#bouquetsofpedrochallenge

“A face of a dating app? Me? Are you shitting me right now?”

Dieter lowered his sunglasses to stare at Erin, his PR manager. They’d met at a restaurant to discuss the future of his career after it had been hit by yet another scandal, involving the famous actor.

“It's not just a dating app,” Erin began explaining. “They guarantee that a person will meet their soulmate there. It’s called ‘Perfect Match‘. They have some kind of an algorithm to … ehm.. whatever. Not important. What’s important is that it’s wholesome, Dieter, and we desperately need to clean up your image. At least try,” the woman added, failing to hide defeat in her voice.

“ ‘s all defamation,” Dieter mumbled before taking a sip of his 11am White Russian.

The woman continued,

”If you want to ever be in a good movie, that’s a great start. Right now casting directors avoid you like a plague. B movies will be all you can get pretty soon.”

“Ouch.”

“You know it’s true.”

Dieter did know it so he said ‘yes‘.

He and his team met with the app people the next week. He missed half of the shit they discussed playing ‘animal crossing’ on his Switch but at the end of the meeting he signed the contract and they scheduled an ad shoot.

On the day of the shoot, Dieter was ready to die of boredom, filming the boring ad - he had to interview a happily married couple that had found each other on the app. In his mind he was already planning what he was going to drink, sniff, take and fuck that night, barely noticing what was happening around him on set.

Yet when he saw the couple, his attitude made a u-turn, especially when he laid his eyes on the most precious co-star - you. His mind short circuited and every part of him started buzzing.

Especially his cock.

You were a beautiful woman, there was no question about that, but what made him howl like a cartoon wolf was your big pregnant belly, accentuated by your thin summer dress. Your boobs were almost spilling out of the neckline and Dieter immediately bricked up as he shamelessly took you in.

"Meet the Pikes," his manager introduced the two of you. "They met on the app, got married and now they’re expecting a baby. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Amazing. When's the due date?" Dieter blurted out, shaking your hand, almost choking on his saliva.

"Next month," you replied without a beat, smiling widely at the actor. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Mr Bravo. And my husband too."

Your husband, Marcus, turned out to be an aspiring actor. He was hot as well, tall and well built with short dark hair and eager eyes. He looked too clean for Dieter, too put-together in his white dress shirt and black slacks, but it could be fun to ruffle the guy up a bit.

Dieter smirked, ogling the two of you. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight.

The shoot was done fast, thanks to you two being really great on camera and Dieter applying all of himself to finish the job. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with you in a private setting.

“Hey, guys, would you like to have dinner at mine? Get to know each other better?”

Your face lit up and you looked at your husband with your eyes full of hope and excitement and Marcus accepted the invitation with a polite smile.

“Yay!” you exclaimed, making a tiny joyous jump, which made your beautiful breasts jiggle. Dieter smiled and bit his lip. ‘Yay’ indeed.

Dieter took you and Marcus home in his limo and on your way there you told him about your husband’s little roles, sounding very proud of his accomplishments. Marcus asked Dieter for some advice on how to make it big in the industry and feeling flattered the actor happily shared his thoughts.

Dieter really liked you both but you made his heart beat faster and his cock throb. Talking to your husband, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you, imagining fucking you in every possible position. He’d prefer to rail you on your back so he could see your amazing tits and your bulging belly on full display. He needed to lay his hands on your gorgeous body as soon as possible.

Suddenly he noticed that you got nervous and fidgety.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" he asked with furrowed brows, his tone concerned. "Is it the baby?"

"Oh no." You shook your head. "It's - no, nothing.

It's embarrassing."

Marcus came to your help and, when you nodded for him to go on, he explained.

"She has milk coming in and it gets uncomfortable sometimes."

Dieter almost jizzed in his soft pants that very moment.

You were looking upset, trying to fix your jacket over your boobs. Gorgeous, wonderful, perfect boobs which were apparently leaking milk right in his limo. Dieter could have thrown his hands up to the sky in a thankful prayer but instead he took your hand in his and cooed at you,

"Oh, baby, don't be embarrassed. It's the most natural thing. And it's beautiful. You're beautiful."

“Thank you, Mr Bravo,” you said with a shy smile and relaxed a little.

“Call me Dieter, honey.”

Dieter didn’t lie. You were glowing, your beauty leaving him breathless. He really wanted to see your wet top but he stopped himself from asking just in time.

Soon you arrived at his penthouse and had a nice dinner, talking about Dieter’s roles, your hopes and dreams. The older man found you two delightful but at the back of his mind he was still thinking about your leaky boobs while his cock was stiffening in his pants again and again.

After the dinner, you continued the conversation in his living room, you and your husband on the couch, Dieter in the armchair. He got you some water, two glasses of white wine for Marcus and himself and then returned to the topic on his mind.

“Can I ask you something, honey? I’m afraid it’s inappropriate.”

You looked a bit surprised and glanced at your husband before saying,

“Oh…ok.”

”I thought milk comes after a baby’s born. And you have it now?“

“Yeah, sometimes it happens before,” you started explaining, looking a little shy. ”My doctor says it’s normal. The body is getting ready.”

“Yeah, nature is amazing,” Dieter mused before taking a sip of his wine.

You sighed.

“It’s not really convenient though and it hurts a little.”

“Oh, because there’s no one to drink it yet?”

“Yeah.” You both laughed and Dieter tilted his head.

“Have you ever tasted it?”

“Mr Bravo,” you gasped, averting your eyes with a timid smile on your flushed face.

“Dieter, baby,” he corrected you. He noticed the way you bit your lip and how Marcus squirmed in his seat. You both didn’t look scandalized or offended.

“Ehm, I tasted it once,” you admitted quietly. ”Just to try it. It’s sweet.”

“Oh, really?” Dieter gruffed, his eyes sparkling at your confession. He bucked his hips— even in his soft pants his erection was getting painful.

“What about you, Marcus?”

“No, it’s for the baby,” the younger man replied with a shake of his head but immediately glanced at your gorgeous chest.

“Well, the baby isn’t here yet, right?” Dieter pushed, not tearing his dark eyes off the two of you. Marcus nodded and swallowed hard as his hand darted to adjust his crotch.

“But we are,” Dieter purred, testing the waters. Your breath hitched and you pressed your thighs together. You glanced at Dieter, your pupils dilating. The actor was sure that your pussy was already tingling, so he gave you a playful wink, then leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees, and asked,

“Can I see them?”

That’s how you ended up moaning and whimpering, sandwiched between Dieter and your husband Marcus on the couch. Your dress neckline and bra were pulled down, your naked tits pushed up, Dieter’s lips tightly wrapped around your breast, as much as he could engulf with his greedy mouth. He was growling into your tit, slurping down your sweet milk, kneading the other leaking boob with his big hand. His cock was tenting his pants, the crotch stained with pre cum, but he was hesitant to pull his dick out. He didn’t want to push you further too fast, didn’t want your husband to take you away from him.

Marcus seemed a bit uncomfortable when you showed Dieter two wet spots on your chest and when the actor held your clothed boob, as if weighing it in his hand. But Dieter knew what he was doing. He was gushing over your beauty, meanwhile mentioning how much he wanted to help Marcus with his career, how much he was going to do for him, for your family. The prospect of being Dieter’s protégé excited the young actor. Besides he couldn’t deny that watching the older man touch your milky breasts made Marcus rock hard in seconds.

While Dieter was gulping down your milk, your sweet noises were driving Marcus mad with arousal. He would hear you moan like that only when his cock was ruining your tight pussy. A pang of regret painfully stung his heart and he chided himself for never sucking on your tits, never giving you such great pleasure.

The actor interrupted his thoughts.

“Pull him out, man. I know you’re fucking hard. We both are,” Dieter mumbled, after letting your puffy nipple out of his mouth with a pop.

Milk immediately trickled down the curve of your breast and Dieter rushed to scoop it up with his tongue, before latching onto the source of your creamy nectar again.

Marcus’s head was clouded with lust, it was difficult to think straight, and he let himself get swallowed by the depravity of the situation.

“Baby?” He croaked, questioning his next move, and when you nodded eagerly, his hands immediately began unbuckling his belt. He took his stiff cock out and started stroking it, watching the famous actor suck milk out of his wife’s tits.

Dieter felt himself on cloud nine. The taste of you was divine, your soft whimpers were getting louder and needier, and you kept squirming in your seat. Just a minute and you’d be inviting him to taste not only your titty juice but your pussy juices too.

The older man moaned when he saw Marcus’s gorgeous cock. It was not as big as his, less thick, but it looked like a good time and besides was very aesthetically pleasing.

Your faces were flushed, your pupils blown out to the max. You both were ready to take the plunge into the world of lustful ecstasy.

“Fuck, you two are so hot,” Dieter breathed out and then whispered into your ear, playing with your wet nipple, ”C’mon, baby, let me make you feel real good. I wanna celebrate your gorgeous body the right way.”

He offered you his huge hand and you took it before glancing at your husband.

“Marcus, you two won’t regret tonight. I promise you,” Dieter said to the younger man who visibly shuddered with desire.

The actor smirked and helped you up from the couch. Marcus got up too, his hand wrapped around his crying cock, stepped up to you and kissed your lips. His hands were holding your face gently, his member bobbing between your bodies. The kiss was passionate and soft, and Dieter smiled, witnessing your love and lust for each other, but soon his own desire overtook him.

“Get a room, lovebirds,” he chuckled. “And I know just the place.” You parted from each other and followed the actor to his bedroom.

The first thing Dieter did when you three stepped into his spacious bedroom was undress you. Slowly, taking his sweet time, showering you with praise, he freed your wonderful body from the confines of your clothes.

Marcus hastily discarded his own clothes, watching the older man take your dress off and then slide your panties down your legs.

Dieter brought your wet underwear to his nose and the scent of you sent shivers down his spine and electricity through his cock. He got naked fast and then, taken with admiration and lust for you, fell on his knees. He looked up at you with piety in his puppy eyes, gently placed his palms on your round belly and cooed, taking in your beautiful form.

“Fucking goddess! Look at her, man,” he turned to Marcus who was sitting naked on the edge of the huge bed, slowly stroking his shaft.

“We must cherish her,” Dieter gushed, caressing your belly and your hips, “You're a miracle, honey.”

