry. You're actually aware of the privilege you have unlike several people we know who thrive off it and act completely shocked that they and their families have connections. I'm sorry that she came for you unwarranted like that. I can't speak for you, for obvious reasons, but I want you to know that you're a fucking badass, Miriam. Last year you filmed three movies and a tv show and this year you won your first Oscar and Grammy and you just got an Emmy nomination. That shit doesn't come solely for being the daughter of people in the industry. Those awards and nominations are a result of your hard work. Sure your connections helped you out in the beginning but in the end your talent why you deserved it. I don't want you. I don't want you feeling bad. Okay?"

"Okay.” Miriam nodded tearfully.

Jack wiped the tears and leaned down to kiss her. "Let's get going. Our reservation is in fifteen minutes."

They went down to the lobby, there was a separate elevator that led guests to the restaurants and lounges in the hotel, and took the elevator to the rooftop bar. Miriam’s face lit up when she saw the igloos. They were a dozen igloos, each the size of one of those sheds that Costco sold that look like mini homes. Though these were shaped like igloos.

Jack checked in with the hostess and they led him and Miriam to an igloo for two. Inside there was a small velvet couch with a coffee table in the middle. Across from that was a small dining table with two chairs.

"Any drinks to start the night?" They asked Jack and Miriam.

"Water for now." Miriam said.

"I'll take sparkling water." Jack said.

"I'll bring those in a bit. Here are the menus." The hostess said, placing them on the dining table.

"Thank you." Jack and Miriam said in unison.

The hostess nodded and walked out of the igloo. Miriam shrugged off her coat and placed it behind a chair before making her way to the couch. Jack did the same and took the menus so they could look at them. He sat next to her and draped her legs over one of his thighs.

"This is nice." Miriam said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Not too cheesy?" Jack asked nervously.

"Oh it's corny as hell," she said, making him laugh. "But that's not a bad thing. I rarely got to do dates like this in the past, so I really appreciate this. And it's also a change of pace. The past few weeks we've been jumping from location to location, going to show after show."

"I know we've been together the past few weeks but I feel like we haven’t spent time together. Just us, you know." He said, placing his hand on Miriam's knee.

"Aw you're a big ol' shoftie." She said, kissing him.

"Don't say that you're gonna ruin my street cred."

"Bro, you're a white guy from the suburbs. You don't have street cred."

"Shut up."

Miriam cackled.

A server came by with their drinks. They took Jack and Miriam's orders. Jack got a steak with a side of veggies and mashed potatoes. Miriam ordered the pan fried chorizo and ricotta gnocchi. They also ordered fish and chips for their appetizers.

"Oh, so my friend Malia is in Auckland and I haven't seen her in a while. Is it okay that I invite her to your show?" Miriam said, dipping a fry in tatar sauce.

"Yeah, what's her full name so I can have Neelam add her to the list. Calum and Claudia are also going, right?"

She nodded, covering her mouth to chew.

"Cal just finished touring and they're meeting Cal's mom there." She took a sip of water and mumbled, "my friend's name is Malia Obama."

Jack choked on his bite of food. "Did you say Malia Obama? You know the president's daughter?"

"Our families go back." She shrugged. "My parents endorsed Barack in both elections and they all became friends sometime in between. My family and I even attended that dinner where Malia gave Sasha a thumbs up when they met Blake Lively's husband."

"Who don't you know?" He asked her genuinely.

"Gabriel Iglesias."

Jack laughed loudly, shaking his head.

The rest of dinner was peaceful. After they ate, a few servers cleared the table and brought out a dessert charcuterie board with a small fondue pot. They also had a drink tray with hot chocolate with things for them to customize their drinks. Despite eating all of that in a span of three hours, that didn't stop them from wanting to fuck.

"Get naked." Jack said, kicking the door shut. "But keep the heels on."

***

"That's too petty, Claudia." Miriam said, taking her phone from her best friend.

"I mean she did spend half of her article talking about you." Malia pointed out. “It was like she was looking for an excuse to mention you without really mentioning you.”

"See, Malia agrees with me." Claudia said, snatching Miriam's phone.

They were backstage at the Trusts Arena where Jack was going to perform. A few days after Sydney Sweeney's article was released, Miriam had received news that she was going to replace the blonde actress in a sapphic romcom starring Hailee Steinfeld as her love interest. It was the role she mentioned in her article that she beat Miriam.