“She really is,” Marcus smiled.

You looked shy, standing naked in front of the men, one of whom you had met that very day, but Dieter saw how much you enjoyed his praise- your eyes were sparkling and your wide smile was genuine.

“May I…?” Dieter reached up on his knees and kissed your belly, gliding his hands over the roundness of your body. He was leaving soft kisses over the stretched skin of your stomach and you were breathing faster and faster. Then his lips travelled south to your mound and he kissed it gently with his mouth open. You hand flew to his disheveled hair but not to stop him - you caressed his head instead and tilted your hips forward, silently asking for more.

Dieter didn’t need to be invited twice. He spread your folds with his fingers and leaned in to give your hardened clit a lick. You gasped at the sensation and your knees almost buckled. Marcus rushed to you immediately and wrapped his arm around your torso and under your arms. Like a devoted husband he let you use him for stability while the older man was eating you out.

Dieter pushed his tongue deeper, reached your crying hole with the tip of the hot muscle, then dragged it between your folds back to your clit. Your moans filled the room when he began sucking on your engorged clit just like he’d done with your leaky nipple minutes ago. He couldn’t dare to touch his cock, he was afraid to come too soon.

After a few minutes Dieter pulled away from your cunt and admired you two, standing before him— you, beautiful and soft, Marcus strong and muscular. Your husband’s cock was bobbing in front of the older man’s face, and Dieter tentatively put his hand on the man’s hip, silently asking if he could go further. Marcus locked eyes with him and Dieter got his answer.

He slowly took the man’s cock in his mouth, inch by inch, and heard you moan.

“Baby, that’s so hot,” you mumbled watching your husband getting blown by the actor. Dieter hated leaving you without attention so his thumb quickly found your clit, two of his fingers plunged into your hole, and he began fingering your soft pussy.

At that moment Dieter dreamed of two more hands and another mouth so he could pleasure you both at the same time, but alas, he had to alternate between licking your pussy and sucking your husband’s cock.

Marcus and you began kissing, swallowing each other’s pleasured whimpers, while Dieter was feasting on your cunt and his length. Soon you came, shaking against your husband’s body who was holding you tight, not letting you fall when the waves of euphoria were hitting you over and over.

Dieter was happy with his job for now. He sat on his heels, looking up at your satisfied smile and Marcus’s engorged cock. Your tits were leaking again and he missed having them in his mouth so he ordered,

“Bed you two. Now.”

There was no harshness in his voice. Just desire and admiration for the two people giving him the pleasure worthy of gods.

You were lying down on the bed, your back resting on a few pillows, Dieter by your side. Marcus took place between your legs, licking the mixture of your cum and Dieter’s saliva off your puffy folds.

The actor began drinking from your tit again but now he wanted more.

“Can I play with you a little, beautiful? I’ll be gentle,” he purred into your ear and you moaned a soft ‘yes’.

Dieter latched to your nipple, sucked out a mouthful of your creamy liquid and sat up. He leaned down and slowly poured your milk out of his mouth right on your blooming pussy. It hit your clit first and then slid down to your hole right into the mouth of your husband, whose tongue was thrusting in and out of you. Marcus hungrily licked it off and growled against your cunt.

“Baby?” You sounded nervous.

“More,” your husband replied and you giggled with relief.

Dieter repeated the action a few more times, letting Marcus slurp your milk off your glistening cunt. Playing with you like that, they made you come again and then one more time. Drunk on euphoria you began breathing heavily, your forehead was sweaty, your lips parted and gulping air.

“My love,” Marcus cooed at you, climbing up the bed to the other side of you. “You ok?”

“Yes,” you huffed with a smile. “Just tired.”

Dieter looked at you with his puppy eyes and asked,

“Wanna stop, baby?”

You looked at his fat cock, then at Marcus’s crying member and shook your head.

“No, I wanna make you two come.”

“Oh, honey,” Dieter muttered and kissed your cheek. “You’re an angel. We don’t deserve you.”

“Where do you want us?” Marcus asked softly, caressing your belly with his sweaty palm.

“Yours in my pussy. Dieter, can I suck you off?

It took everything from Dieter not to come right then and there.

The men took their positions fast, yet still moving very carefully around you. Marcus got settled on his knees between your legs and was gliding his hands up and down your thighs, waiting for you to be ready.

Dieter kneeled next to your shoulder, bringing his cock to your mouth as close as possible, caring for your comfort.

“I won’t go deep, beautiful. Just lick him a little and I’ll come. I can bust just looking at you.”

You nodded, smiling up at his handsome face.

Marcus started first. The cold wet tip of his cock nestled at your entrance and he started pushing it in. Your cum and his pre fuck juice made it easy for you to take his length and soon your husband was growling, seeing his cock plunged deep inside your pussy.

“Oh, baby,” you moaned, watching his member move in and out of you, your greedy cunt swallowing him whole again and again. You twisted your nipple and a jet of milk burst out of your tit and hit Marcus’s lower belly. It trickled down the man’s happy trail and Dieter whined,

“That’s the hottest shit I’ve seen. Baby, can I do it?“

“Yeah,” you mumbled, delirious with lust and pleasure.

Dieter took your nipple between his fingers and gently pulled on it. ”Fuck me,” he grunted, as he began spraying your milk everywhere— Marcus’s chest, his stomach, your big belly, your glistening pussy. For some time you were mesmerized watching the sweet juice of your tits slide down your husband’s abs and then reach the place where the two of you were joined.

“Hnggg,” Dieter growled, “some extra lube for you two. Fuck this milk deep into her pussy, Marcus. Make her sweet all over.”

You were moaning loudly, drowning the lewd squelching sounds of your husband’s cock churning milk inside your cunt.

You needed to ground yourself or you’d die of immense pleasure, so you turned to Dieter who was still playing with your milky breasts and took the fat head of his cock into your mouth.

The actor made the neediest sound and bent over as if you hit him in the stomach.

“Your mouth, baby, it's heaven,” he moaned through heavy breaths and then roared, dropping his head back in ecstasy.

“Fuck— gonna come.“

A rope of his seed hit the back of your mouth and you took him deeper, breathing through your nose, letting the older man spill his cum inside your mouth and down your throat.

Marcus followed him immediately and his cock started filling you full of his hot sperm, adding even more wetness to your core. The men used both of your holes to discard their fat loads and you happily swallowed Dieter’s seed with your mouth and Marcus’s with your pussy.

When their balls were drained, they plopped on the bed on the both sides of you, panting and chuckling from time to time.

“‘s was fucking incredible,” Dieter breathed out, turning on his side, and looked at you with gratitude.

“Can I kiss your wife, Marcus?” He asked, lifting himself on one elbow.

“If she wants it.”

Marcus gave you both a tired smile.

Dieter looked deep into your eyes, leaned closer and your sparkling eyes screamed ‘yes’.

He finally kissed you. His lips were slowly caressing yours, your tongues tangled, his hand was rubbing your round belly, yours was cupping his scruffy cheek.

When you parted from him, Marcus seized your chin and turned your head to him. Your lips met and as Dieter watched your husband lick into your mouth, a satisfied smile spread across his face.

“That app is the shit,” he muttered. ”We matched perfectly.”

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

Also check out my favorite milky stories. They’re amazing! Leave some love to the authors if you enjoy their work.

Liquid Gold (Joel, Tommy) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Mother who provides (Joel) by @pedge-page

While the baby sleeps (Ezra) by @mothandpidgeon

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He considers doing something big and splashy, of course.  And public - very, very public.  Afterall, not being P with his DAs had been what tore the two of you apart. 

Well, part of it, anyways.

Double-paged feature in Variety.  Highway billboards with matching ads on the side of buses.  Live poetry reading on the big screens in Time Square.

But all of that would be very old Dieter Bravo of him and he was no longer that man - in large part because of you, for you.

Dieter had met you many, many moons ago.  Always a friendly face on whatever set or industry event it was where you might cross paths, the two of you had gone from familiar acquaintances, to friends, to someone the other actively sought out for good company or shelter when the bright lights got too hot, the clamouring crowds too loud.

When you first met, Dieter thought you must be an actress - you were too beautiful, too captivating not to be onscreen.  But while you did have a few extra credits to your name, he soon learned that your ambition lay behind the camera.  He remembers the first time he heard your melodic voice ring out across set - like a drunken sailor to a siren’s call, he followed it without question in a semi lucid state (Hey! What’s a little marijuana between a movie star and the teamsters?).  But upon the lifting of his fog, Dieter found not his destruction, but salvation: a sympathetic ally on set, someone with whom he could be a team – a calm in the chaotic storm that was most movie productions,

You worked hard at learning and mastering your trade, and your keen eye and intuitive sense for movie making sang your merits louder than that hypnotic voice of yours that first drew Dieter (and others) to you; that you were easy to get along with and impossible to say no to was no small feat in this business – especially for a woman.  Dieter watched as you dogged forward, paying your dues and solidifying your reputation and resume – whenever he hears your name being bantered about behind the doors of Hollywood’s most coveted meetings, he feels only excessive pride.  He would tell you himself if you were speaking to him. 

Dieter still remembers the night when the two of you crossed that unspoken line for the first time; even now he’s not sure what he would have done if Cupid hadn’t been on his side.  There had been some studio gala, nothing special – or so he thought.  Slipping away from the endless shmoozing and sycophantic hoards that tend to overrun these gatherings, Dieter escaped through the catering entrance in search of some obliging venue service staff (Hollywood hot tip: the wait staff always have the best drugs!).  Instead, he had found you - sitting on a table pushed to the side of the corridor, fancy ballgown fanned out, eating popsicles, legs swinging without a care in the world.

“Dieter!” your cheer was infectious, your smile mischievous and joyful, “I didn’t care for any of those tiny finger desserts they had going out on the trays so I asked the wait staff what they kept in the back for dessert and they gave me a whole box!”  His search for extracurriculars forgotten, Dieter happily joined you, choosing instead to get drunk on your pretty face, happy chatter, and the completely innocent yet salacious way your mouth worked that frozen treat.

About three popsicles in (each) the icy desserts began melting – you managed to save yourself and finish yours just in time, but Dieter’s blue-raspberry concoction was rapidly disintegrating and about to make a guaranteed mess of his dress pants when your hands darted out, catching the slush midair.

Dieter cackled, marveling at your wide-eyed expression and hands, now wet, sticky and blue, “What did you do that for?”

“I don’t know," you crowed, eyes crinkling, still holding your cupped hands out in front of you, "I just didn’t want them to make some kind of 'blue balls' joke about you and your stained crotch in the tabloids tomorrow!”

He clasped his clean hand in yours, adhering himself to you in more ways than one - the two of you giggling and giddy as you re-entered the ballroom.  After finding a free table, some clean napkins and a pitcher of water, you sat as Dieter lovingly washed and cleaned your hands so that they wouldn’t be stained with Blue Dye #1.  He was on his knees, drying and holding your small delicate hands in his much rougher, clumsier ones, when he happened to look up to see you gazing adoringly down at him, eyes grateful and looking at him like he was hanging the moon for you.

Dieter lifted up and unable to help himself, connected his lips to yours – hoping against hope that he wasn’t ruining one of the few precious, genuine connections in his life.  His relief was soon overtaken by desire when you kissed him back – the two of you somehow managing to make your way back to the service hallways, lips crashing together over and over like unstoppable waves of an inevitable ocean.  The kisses were sensual and messy, pure and happy – it made Dieter feel like a teenager again. 

“Is this weird?” he whispered at one point - vulnerable, no bravado.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you breathed, though your voice was soft, your touch reassuring, “but don’t stop.”  So, he didn’t.  He kissed your lips swollen, pressing you up against the wall and succumbing to the intoxication of your pretty noises and tender affection. 

Nothing else happened that night, and in fact, you had run away!  After getting a text that your friend was currently giving birth, you rushed off to the hospital like Cinderella, ballgown skirts gathered in your careful hands while darting away in the night.  Dieter, dazed and higher than he’s even felt, caught the kiss you blew him, and while pressing it to his slackened, blissed out face, vowed to become your Prince Charming.

He found you on set the following Monday and for the first time in a long time, Dieter Bravo, famously chill Cool Dude™ had felt shy, nervous.  He needn’t have been – you responded to his earnestness with sweet generosity, only ever honest and non-pretentious; it was clear that for the both of you, there was no going back to just friends. 

The rest as they say, was history. 

Except being with you felt completely new to Dieter – for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he looked forward to waking up to the start of each day, genuinely excited for its possibilities, and even more to coming home every night, grateful for the newfound comfort of life’s simple pleasures.

Grateful, yes.  If there was one thing Dieter wishes he could tell you it’s how grateful he is for you.  While you were blazing your own path to success, you had also helped him redefine his - believing in and supporting the seemingly unflappable Dieter Bravo when he admitted to wanting more.  Hollywood’s unbothered bro, Tinseltown’s perpetually aflame trainwreck darling was capable of and itching for growth, who knew?  You did.

You read scripts with him and talked through his needs and ambitions; finally having a sounding board with no self-serving stake in the financial success of his career choices, Dieter began choosing increasingly more varied and interesting projects with your encouragement and support.  He’s happier now, more fulfilled, challenged, engaged.

And he got sober (Well, he still drinks, but that doesn’t really count, right?  It’s Hollywood).  Detox had been a fucking nightmare but Dieter likes the voices in his head now.  They’re gentler with him, more forgiving, thoughtful.  They sound like you.

Dieter loved you so much, he wanted to climb to the top of the Hollywood sign and shout it all the way across the Pacific; he thought a love such as yours was limitless.

His publicists discouraged it.  The world loved the Dieter they knew: eccentric, sex-crazed, tabloid staple, a spectacle.  They weren’t interested in another middle-aged actor trying too hard to be taken seriously, who had seemingly left his wild days behind for a boring, stable relationship with a non-celebrity.  The public wanted ✨salaciousness✨glitz✨scandal✨.

You had gone along with keeping your relationship hidden, valuing your privacy and preferring to keep the sacredness of your love for one another only.  “I love you, Dieter,” you vowed, “I don’t need everyone to know it, but I don’t ever want to feel like your dirty little secret, okay?”

He promised you without really understanding what that meant.

Your relationship blossomed behind closed doors.  Both of you walked red carpets alone, careful not to get papped together, and on sets, remained cordial and professional until you got behind Dieter’s closed trailer doors where his affection for you knew no bounds, even when contained.  You would tell each other that your love wasn’t a secret, it was private, protected and kept safe from the prying and critical eyes of the public.

When his PR team arranged a fake relationship with the young and upcoming nepo baby starlet with whom he acted opposite in his latest movie as a means to promote the film, Dieter had reservations.  But he hadn’t said no. 

And after several long and serious conversations with his management about his fading relevancy and the exposure that the arrangement would net him, the starlet, the film, Dieter eventually relented and agreed to go along with it.  It seems that fame was the one drug that he hadn’t quite kicked. 

Dieter will never forget the look on your face when he brought up the PR campaign – the way your eyes crinkled in disappointment and the curve of your pretty lips pulling down your entire face haunts him every night. 

“What happens to your real girlfriend when you’re out with your fake girlfriend, Dieter?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask you to wait, or stay by his side, but hidden.  It was beneath you, insulting.  And to ask was to break his promise.

Turns out he didn’t even need to ask for you to feel the full weight of his betrayal.

The last words he ever spoke to you had been uttered pathetically to the front door you shut in his face, “Baby, maybe I can fix it.  Let me try.”  Their only registered response was the sound of your sobs getting softer and softer as you walked away, shutting the doors in the house he could no longer call home.

He hadn’t been able to fix it.  By design, Hollywood’s PR machine is a force, the joint efforts of Dieter and the starlet’s teams a runaway train.  Their “relationship” had been Page Six news before Dieter even had the chance to call his publicist to say that he couldn’t go through with it.  The public ate it all up just as predicted:

Dieter Bravo, Hollywood Chaos Prince back at it again, charming and capturing the heart of Tinseltown’s newest princess.

His mind swims of you.  During every press tour interview he does with his pretend girlfriend, Dieter cringes at the fake touches and gestures of affection choreographed for the cameras; all the scripted flirting and empty terms of endearment taste like acid on his tongue (and not the good kind either).  But none of this compares to the shame he feels at having hurt you, the owner of his heart, and that he likely continues to do so with every orchestrated date night photo-op for TMZ, every “happy couple” glambot he poses for on the red carpet.

Dieter finally sees you again six months into his fake relationship.

At the MTV Movie Awards, he’s waiting for the starlet to finish her solo shots, rubbing his temple at the too bright lights, the garish and loud décor, the music that doesn’t even sound like music, when he sees you stroll in on the arm of a man he doesn’t recognize.  But Dieter couldn’t care less who the man is - it’s you he can’t look away from; you’re laughing, radiant, soft.  Unchanged.  Ethereal. 

Dieter thinks he might vomit.  He thinks he might need to do a line.  He can’t let you see him.

Without excusing himself, Dieter leaves the red carpet and locks himself in a bathroom, trying to push down his bubbling panic attack.  He knows his “girlfriend” is probably beside herself, and that his unexplained absence is likely giving rise to new rumours and speculation that he’s on some kind of drug-fuelled spiral, but he can’t bring himself to come out.

Someone slips a KitKat under the door of the bathroom. 

Dieter knows it’s you; only you would be so subtle, so gentle, so reassuring with one simple gesture.  Only you know him and what brings him the most comfort.  He picks up the chocolate bar and stares at it for a while before biting into it, thinking about how he got himself into this mess.

A moment weakness.  A lifetime of regret.

Not if Dieter could help it.

He “breaks up” with the starlet the following week; it would have been handled even sooner if he didn’t have to fight and threaten to fire his entire team, eventually dragging in Legal to help him break the marketing contract he had unknowingly signed in blood.

Immediately Dieter starts planning how he will make things up to you, beg for another chance – apologize; drafting and discarding every over-the-top gesture that pops into his buzzing mind, each more theatrical and outlandish than the last.

He finally settles on a letter – one that Dieter can’t stop writing after he starts and ends up being eighteen pages (front and back).  It begins with an apology – for having hurt you so callously, for breaking his promise to you, and for, even if only a second, ever making you feel like you weren’t important or enough.  Especially when it was his own bruised ego that had needed the stroking – this entire disaster a result of his own weakness, born from a dark place inside where he had been made small by an industry that thrived on the insecurities of its so-called stars, and Dieter’s fear of feeling even smaller.  You made him feel so good while the two of you had been together, he naively thought that your light had eradicated all such voids and pits within him – but it was unfair to heap the responsibility of his growth and self improvement onto you.  And though he knows that he still has work to do, he credits your influence and compassion for the progress he’s made so far.  Around page six of the letter Dieter’s Sorrys transition into Thank Yous. 

Dieter thanks you for every way you’ve made him a better man, made him want to be a better man.  He thanks you for all the times your unparalleled support, kindness, and generosity have gotten him through the day on set, or through his self doubts at night.  Words of gratitude overflow from his pen, pouring out nearly faster than he can write – you, you, you.  He’s thankful for you.

And he misses you.  And not just all the ways you meshed your gentle life with the squishy bits of his, but just you.  Your sweet laugh.  The crinkle of your nose and the watering of your eyes at his farts sarcastic jokes.  And your mouth.  Great Paul Newman, he’s always been obsessed with your mouth – and not just what he knows it can do and how it tastes, but everything that comes out of it.  Dieter could listen to you talk about anything for hours – he might not know a single thing about what you’re talking about, but he understands eloquence, passion, and the artistry of words when he hears it.  Having spent most of his adult life around industry blowhards, Dieter knows that intelligence without pretension is a rarity - fresh air that he longs to breathe in again. 

On page twelve, Dieter tells you he loves you - loves you for everything you are and what you stand for.  He loves how you’ve remained gentle, even though the business of show makes it its mission to sharpen everyone and everything it swallows.  He loves that your default is always thoughtfulness and compassion, that you embody a quiet type of beauty that doesn’t need to be paraded about or loudly lauded in order to shine.  How do you make even the mundane so fascinating?  It must be that confident grace of yours.  Dieter writes an entire two pages on how he just wants to watch you wash dishes again – he tries to describe the meditative calm that comes just from seeing the soapy water bow to your whim, as if it knows the power and majesty of its bender; understanding as he does now the magnanimity it takes to ensure that no small movement is wasted, to make every action purposeful.  He’s enraptured by you.  Admires you. Worships you.  So, so in love with you.