Now Miriam was deciding on what should be her caption for her post. Claudia and Malia were suggesting she take the petty route and caption it with 'I have never ever been happier'. She decided to post a picture of her and Hailee Steinfeld from the 2018 Met Gala with 'Can't wait to work with you Hails <3' to her Instagram Stories.

"You're no fun." Claudia said, reading the caption.

"I'm not risking it. This is probably gonna be the only chance I get to make out with Hailee." Miriam said loud enough for Jack to hear.

"What's this about you making out with people that aren't me?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"It's for work." She reassured him.

Jack eyed her suspiciously. "If you say so." He turned to Malia and the couple that couldn't keep their hands to themselves. "Y'all good? Is there something you want us to get?"

"I'm good, thank you." Malia said.

"We're good too." Calum answered for him and Claudia.

"When was the last time the three of us hung out?" Claudia asked Malia and Miriam.

"Like four years ago at Outside Lands but Miriam ditched us to hook up with some guy who was making her laugh at Future's after party." Malia said.

"Yesss," Claudia nodded. "Miriam was laughing at everything he was telling her. I remember the guy was obviously trying to get a Miriam but he was nice enough to make small talk with me and Malia. He asked me what I was studying and I was like education then he was like–"

"That's where the money is." Jack finished for her.

"Yeah, how'd you– no!" She exclaimed. Claudia opened Calum's jacket and grabbed her phone from the inside pocket. "There's no way."

"What?" Miriam asked.

"Jack was the guy you fucked." Claudia said, quickly scrolling through her snapchat memories.

"Claudia por favor." She laughed in disbelief. Miriam turned to Jack. "Were you at Outside Lands back in 2018?"

"He performed in the morning and Drama got us into Future's after party." Urban said, opening a bag of chips. He pointed at Jack. "This fucker ended up leaving with some girl who couldn't stop laugh– holy shit! You guys fucked."

"We did not. I would have remembered Jack." Miriam said.

"He didn't look like this." Urban patted Jack's cheek affectionately. "He couldn't grow a beard back then."

"Man fuck off." Jack murmured.

"I have like twenty videos of that party." Claudia said.

She played the first video. Her and Malia were vibing to the music while Miriam filmed them. A voice in the background, clearly Jack, began talking to Miriam. She burst into a fit of giggles after one cheesy joke. The video ended with Claudia taking her phone back because Miriam was filming the ground and laughing. Claudia played another video where Jack, who appeared in the video, was promoting his upcoming mixtape Loose and telling them that it was coming out in a few days. In the background of that video Miriam was swearing up and down that she was going to listen to it. The last video was of Claudia and Malia saying that they were waiting for their designated driver to stop making out and the camera flipped to Jack and Miriam heavily making out.

"Yo, does this look like Jack?" Urban asked Quiiso, who happened to walk past them.

"What do you mean? That is Jack." He said. "He never took off that Generation Now chain back then."

"Now, who does the girl look like?" He asked.

"Miriam." Quiiso answered. He took a double take. "Ain't this the time Jack hooked up with a girl at Outside Lands and he was devastated that he never got her name at Future's after party."

"Aw you were devastated." Miriam gushed, nudging Jack's shoulder.

“Not anymore.” he murmured as his cheeks turned red.

The topic changed and eventually The Homies went on stage. Then it was Jack’s turn to perform. A few hours later Jack and Miriam were back in their suite. Miriam was in bed replying to Claudia because she and Calum dropped Malia back at where she was staying and that they made it to where Calum’s mom’s place was. Jack came out of the bathroom in some pj’s with its accompanying long sleeve, drying his curls with a towel.

“That was Claudia, she said everyone is back home.” Miriam said, rolling to her side to connect her phone to the charger.

Jack hummed in response and climbed in bed. He opened her legs so he could lay in between them. He liked laying on Miriam because she would play with his curls.

“I still can’t believe we hooked up all those years ago.” he said, opening the one button that was fastened on her silk pajama top. He kissed between the valley of her breasts. “I would have remembered your cackle.”

“What cackle?” she asked, pushing him off so she could take off her silk pants.

“‘What cackle?’ You know damn well which one.” Jack said, pulling down his pajama pants. He brought her hips close to his. “Now let me fuck the giggles outta you.”

Taglist: @cherryxcreme @heavyhitterheaux @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezyxo @youngharleezy @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @whywontyoulovemecami @meyocoko @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @a-moment-captured

#jack and miriam #jack harlow smut #jackharlow #jack harlow #tw sydney Sweeney

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