He reads the letter over a hundred times before tying the folded pages together with a bright red bow.  Using his Bravo charm, Dieter sneaks onto the set of your latest movie and leaves it in your trailer on top of a jewelry box that holds an ostentatiously luxurious diamond necklace he bought you before everything had gone to hell.  He had kept it all this time, unable to bring himself to return it, never even considering giving it to anyone but you.

Three weeks pass and Dieter hears nothing back.

He had tried to prepare himself for this possibility – that perhaps you might never forgive him, want nothing more to do with him, but still, it’s with a heavier than expected heart that he gets ready for his movie premiere, the very same film he’d promoted with his fake relationship.  Dieter didn’t expect any drama at the event – he and the starlet spoke last week and agreed that arriving separately but acting like friends was the best way to quell the outrageous reasons for the “breakup” speculated in the gossip rags.  In truth, even though they had grown to become actual friends during the meshugana of the last few months, Dieter can’t help but associate this entire project with his own regret and shame - he can’t wait for this evening to be over.

He goes through the motions of the red carpet.  Greeting his co-stars with boisterous cheers and hard gripping handshakes.  Hitting his marks and smiling almost manically for the cameras.  Waving to the fans and signing every piece of paper shoved towards him (this part he really did not mind; you always said that his fans were the best and they are).  Doing his time in the interview pit.  When he’s near the end of the gauntlet, with only the Entertainment Tonight interview to get through before he can (blessedly) retreat to his seat in the theatre, a vivid glimmer of brilliance catches Dieter’s eye.  Unlike the near blinding flash of a photographer’s camera, this sparkle beckons him, brightly winking – he almost puts up a hand to shield his eyes before he realizes what it is.

It's you.

You’re at his premiere.  Gorgeous, breathtaking, elegant – you’re walking down the arrivals promenade… and you’re wearing the diamond necklace Dieter left with your letter.  Inadvertently tuning out the ET interviewer, he stares, awestruck, mouth agape – hopeful.  The interviewer can’t help but follow Dieter’s gaze and asks him who you are. 

“An angel,” he answers honestly.

At that same moment, you finally spot him and your face breaks into a big smile, the luminosity of which nearly drops Dieter to his knees.  Instead, he breaks out into a sprint, running towards you. 

When you see what he’s doing, you pick up your skirts and start moving towards him as well.  Dieter dodges and weaves between the bodies on the red carpet, trying not to slam into any of the people that stand between him and his everything, only vaguely aware of the Entertainment Tonight interviewer and her cameraman hot on his heels.

Suddenly, the crowd seems to part and there’s a clearing right where the two of you finally meet, stopping only inches from one another.  Dieter’s panting (fuck, he’s out of shape!) but grinning like a fool when you drop the fabric of your dress to bring your hands come up to cup his face, thumbs running lovingly over his unkempt scruff – a familiar gesture that feels better than any high he’s ever experienced.  Your face is flushed bright and content, home.

“You got my letter.”

“I did.”

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

“I am.”  Your eyes twinkle, complimenting the serenity and invitation of your countenance - both saying everything without even a word.  It gives Dieter the boost of confidence he needs.

“May I kiss you?”

“Even though we’re in public?” You’re being cheeky on purpose.

But for once Dieter won’t play - there is nothing except sincerity in his response, “From now on, only ever in public.  No more hiding.”

An orchestral movie score heard only by the two of you swells as you both move to close the remaining distance between your bodies, crushing your mouths together.  The kiss is passionate, deep and heated – leaving no doubt of your feelings for one another; not even the gawking onlookers can deny what you mean to each other.  Camera bulbs pop and bright lights flash all around as your lips settle and mold in a tender slow dance, loathed to be parted ever again.  Your hands card through Dieter’s soft curls, delicate fingers cradling his head soothingly, warm; his hands spread wide to cover your back, covetous and protective.

“No more hiding,” you whisper, face lit with joy at the adoration and promise reflected in Dieter’s mirrored expression.

He nods and tightens his arm around your waist, love and resolution coursing through his veins.  Sharing one last private look, the two of you turn in unison, a team, towards the awestruck Entertainment Tonight interviewer whose microphone is practically shaking with excitement.  Dieter beams his megawatt Bravo smile at her, “Is this what the kids call a hard launch?”

🎶Artic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know" lyrics (Hozier's version):

You are in the middle of unpacking yet another box filled with more clothes, when there is a knock at your front door. You look through the peephole, it’s Joel, so of course you open.

“Hello Neighbor,” you smile cheekily remembering the events from the previous day, whilst leaning against the door.

“Good Mornin’, hope ya slept well,” now he’s matching your expression, probably thinking of the same thing.

“Wanted to know if ya would like to have breakfast at mine, since, you know, you don’t really have a kitchen.” Suddenly he seemed all shy and nervous, looking at the ground and rubbing his neck.

“It would be an honor to have breakfast with you, Joel.” you step closer to him, touching his arm gently.

“Can I kiss ya?” He asks.

“Please,” you give him the green light and he presses his lips to yours in an instant.

He leads you over to his place and you settle into the seat at his dining table. Joel served you a delicious omelette with Feta cheese, onions, and topped with Parma ham. To your delight, the food is accompanied by a freshly brewed coffee and a herb peach tea infused with chamomile. 100% princess treatment.

When both of your plates are cleared, you and Joel easily fall into conversation.

“So, tell me darlin’, what brought you here?” He sips his Black coffee. “I assume s’ your first apartment by yourself?”

“Yes it is,” you bob your head “It’s difficult to explain everything but I guess I can try to summarize.”

Joel can tell by the way you get quiet that this is hard. “Baby, you don’t have to tell me.” He knows that reassurance is what you need right now.

“No, it’s okay, I think maybe speaking about it can help.” You nod to yourself.

“I was in a deep depression for 2 years, in that time my…” You sigh. “Mother went insane.”

“She started believing in all sorts of wild conspiracy theories and lost herself in that world. I don’t know this person anymore, whoever she was is gone. Apparently she stopped paying rent, without my knowledge, and one day I was awoken by loud banging on the door and that was it.”

“They kicked ya out?”

“Yes, I was in shock. I could only laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.” And you laugh now too while recalling those traumatic moments.

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been.”

“I try to see good in it, I would have probably never gotten out of there.”

“Moon, ya are incredibly strong for surviving all of this.” He grasps your hands.

“Thank you Joel,” you whisper and wipe away some stray tears.

Luckily, he stirs the conversation to more pleasant topics.

“Okayyyy, let’s talk about somethin’ else, what d’ya like to do in your free time?”

“I love photography.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, I love capturing the beauty in simplicity,”

“Would ya ever show me those pictures?”

“Of course I would.”

He smiles giddily before it’s replaced by a frown.

“You know, we did it all wrong,” he suddenly says and you look at him curiously.

“I mean, I should’ve taken ya out before…” Joel Miller blushing might be the cutest thing ever, “you know.”

You laugh. „Oh, yes, I know,”

“But then, wasn’t this our first date?”

“Excuse me,” he scoffs, “this was not our first date, I’ll be damned if breakfast goes down as our first date.”

“Well, I think the breakfast was already pretty good,” you shrug.

“No, pretty girl, I’m gonna make it more special.”

“Okay and when?”

Joel takes a moment, to deter the best time.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is…”

Joel finishes the sentence for you, “Valentine’s Day, yeah, I know.” He gives you a cheeky smile.

“Mooni, would ya want to be my Valentine?”

No one had ever asked you to be their Valentine, yet here is this stunning man and he wants you. You’re overwhelmed with happiness, having found something good after all these years.

“Ahh, yes, I’d like to your Valentine, Mr.Miller.”

You lean over the table and kiss him with urgency.

The next day, you get ready for whatever surprise Joel has planned for you.

You put on minimal makeup, wine-red lingerie, a black blouse and a simple plaid skirt.

After you spritz a bit of your vanilla perfume on your neck, there’s a knock at your door. It’s Joel in all his glory. When you whip open the door, his jaw drops open at your beautiful appearance. He went with a plain simple outfit but not any less enticing. You think he looks super sexy in his black T-shirt and those dark washed jeans.

You kiss him. “Hi! Happy Valentine’s Day, Texas.”

“Ya ready, pretty girl?” He asks as he holds out his hand.

“Lead the way Joel,” as you put your hand in his.

He opens every door for you up until you are seated in his truck. His hand on your thigh. You could get used to this.

After 30 minutes, you arrive at the destination and find out that what Joel had planned was watching a movie at the local Drive-In Theater.

Joel parks, tells you to stay put, and gets out to prepare the bed of his truck. After 5 minutes, he opens your side of the car, leading you by the hand. There’s a bunch of soft blankets, pillows, some snacks he must’ve brought and 2 cans of Vanilla Coke.

“Oh my god, Joel, this looks amazing. Thank you, this is the best Valentine’s Day and first date I’ve ever experienced.” You turn to him and lean up to kiss him.

“Baby, any good man should’ve treated ya like this.” He momentarily gets mad at those other guys for not treating you with the respect you deserve.

“Okay, come on let’s lay down. Get comfy.” He helps you onto the bed and then snuggles in beside you. Mama Mia starts playing, in the beginning you really try to pay attention but that turns into a make out session with Joel. The kisses are sloppy, his tongue exploring your mouth, teeth clacking together and the air only leaves you two in short huffs. Your hands are all over him, however now paying certainly more attention to his swelling length.

You know he probably wants to fuck but you have a little surprise to make it more interesting.

You pull away, Joel begrudgingly parts ways with your pillowy lips.

“Listen, since we are doing this the old-fashioned way, it would be scandalous to have sex on the first date.” You have to fight laughing at how Joel’s face falls, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“But, you know, I still have a gift for you, since it’s Valentine’s Day and all.” You smile at him sweetly.

“Go on,” words he regrets immediately when you start unbuttoning some buttons of your blouse. Until the wine-red lacy lingerie hugging your chest beautifully comes into view. He’s fucked, you play dirty games.

You make it worse when you grab his hand, slide it under your skirt till he feels the matching lacy thong. He closes his eyes as if in pain and grunts. He pulls his hand away though.

“Ugh, baby, s’ gonna be hard, but if ya wanna wait that’s fine with me.”

Then he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“The way I see it, bein’ patient, makes the reward jus’ so much better,” a dark chuckle tickles your ear, “and I promise ya I will wreck you for bein’ such a tease, naughty girl.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

“Ooooh isn’t it going to be romantic”

“I love this holiday”

“Wonder how many roses I will get”

You groan at the constant comments around the office in the lead up to Valentine’s Day. You have never been the kind of person,be it single or in a relationship, to enjoy Valentine’s Day. Yes it’s nice to get gifts & be doted on but you believe you don’t need a day to tell the person you love that you love them, you love them every day. Also there is currently the added bonus that no one in your office knows your in a new relationship. For lots of reasons you’ve had to keep it quiet. It’s been 6 months now, there’s been a few difficult conversations along the way so far but you know what to expect of each other.

As you sit there hearing Darcey talk for the 8th time that on Friday she has the day off & she’s sure her boyfriend will finally propose to her, you get a pop up on your screen.

My office with the reports in 10 mins.

“Always to the point” you mutter & start downloading last months sales reports to the usb drive. He is the only person in the world who hates using the cloud so this has to be done. You don’t mind it though. Means you know he’s not just skimming through the reports.

9mins later you knock on his office door & walk in closing it behind you.

“A minute early,” he says his back to you as he looks out the window at the grey busy city below. His Gucci suit being sleek & making his peachy arse, tiny waist & broad shoulders look emaculate. “Either that’s not good for sales, or you are getting too good at your job, guessing when I’m gonna ask for stuff.” He shifts back on his left foot before turning. There he is. Not a hair out of place. Looking as handsome as ever.

Your boss.

Your Boyfriend.

Max Phillips.

You always gulp upon seeing those eyes. Eyes so smouldering they could set a forest a blaze with one look. His hand smoothed out his blue tie. That large hand that makes you think bad things. & those lips, thin for now but blushing with life, the perfect way to end any day is to have those lips make contact, in lots of ways.

“Well that is why you hired me” you reply & wait for him to beckon you over. He might be your boyfriend & boss, but you are also his sub, & part of his supply of food. Max is a Vampire. Your obedience is rewarded with all sorts of things, but mainly mind blowing sex every other night. You’ve had so many orgasms in the last 6 months your world has truly been rocked. The two fingers extend & he does a come hither. You nod & walk across to him & hand him his usb. He grabs your hand, tightly & you gasp.

“Thank you darling” he then kisses your neck. You flinch a little. It’s the sore patch. It’s where he drinks from. You won’t let him drink while you have sex, one of the disagreements you’ve had, but on a Friday after you’ve dined & wined with whoever you have been out with, he will come over, drink from your neck so he can feel a little intoxicated too & then as you lie exhausted from being consumed yourself, he will devour your pussy until you can’t cum anymore.

“My pleasure sir” you say. He giggles a little, the glint in his eye even more shiney today.

He sits behind his desk & the two of you go through the sales reports. Despite you being his in almost every sense (he’s not agreed to turn you yet) he’s still very impressed with you, your work ethic, your charisma, your professionalism & the fact, that even though he is your master in lots of ways, that you will challenge him. No one has done that for over 200 years. He likes you feisty , because then he knows you’re being real & true. You wear your heart on your sleeve & that’s one of the reasons he adores you.

“That is actually all good” he says at the end of the review & chat”up 15% on last month that’s very reassuring, shows growth is continuing to get stronger”

“As I said Sir” you interject “we don’t need to grow at rapid speed just 12% each month for this year & then they will keep coming back & then recommend us”

“You’re so business savvy” he takes his large hand off the keyboard & strokes your chin. You try to not blush. “Your my little Angel”

“Max” you giggle unable to keep calm you know what thumb stroking usually means “we’re at work”

“&…”

“What if…”

“I’m in charge remember darling” the grip on your chin gets firmer. “If I wanted you under my desk every morning for a blow job, all

I’d have to do is snap my fingers & you’d be on your knees” your bright red, because you know it’s true. Power attracts you. His lore radiates. He pulls your face down, the eye contact intense, the sexual tension could cut through a coconut. Your kiss never materialises, as his phone rings. He answers it angrily.

“Fine fine fine” he says sternly before hanging up. “Sorry darling, rain check, new interns from the college, here to see if they want to work here”you are both disappointed but know you will get to continue later.

“Actual interns or a snack?” You ask he pulls a face of shock. Almost disappointed in your remarks, but you see the glint in his eye.

“Actual interns…” he then pauses & raises an eyebrow. “But the most Karen amongst them might be a nice little nibble” you giggle at him & take the usb back. “Hang on” you pause just before the door. “Remember I’m at a conference next week”

“Of course sir”

“Means a couple of nights away” he then pauses his face worried “including late home on Friday”

“&…” you reply.

“But it’s Valentine’s Day” he says. He’s shocked you don’t look sad.

“It’s just a day Max” you say softly. “I don’t need a certain day to be doted on” he then looks really shocked by this. In the 284 years he’s been alive he’s always spoilt the woman in his life on this day.

“You sure”

“Yes Max” you smile at him softly “my feelings won’t change for you they will be the same on Saturday as they will be on Friday” you nod & then leave his office.

Max sits back in his chair contemplating what you just said to him. Amazed you don’t want a fuss. He can read your mind, 9 times out of 10 he decides not to, but he had a quick feel around during that conversation & realised you weren’t lying. You really aren’t bothered. But that is going to make what Max has planned so much better. His mind planning only interrupted when the intercom goes to say the interns are in the lift to see him.

Valentine’s Day arrives.

After hitting your alarm on snooze, you see the message from Max on your phone.

I know i love you every day but today I felt like saying it, love you darling 💕

You reply saying the same back before getting in the shower. The hot steam making you wish Max was here, to touch you in lots of ways. Once dressed & in the kitchen making your coffee the door goes. You moan a little & hit the buzzer for whatever delivery this is to come up to your apartment, but your eyes are a delight when you open your eyes. A heart shaped cookie, with some small heart shaped chocolates on it & two roses with thorns still attached. The note that with it says “I bet this made you at least smile MPx” it had. Your dark heart which usually hates Valentine’s Day & the commercialism of it, starting to defrost a little. You decide to eat a chocolate as you head out to get the subway to work. As the last bit of chocolate melts on your tongue you feel wave of euphoria. Maybe it’s having something so sweet this early in the morning that’s woken up your senses, you’re not sure. But it’s making you bounce into the office this Friday morning. People notice how happy you are & are wondering what’s up.

When you get to your desk on your floor there is a pink heart shaped box, with a gold bow & a note. “Thought this morning was all you were gonna get? MPx” you untie the bow as some of your colleagues watch you. Those who aren’t then hear your squeal of excitement once it’s opened. A lavish selection of heart shaped chocolates & sweets sit inside & they smell amazing, making you lick your lips.

“Thought you didn’t do Valentine’s Day?” Danny asked.

“I don’t”

“& aren’t you single?” You blush at that.

“It’s complicated” you say. You’d love to shout out that you are getting railed by Max, but that would make things awkward. “But I have someone” you finish & you take a white chocolate heart & plop it in your mouth. “Oooh raspberry” you then offer the box to Danny “take one”

“But they are yours”

“I’m not gonna be able to eat them all Danny you take one for now & one for the journey” you offer innocently.

2hours later you suddenly realise the office is all around a much happier & nicer place. The usual mid morning slump never arrives. In fact, the entire office feels like it’s running on a different frequency, lighter, faster, buzzing with an energy that’s almost contagious. People are smiling, laughing, moving with an unusual ease. Even the usual grumblers seem… pleasant.

You lean back in your chair, watching as Danny animatedly chats with Sarah from accounts, his usual nervousness nowhere to be seen, he’s always had a crush on her. Across the room, even your perpetually stressed admin clark is grinning as she types away at her keyboard. It’s like someone has turned the volume up on life. It’s only when you realise that you’re tapping your foot at a ridiculous speed & that your fingers have been flying over your keyboard without you even noticing, that a thought creeps in.You glance at the open chocolate box on your desk.

Surely not?

Another bite of a heart chocolate sends a fresh wave of warmth through you, like you could take on the world. Your body feels incredible, light, sharp, almost euphoric. Your brain is firing on all cylinders.

Your phone vibrates. A message from Max.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

Your stomach flips. That bastard.

“What did you do?” You reply.The three dots appear.

“Hopefully get you loose”

You look up. Across the room, Danny meets your eye & grins, cheeks flushed. He winks.

“Oh fuck” you whisper & grab the box & run into Max’ office & lock the door behind you before calling him. He answers straight away.

“Darling”

“What’s in the chocolates Max?”

“Happy Val…” you interrupt him.

“I’m serious Max” you say sternly. “I passed them around the office”

“WHAT!” He screeches”why did you do that”

“Cos I’m not gonna eat 30 chocolates it would take me months”

“Fuck” he says “so how is erm… the rest of the office”

“Euphoric, In the most chilled Friday mood ever” you hear him tut.

“Well they have a mild aphrodisiac in them, just to let you inhibitions go” he chuckles. He’s drugged you & no also due to your generosity most of his staff.

“You think this is funny?” You state.

“I do, sorry daring. I didn’t want you stressing & I wanted you to have a nice calm day without me” he then pauses”wait where are you calling me from im guessing not the office floor”

“I ain’t that stupid Max” you scoff “I’m in your office, panicking”

“Bottom left draw of my desk” he says. His tone demanding even down the phone & you obey. You open the drawer & there is a bottle of champagne.

“Max”

“Take it home when you leave, enjoy it tonight, you deserve it baby” & then the phone clicks off, he’s hung up. Your stood there speechless & also very concerned you’ve just drugged the office with heart shaped chocolates. Well technically your boss has, your boyfriend has.

After the most relaxed Friday anyone has ever imagined, you go back to your apartment. Another bunch of red roses are waiting for you with a smaller box of chocolate & the note on the card says, “order a take away on me beautiful MPx” you blush & take them inside. After setting the roses in a vase & placing the smaller chocolate box on your kitchen counter, you flop onto the couch, phone in hand. Ready to let Max know what he might be coming back to at work next week.

“You do realise I am never trusting any food from you again, right?” His reply is instant.

“Oh, come on, darling. Didn’t you have the best Friday of your life?”

“You drugged an entire office.”

“Lightly. They’ll be fine. No complaints, right”You pause. He’s right. No one seemed upset. In fact, people left work happier than they ever have on a Friday. It was as if all the tension that usually hung in the air had dissolved. Still, you weren’t about to let him get off that easy.

“You’re a menace.”

“& yet, I’m your menace & you love me.”

You groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table at his reply. He’s insufferable, smug & unfortunately, he’s right.

Your stomach rumbles, bringing your attention to the takeout menu you’ve grabbed, you know it doesn’t go well but a burger & champagne sounds good. As you place your order, your thoughts drift back to Max’s little surprise. The chocolates. The way they made you feel. That warm, floaty sensation still lingers in your veins, but now it’s mixed with anticipation. Because you know exactly what’s coming next. After all, he’s not the type to leave things at just chocolates & flowers.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates again.

“Enjoy your dinner, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you soon”

Your breath catches. Max isn’t meant to get back until really late tonight. Is this all just a game to him? Playing with your emotions or is it just the heart shaped chocolates playing with your mind.

What you have no idea is that Max was never working away today, he’s been following you. He had been away for the rest of the week but he got back to his place last night. He watched you get the gifts on each occasion including putting a couple of mind control tricks on you, a little one every now & then doesn’t effect you, he even snuck into work to see how the chocolates were going down. He’s been watching you from outside your apartment feeling your aura, ready to strike at the moment you are most care free & relaxed. He wants a special Valentine’s Day himself. He wants you, & he knows by making you so calm & relaxed there is a huge chance you will let him drink from you when you have sex. He will need no mind controls tonight.

When you’ve finished eating & you pour another large glass of fizz, you hear a soft knock at your actual apartment door. Not the buzzer or the intercom. It’s deliberate & sends a shiver of both nervousness & delight down your spine. It has to be him. You slowly make your way to the door, is it nerves, fear, anticipation, lust, desire or all of the above that’s making your heart pound inside you? You can feel the tension as you unlock the door.

Max always has the devil in his eyes being a vampire but tonight it’s glowing. There’s an extra glint shining bright in those eyes. He knows he’s been naughty but he can’t contain his enjoyment of his teases through the day. He’s dressed to the nines as always spotless, the tie in his sleek jacket pocket, you can see the red poking out. Trousers that if he thrust, would show you which side he was dressing today. He’s smirking the only way he can.

“Surprise” he says cockily. You roll your eyes & tut in a sarcastic way. You step aside & he bows before entering. It’s a vampire thing.

“How was the late stay for the work thing?” You ask but you already deep down know he’s been spying on you. Something in your mind is telling you this.

“Erm about that” you sigh”oooh come on I wanted to have fun & you clearly have had enough of it, & I had to know if you really were enjoying yourself.”

“How often do you watch me max” not just a question for today but just in general.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to, I’ve set my own boundaries. Trust me I could stand at the end of your bed all night watching you sleep & you’d have no idea”

“What” you say shocked.

“Joking” he says putting his hands up apologetically, but there’s something about he smirk that makes you think maybe he sometimes does. He then takes your left hand & kisses it. You blush crimson.”you know your better than any drug or blood to me”

Just being with each other intoxicates you both. No more mind games are needed tonight, no more alcohol or chocolates to let yourself go. Your combined auras are making the sexual tension so thick. As you rest a hand on him your certain even though you know it cant be that you can feel his pulse quicken.

“Max i…”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, his lips crash into yours, stealing your breath easing your soul, igniting the fire within your bones. He’s possessive as he pulls you into him. He knows you’re his in every way but that doesn’t stop him wanting to claim every last inch of you. You’d willingly be this man’s last meal if he asked you, his scent, his touch, his body, his mouth & those eyes that are are usually so soft now primal & wild, they all belong your man. No one else’s he’s yours.

His mouth leavers your lips, to your jaw, to your neck, to your throat, to where he likes to sip. He’s a man possessed. Too much to feast on. On such a beauty as you. He knows he should ask, he also knows he could use a mind trick but he wants you to willingly bring it up. The thing he wants most. His tongue flicks against the usual puncture holes, the teeth grazing, those prestige fangs starting to form. He lets out a small growl, it vibrates through your body.

“I want you”

“I know max”

“No I really want you in every way”

Your body melts & you moan as he softly starts to nip. It’s not painful anymore it’s arousing.

“Yes” you whimper.

“Sorry” he says & lifts his head

“ I said yes, take me to bed before I change my mind” you say & he lifts his head.

“Only if your sure darling & you must say black if it’s too much”

“Max i trust you with my life”

That’s all Max needs to hear.

Vampiric power is extraordinary in so many ways. In a flash he’s scooped you into his arms & carried you to your bedroom. You body feels like it’s falling in slow motion. In the time it takes you to get your jewellery off he’s gone & got some towels & a bottle of water & a few other supplies, incase things go wrong, although he keeps promising it never would, that he’d never hurt you, that it would make sex so much more enjoyable.

You’re excited as you both undress each other. You’re always excited for sex with max, but today it’s different. You’ve been drank before & after sex but never during it. This is a special treat & one that you know, now that you’ve opened Pandora’s box, he will expect more regularly.

After peeling away your clothes Max kisses every single inch of your skin. So full of life, so beautiful. He makes him more of a creature of a night than ever before. He’s savouring each kiss & touch. You moan as he sucks on your clit for a few minutes, your hands going into his hair. Your hips already rolling pushing his face further into your pleasure, as h gets you going.

“Fuck max”

“Don’t cum already baby” he giggles before his fangs then graze your nipples. He then pauses. He knows once he sinks his fangs into you & his penis, he will turn into an animal.

“Last chance darling” he says hopeful you still consent. Slight restraint in his voice. You pull him up so he can be near his usual drinking spot. Your hand traces over this jaw.

“I’m all yours max, in every way, yes I want this”

“Remember black” he says. He then very unromantic hits a timer next to your bed of 10mins, the longest the knows he can drink without doing any damage. You moan as he penetrates you slowly, filling up your cunt as he kisses you deeply. “I promise you will want this every night” he then licks down your throat, his hips slowly thrusting, you aren’t gripping the bedding yet but you can’t stop moaning already.

Finally his mouth as back at his supply. He sighs, licks & then softly sinks his fangs into your flesh. You’re gripping the bedding now.

Pleasure ripples through your body. You’ve never felt this high, you’ve never felt this happy. Sharp, hot, intoxicating, sexy, ritualistic. Your body arches as you moan pushing him into the air with you before you come back down onto the bed. It’s almost an out of body experience. Your own nails dig into Max to hold him in place, his growling & thrusts making each contraction of your cunt around his penis invigorating like you’ve been born again.

This isn’t just a drink, this isn’t just sex, this isn’t just a vampire & his partner being intimate, this is sacred. Each thrust sets off fireworks, each slurp has you both seeing stars. It’s binding you together in a moment of bliss.

Bzzzzz

The alarm goes off & Max to his word slowly removes his fangs from your neck, drops of blood fall onto where he drinks, your blood & his venom to seal the wound.

“Fuck baby” he snarls & then he picks his pace up. Those 10 minutes flew by, but the ferocity of both your orgasms makes you feel the same connection once again. Your body quivers in pleasure at your release. His face radiant & almost alive, from sweat blood & lust filled eyes.

“Perfect” he pants a few minutes later & lifts his head to look deeply into your eyes, moving a stray hair off your face. “How was it for you darling”

“indescribable”

“Is that good or bad?” You laugh at his response as your thumb traces over his lips. You suck your own blood off it.

“More” you say. Max looks shocked.

“M…more” Max is stunned his voice husky but it doesn’t take long for that smirk to return to his face. “darling do you have any idea what you just asked for” he murmurs as his hands cup your breasts & he slowly takes hold of you.

“Then show me Max” you challenge him.

“You greedy little thing” he says & he rolls back on top of you.

“Not really” you joke trying to lighten the mood as you get comfortable for round 2”I gave all of my chocolates away”Max laughs.

“Actually” he quickly leans over the top of his timer he had brought some chocolates upstairs with him. Those likely heart shaped chocolates which have caused all sorts of fun today. “Is one more gonna hurt” he says as he bites into his. He then feeds you the final chocolate. Your world exploding into colour once more. You tilt your head to the side.

“no it’s not baby”your practically vibrating with anticipation.

Slowly he pushes deep inside you, thrusting a few times watching your eyes glaze over from pleasure before he lowers his head to your neck.

Tension simmered beneath the surface of every mission between the two of you, a fact that hadn't escaped the notice of the other members of The Heroics. Their knowing smirks and subtle nudges were impossible to miss, though you did your best to pretend otherwise whenever you found yourself squaring up to him.

Today, the team had been assigned to handle a high-profile mission: protecting a Senator at a press conference in a heavily secured building. As usual, Marcus took charge of ground operations with his military precision. You, being devoid of superpowers, had been assigned to your usual role of providing backup, coordinating from behind the scenes—no weapons, no combat—just your sharp mind and the ability to read the situation faster than anyone else.

The event was supposed to be secure with your teammates stationed strategically in the building and the Senator's own security team securing the perimeter, but within moments of the press conference starting, things took a turn. In the build up to the conference, there had been intelligence chatter swirling around and there was a real and distinct possibility that the underground extremist group, The Shadowspire Directive would disrupt proceedings. 

As a result, there was a great deal of nervous tension within the team to ensure the Senator and the gathered press collective were kept safe. Any suggestion that The Heroics had made to cancel proceedings had been met with a negative reaction. Now it was down to the team to intercept any direct threats and avert potential problems.

Watching the live video feeds from your position two floors above the conference hall, you had good visuals on all of The Heroics and the Senator—everything seemed to be in order. Maybe it was too perfect? Your instincts prickled as you watched the whilst the Senator had his make up touched up and re-read his script. 

As soon as the conference began and the Senator began to speak, your gut feeling was correct—the building was plunged into darkness, the teams’ comms were reduced to static, and the screens in front of you blinked off. External alarms started blaring. Panic spread quickly and chaos erupted. 

Working quickly, you moved to turn on the backup generator and switched to secondary support. Your comms crackled to life on the emergency backup line.

"Team, I need backup now!" Marcus’s voice came through, his tone calm but filled with urgency. "There's a breach at the east wing, and we can't get to the Senator in time. We need eyes on the ground."

"I’m on it," you responded without hesitation, gathering your gear. You didn’t need to be told twice. You trusted your instincts over orders and could already feel the chaos in the air. It was time to get to work.

Adrenaline surged through your veins as you sprinted from your station through the sprawling building. You navigated through the labyrinth of corridors losing track and doubling back on your efforts, due to the limited visibility. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid tang of burning wires. You could hear Marcus’ orders echoing faintly in the distance and knew you were heading in the right direction. The controlled precision in his voice was a stark contrast to the disarray that was happening around you.

You rounded a corner and froze.

There, standing in front of the only open door to the east wing, was Marcus. He had his back to you, eyes fixed on a hallway filled with Shadowspire Directive operatives. His stance was coiled and his broad shoulders were tense. He was ready to fight. Plasma rifles glinted in the harsh fluorescent lighting as your opposition advanced, their footsteps echoing ominously.

The man exuded confidence and strength, and he was clearly unaware that you were watching him. You had always admired the way he never backed down—even when his fights were with you.

“Moreno, move!” you shouted, stepping forward.

His head snapped around, eyes widening as he spotted you. He clearly didn't expect to see you here. His hand immediately moved to the side, subtly preparing for action, his stance defensive. "What are you doing here?" His voice was gruff, but there was something else in his eyes—surprise. And maybe a little frustration.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Helping you and saving your ass. This is a highly secured building, and you thought you could handle the Syndicate with your usual 'by-the-book' tactics?"

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need-.”

You arched an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Right, because it's working out so well for you right now."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "I’ve got this covered."

"Sure you do." You took a step closer, scanning the area and noticing the approaching threat. “You can't fight with a stick up your ass and a rule book in your hand, you know.”

Marcus’s eyes flickered to the hallway again as several operatives stepped into view. His jaw flexed and for a moment you thought he was going to argue. "You’re right." He exhaled slowly. "But that doesn’t mean it’ll work with your methods."

A plasma bolt fizzed past your head grabbing your attention, forcing you into action.

You dove to the side, rolling behind a table as Marcus faced down the first intruders. He pulled his katana sabers from his back and began deflecting the plasma bolts with controlled precision and pinpoint accuracy, taking down a quick succession of operatives.

Unable to watch him fight alone, you reached out for a weapon from one of the fallen Syndicate members. Your actions were fast and unpredictable. Providing protection and cover for Marcus as he worked, you jumped the barricade to get closer to the action.

“Stay in formation!” Marcus shouted at you, ducking as a bolt scorched the wall behind him.

“Formation is overrated, Moreno,” you yelled back, sprinting down the hall to flank the attackers.

“Renegade-”

You could feel the familiar tension building in a relationship that was a constant clash of ideals, both of you convinced that your way was the better way.

"Guess you’re just going to have to trust me, then," you shot back, already moving toward the nearest operative.

"Fine. But don’t get in my way." His voice was tight, his hands moving swiftly into a combat-ready position.

The air between the two of you was electric as the two of you worked in tandem, fending off operatives. There was no time for petty arguments now. Everything else melted away as the adrenaline kicked in, and the focus shifted to keeping everyone safe.

Two soldiers broke free from the group and charged towards you, their weapons blazing. You ducked, narrowly avoiding another plasma bolt, launching into a spin kick that knocked one of them off balance. The other aimed at you, but before he could fire, Marcus’ blades flashed through the air, disarming him with clinical precision.

“You're welcome,” he muttered, barely missing a beat as he turned to engage another attacker.

“Cocky, much?” you replied, finding yourself momentarily standing back-to-back with him, both of you exchanging glances through the chaos. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe?

Before he could respond, a sudden deafening explosion rocked the building. Both of you were launched in separate directions by the force of the blast and soldiers flew through the air. The floor trembled beneath you as smoke and debris filled the air.

Dazed and disorientated, you pushed yourself upright, coughing at the dust and smoke that had lodged itself in your chest. 

“Marcus? Marcus?” you called hoarsely for your Heroics leader through the smoky-haze, your voice cracking. A deep fear settled in your chest as you surveyed the damage around you.

Silence weighed on you—heavy and suffocating.

Panic rose in your chest, tightening with every breath.

Before you could begin to scour the wreckage to search for him, a towering figure emerged through the chaos, wearing sleek armour and carrying a weapon you had never seen before. It hummed ominously.

“You think you can stop us?” he sneered. “You are pawns in a game that you don't understand.”

You snorted, wiping a trickle of blood from your nose. “Funny. I like to think of myself as more of a queen,” you shot back, shifting into a defensive stance.

Before he could respond, a welcome sight appeared from the rubble—blades drawn, eyes sharp. A palpable relief flooded through you as your deepest fears were unfounded. Marcus was alive—bloodied and bruised, but alive. 

He met your gaze and in that split second, you understood. Marcus was ready for the fight. But there was something else in his eyes-something unspoken, something deeper.

“You talk too much,” Marcus said coldly, his focus locked back onto the enemy, as he began advancing towards him. His dusty shirt was pulled taut over his tense shoulders and his forearm muscles rippled with unbridled anger. He was a sight to behold.

The fight that followed was pure chaos. The plasma cannon lit up the hallway with blinding bursts of energy, forcing you and Marcus to work together seamlessly. Whilst you distracted him with your unpredictable evasive maneuvers, Marcus pressed forwards with a preciseness and relentlessness that you couldn't help but admire.

As Marcus began his next assault, your enemy pointed his cannon in his direction and you seized the opportunity. Launching yourself with little warning, you tackled him from behind. The surprise of your attack knocked the weapon from his hands and it clattered to the floor, allowing Marcus the opportunity to strike. He lunged forwards, his blades pressed against the enemy's throat. 

“Call them off,” Marcus growled, his voice dangerously low.

A brief moment of hesitation followed before your enemy signaled to his remaining operatives to retreat, straight into the hands of the arriving security services.

As you watched them leave, you both stood panting, a moment of uneasy silence passing between you. The mission had been dangerously close, but it was clear that you'd both worked well together despite the friction. Marcus was the first to break the silence, his voice gruff but edged with something softer now.

"Not bad," he muttered, his gaze lingering on you. "For someone who doesn’t follow orders."

You raised an eyebrow, “You know, you could learn a thing or two from someone like me. Flexibility is key.”

"Flexibility?" Marcus scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "That’s why you get yourself into trouble, Renegade. You take risks that don’t always pay off."

"And you don’t take enough," you retorted, stepping closer. "Sometimes, you have to think outside the rulebook, Marcus."

There was a brief, charged silence as your eyes met. The usual animosity between you two simmered beneath the surface, but it wasn’t as sharp as before.

"I’ll take risks when they’re calculated." Marcus’s voice was almost a husky growl now.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you have to throw the calculator away."

You were close now—too close for comfort. The tension between you, the shared adrenaline from the fight, was making your heart race in a way that wasn’t entirely due to the battle. You hadn’t expected it. But as you stood there, inches apart, you couldn’t deny the sudden pull between you.

Marcus cleared his throat, his expression softening ever so slightly, his eyes lingering on your lips before quickly darting back to your eyes. "You’re impossible," he muttered, though his voice wasn’t filled with anger anymore. It was something else—something more uncertain.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice lower now, the distance between you narrowing just a little bit more. "But even you have to admit, we make a good team."

For the first time, Marcus didn’t immediately push back. Instead, he hesitated.

"Maybe," he said quietly. "Maybe you’re right." 

It was late, the team having wrapped up another exhausting mission. The debrief was done and injuries had been tended to. Everyone else had scattered to their quarters or left for some downtime, but you and Marcus remained, sitting in the quiet of the common area at The Heroics’ headquarters. Neither of you were ready to leave yet—not when there was so much left unsaid between you. The usual noise had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the building’s ventilation system.

You were sitting across from him, nursing a drink, while Marcus stared into his own, the glass swirling the amber liquid between his fingers. The exhaustion from the mission hung heavy in the air, but since the fight earlier, you sensed that there was a new tension between the two of you, something unspoken but undeniable. The walls between you were crumbling, and in their place was something more fragile, more human.

There was a moment of silence as you both avoided looking at each other directly. You could feel the weight of his presence, the way he seemed to draw you in, even in his quiet moments. Something about this side of him, the vulnerability that he only let slip in rare moments like these, was more captivating than any of the walls he put up.

Finally, Marcus spoke, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Letting go is difficult. I'm a leader. I'm a father. People look to me. I need to set a good example.” He wasn’t talking about the mission—he was talking about everything. About the way you challenged him, about the way you refused to play by his rules. "You know... you don’t make it easy, do you?" 

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I make it easy for everyone except you, huh?"

His lips curled into a wry smile, but there was no heat in his usual irritation. "You know what I mean." His tone softened, and you saw something flicker in his eyes—a mix of exhaustion and sincerity. "You get under my skin in ways I don’t know how to handle."

It was hard to explain, but there it was again—the pull. That quiet, undeniable chemistry that now simmered between you both. You wanted to push him, to tease him, but something about this moment felt different. It was just the two of you now, no distractions.

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Is that a bad thing?"

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. "I don’t know anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m used to being in control, and you make me lose that."

A lump formed in your throat at his admission. This wasn’t the Marcus you had been used to—this was the man beneath the layers, raw and unguarded. It was a side of him you had never expected to see.

Slowly, you set your drink down, taking a step closer. "Maybe losing control isn’t as terrifying as you think." You paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Maybe you need it to happen with someone you trust. Someone who's got your back."

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But the tension between you thickened, and you could feel your pulse racing, the space between you growing smaller. It was no longer about who was right and who was wrong. It was about something deeper, something that neither of you had been able to put a label on before.

Marcus let out a breath, as if gathering his thoughts. Then, in one fluid movement, he reached out and gently took your hand, his fingers warm against yours. His thumb traced the back of your hand in a slow, almost tentative motion.

"You really don’t know how to play it safe, do you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place.

"Safe isn’t always the answer," you replied, your breath hitching slightly as you met his gaze.

There was a pause, and in that space, everything seemed to shift. “You're going to be the death of me,” he mused, though the words lacked their usual exasperation. All the frustration, the tension, the rivalry—it melted away, leaving just the two of you. The way he held your hand, the way his gaze softened, it felt like something new was beginning to form.

You let out a breath laugh, your fingers curling slightly around his. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

His lips quirked into a small smile before his expression grew serious again. “I don’t do this lightly,” he admitted. “I can't afford to.”

Neither could you.

Without another word, Marcus leaned in. His lips brushed against yours lightly at first, almost testing, tentative. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving from yours to gently cup the side of your face. The touch was careful, as if he was still unsure of how far he could push.

But you weren’t pulling away. In fact, you leaned into the kiss, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. All the unspoken words, the underlying attraction, the tension from the countless missions—it all poured into that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your forehead rested against his. The room was silent except for the sound of your shared breaths.

"Are you sure about this?" Marcus asked, his voice a whisper, his thumb gently grazing your cheek.

You smiled softly, your heart racing, but this time not from fear or doubt—just pure clarity. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

His gaze softened, his hand caressing your jaw before he kissed you again, deeper this time, with all the things that had been left unsaid. The walls between you both were completely gone now, and you both found yourselves in a space where it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

As the kiss deepened, you realized that the rivalry, the challenges, the mission—it had all led to this. The connection, the intimacy that had grown between you and Marcus over time, was now undeniable. 

The next morning, you woke to find Marcus already awake, sitting on the balcony of your apartment with a cup of coffee in hand. The early morning light bathed the room in a soft glow, and for a moment, you just watched him. His posture was relaxed, a rare sight after so many missions filled with tension, but it was the quiet peace in his expression that caught you off guard.

Climbing sleepily out of bed and tying up your dressing gown, you moved across the room to be close to him once more.

He turned to look at you, sensing your presence. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know where this is going,” he admitted, his voice lower and thoughtful. “But for once, I don't think I need to have all the answers.”

Taking the seat beside him, your hand slipped into his. You smiled against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. “That makes two of us.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really do make my life complicated."

"And yet, here you are."

"Yeah," he murmured with a smile. "Here I am.”

Marcus let out a slow breath, his thumb tracing idle patterns against the back of your hand. There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was agreeable, a shared understanding that you were in this together, whatever “this” was.

As you both watched the sun rise, you rested your head on Marcus’ shoulder and he responded with a tender kiss on the top of your head—a quiet, unspoken reassurance. 

Maybe, despite the clashes, the stubbornness, the constant push and pull, you and Marcus blended together in a way that neither of you had expected.

I also made a mood board a few weeks ago for inspiration.

It’s not that I need to find people love in time for Valentine’s Day. It’s just that there are so many lonely hearts crying out for love, louder and louder as we near the day. It’s impossible to ignore.

The recent heartbreaks are always the easiest to spot, but I don’t go after those. They need a little time. My bow and arrow can only point a lonely heart in the right direction. I’ve learned from experience that a heart still raw can’t be moved before it’s ready.

I look for the hearts that have mended but are still scarred. Take this guy, for instance. Waiting in line at coffee shop, the saddest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He smiles so sweetly at the barista. Asks her how she’s doing before he places his order. She’s been here since 6am, she’s not interested in his pleasantries. But the woman who just walked in to order her double espresso, she will be. With the a little nudge from one of my arrows.

We don’t rock an actual bow and arrow anymore. Long gone are the times when that particular paraphernalia blended in. We’re a bit more subtle now (though I do have a cousin who loves to hang out at Renaissance Fairs just so she can blend in with her tried and true bow). I opt for a more modern take. Watch a master at work.

“I have an order for Marcus?”

The man hops up from the nearby table he was waiting at.

“That’s me.”

Slender build in a just too large gray suit, clearly off-the-rack. Ironed white shirt and a dark blue tie, firmly knotted. Hair combed neatly to the side it brushes over his forehead but keeps clear of his eye, conscientiously trimmed. This is a man who measures twice and cuts once.

But not in this instance.

In this moment he grabs the coffee cup from the counter, thanks the barista who has moved on to the next drink and heads toward the door to start his day. He takes a quick sip. The bitter drink stops him mid step. He looks down at the cup. Scrawled on the side is a name. Not his name.

He walked back over to the counter. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the beverage that doesn't belong to him.

“I’m so sorry, I think I--”

“--Are you Marcus?”

The man by that name turns toward the voice.

High ponytail atop her head not quite tight enough to keep the shortest strands locked in place. Yoga pants and a zipped-up hoodie, a yoga mat strapped to her back. Her morning routine clear.

She is holding a cup of coffee in her hand, extended toward Marcus.

“I’m sorry, I think I grabbed your by mistake.”

Marcus looks back at the cup in his hand.

“That would make you Mimi?”

She smiles and Marcus feels compelled to smile back like the muscles in his face don’t need his permission. Maybe none of his body needs his permission because he finds himself taking a step closer to exchange cups.

“I’m sorry, I took a sip before I realized,” he says.

“So did I.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Neither do I.”

She watching him now, wondering what he’ll do next now that the coffees have been returned to their rightful owner. Her lower lip pulled between her teeth, a nervous habit, one her ex always told her made her look like a child. But Marcus is still smiling at her.

I watch the interaction from a table by the door. Hoping that the simple mix up I orchestrated is enough.

“I, um, I don’t want to make you late.” Marcus gestures to the yoga mat.

“Oh, I just left class. I like to get very zen in the morning and then promptly ruin it by over-caffeinating and going to work.”

Mimi’s lips press together. She’s over-sharing again. Something else her ex didn’t like.

Marcus laughs. “I’m actually running early. Do you want to sit?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. They’re followed by the memory of his ex telling him he’s too much, too fast.

But Mimi just nods her head quickly. The ponytail on top of her head bouncing with the movement.

I lean back in my chair as they sit down in their own. Another job well done. These two are destined for the alter, I can already tell. I almost leave. Almost. But my cupid wings tingle, so I hold my position.

“So, do you work near here?” Marcus asks.

Before Mimi can answer, Marcus’ cell phone rings. He looks down at the incoming call and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Just one moment.”

He stands and answers the call, walking a few feet away for privacy.

I scowl as he his face turns serious. It feels like one of the Fates is messing with me.  

Marcus returns to the table after he hangs up.

“I’m really sorry, I have to go take care of something at work. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Mimi answers.

With that Marcus is gone. And I need a plan B.

~~~

Okay, this time my set up is sure to work. The meet-cute in the coffee shop, not my most original work. But this will guarantee wedding bells.

Mimi sits behind a small table in the reading room at the National Gallery. Above her a sign reads “Meet the Author”. She doesn’t know why her publisher insists she does these events. She’s been here for two hours and only seven people had come over to speak with her. Of those, only three had even read her book.

She looks down at her watch again. She can leave in just a few minutes. In fact, shes sure that if she left now no one would care. Mimi’s problem is that she likes the rules. And the rules say she scheduled to be here until 4pm. Not 3:55.

When Marcus rounds the corner to enter the reading room he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’re Mimi Zong?”

Mimi looks up to find the dark brown eyes that have been haunting her daydreams.

“Hi! I mean, yeah, I am. How do you know who I am?”

Marcus tilts his head back with disbelief. “Are you kidding? The Fault in Renoir is one of my favorite books. Your theory that his color palette may have been influenced by rare type of color blindness helped me catch his most notorious forger.”

Marcus cannot believe that just a week ago he was sitting across from this woman at a coffee shop. Or that he spent the last week kicking himself for not asking for her number before he rushed off to the office.

“You did what? What do you do for a living?” Mimi’s delicate eyes go wide on Marcus.

Before he can answer there’s an impatient looking woman behind Mimi.

“Hey, we gotta go. You’re meeting with the Chancellor starts in five minutes, what are you still doing here?”

Mimi looks back, confused, at her assistant. When she looks down at her watch she’s shocked to see it’s almost 4:30.

Mimi jumps up. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I have to run.” With a wave she’s hurrying down the hallway and toward the exit.

I watch from a nearby table, a book obscuring my face. I slam the book down on the surface as I watch my perfectly arranged setup dissolve in front of me. Several patrons turn toward my commotion. I don’t care though. Now I know I’m being messed with.

~~~

I storm into the Fate’s cottage. Unlike most of us who have opted for more modern accommodations, the Fates insist on maintaining their rural lifestyle. Not a thing has changed here in the last five thousand years, probably more if I could remember that far back.

“What the fuck, ladies?”

Clotho doesn't even bother to look up from her wheel. Lachesis raises an eyebrow at my outburst but doesn’t say anything. Only Atropos deigns a response.

“Everything in good time, my dear.”

Of course. I don’t know what answer I was expecting. Not a god on this side of the milky way has gotten these ladies to change their minds.

“Why are you keeping my match apart. They’re perfect for each other, I know it.” Maybe I’m whining a little bit. But I know Marcus and Mimi belong together. I can feel it.

“Trust the threads, little cupid. Now run along. I know you are busy.” Atropos slices through a golden thread as she says this, letting the loose end fall to the floor.

Okay, warning received, loud and clear.

~~~

I’m following Marcus, studying his every move to plan my next attack. I mean match up. I watch him enter the crosswalk and pause to wait for the light. As the “walk” sign flashes green he begins to cross, looking back down at his phone. He doesn’t see the bus run the red light.

“Marcus!”

He stops at the sound of his name and turns back to see Mimi waving at him and hurrying down the sidewalk in his direction. A rush of air from the bus blows past him. It ruffles his suit and throws him off balance. He watches as it barrels down the road past him. His heart beat quickens in his chest. A feeling he can’t quite describe like he was on the edge of a cliff looking over and someone pulled him back just before vertigo took hold.

“Mimi, I’m so happy to see you,” he says as he shakes off the feeling.

He closes the gap between them and a notion takes hold.

“Yeah me too, I --”

Marcus doesn’t let her finish. “Would you join me for dinner tonight? On a date, I mean.”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” she says.

I lean against the brick building and watch them exchange numbers and make plans. Already I can see the tendrils of love winding around them.