#I haven’t even consumed drugs or alcohol

[gentleman-detective]

I recently moved out to the middle of nowhere, and not only have I made it my entire personality, but I’ve also benefited from lots of time without internet or cell service. you think this would make me productive but unfortunately I only have thoughts about sherlock holmes. I’m out here with theories and shit like I’m sherlockrates.

[kedsandtubesocks]

you, my golden hour

Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader

summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi

word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)

a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡

You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.

Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.

By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.

Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.

When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.

While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.

Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.

“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”

“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.

“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.

Oh.

“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.

You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.

Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.

It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.

Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.

Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.

Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.

Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.

“It’s good to see you, mija.”

You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.

His son on the other hand…

You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your orbit, a figure almost out of reach.

“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.

“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.

The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.

Now before you he’s a fully grown man.

For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.

Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.

Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.

His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.

The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.

He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.

He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.

But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.

His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

So, he does remember you.

“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.

“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.

A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.

“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”

You grin small and tight in agreement.

“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.

Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.

The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.

And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

You even exhale relieved.

“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.

As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.

“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.

“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.

Your grandfather now calls out to you.

Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.

“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.

Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.

“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”

You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.

“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.

“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.

“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you

Stubborn old man.

“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”

Shit.

“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.

“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.

Damn.

The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.

Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.

“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.

“Yup.” You nod.

“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.

But silence returns.

“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.

You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.

“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”

It’s been two years since you’ve been home.

“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.

“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”

He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.

You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.

“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.

Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.

He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.

“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.

Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.

You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.

“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.

After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.

A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.

“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.

“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.

It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.

When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.

You’re already panicking.

“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.

Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.

Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”

The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.

“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”

Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.

“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.

A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.

The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.

Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.

Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.

Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.

“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”

Your heart now skips over itself.

Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.

You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.

Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.

“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”

His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.

“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.

“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.

“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.

“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”

“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.

Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.

But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.

And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.

-

The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.

You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.

“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.

Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.

“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.

“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”

Javier snorts at your reply.

Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.

“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.

“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.

Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.

“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.

“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”

You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.

“Okay, coach.”

Now you contemplate just shoving him away.

But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.

After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.

“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.

“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.

You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.

Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.

“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.

Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.

“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.

Javier curses under his breath.

“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.

“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”

“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.

You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.

“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.

But it hits you.

He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…

Little Bandit.

The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.

The rest of the month follows this same routine.

On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.

No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.

During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.

The greetings and thanks are always the same.

“Thanks, Peña.”

“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.

You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.

At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.

This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.

Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.

He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.

Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.

You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.

Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.

His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.

“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.

Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.

“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.

Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.

“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.

You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.

In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.

He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.

Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.

Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.

It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.

During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.

You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.

Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.

The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.

He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.

One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.

Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.

“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.

“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.

Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.

The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.

“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.

His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…

Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.

From a distance, your sister yells out for you.

“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.

You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.

Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.

You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.

When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.

Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.

In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.

-

The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.

“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.

He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.

Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.

You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.

“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.

That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.

“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.

“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”

Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.

“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.

It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.

You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.

“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”

You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.

But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.

“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.

“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.

“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.

You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.

Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.

“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.

“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”

You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.

“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.

From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.

“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.

“Doesn't feel like it.”

You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.

“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”

You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.

You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.

You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.

He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.

You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.

You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.

“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.

“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”

“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.

“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.

His eyes soften and your heat bursts.

“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.

“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.

“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.

You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”

Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.

“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.

Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.

Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.

You can’t even deny that anymore.

“Thanks, Javi.”

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.

Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.

The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.

“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.

Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.

The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.

“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.

“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.

“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.

Javi hasn’t come back yet.

Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.

Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.

You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.

The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.

“Thanks bandita.”

You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.

Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.

The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.

He’s also heavily breathing too.

Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.

The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.

You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.

It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.

“Aye!”

Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.

Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.

“You kids okay?” He calls out.

Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.

“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.

You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.

Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.

Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?

You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.

“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.

You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.

Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.

-

The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.

By Saturday night the storm settles down.

Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.

“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.

It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.

As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.

Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.

“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.

You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.

“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.

“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.

“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.

“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.

“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.

“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.

“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.

You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.

“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.

Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.

Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.

Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.

Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.

The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.

That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.

“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.

“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.

You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.

So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.

“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.

Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.

David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.

“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.

Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.

The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.

The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.

You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.

But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.

“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.

You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.

Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.

“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.

He politely but cautiously greets her back.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.

“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.

“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.

As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.

“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.

“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”

She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.

But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.

Javier however speaks first and fast.

“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.

Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.

“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”

Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.

The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.

“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.

You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.

“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.

“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”

Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.

David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.

You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.

“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.

You shrug.

“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”

You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.

Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.

Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”

You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.

“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.

“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.

Now your hand squeezes his.

His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.

Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.

“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”

She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.

“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.

“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.

“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”

“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.

Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.

“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.

It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.

Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.

Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.

David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.

The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.

You snort.

“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.

You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.

“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.

“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.

“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.

“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”

“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”

They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.

“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.

“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.

Now you’re the one snapping back at him.

“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.

“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”

He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.

Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.

Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.

The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.

You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.

A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.

The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.

You sigh relaxed.

That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.

Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.

“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.

“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.

Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.

“Hey, you okay?!”

You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.

“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.

You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.

It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.

You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.

And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.

For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.

You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.

Someone says your name cautiously.

Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.

Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.

“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.

“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.

You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.

“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.

“Querida…”

Darling…he’s never called you that.

“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.

He really is so good, too good.

“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.

You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.

“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”

His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.

“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”

Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.

All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.

Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.

“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.

Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.

“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.

“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.

“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.

Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.

Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.

You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.

Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.

It’s all encompassing.

Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.

His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.

Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.

His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.

“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.

Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.

A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.

A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.

A few more large obvious water drops come.

You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.

Then the rain arrives.

“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.

Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.

Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.

And it’s beautiful.

-

“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.

He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.

Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.

You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.

Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.

Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.

Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.

His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.

Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.

The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.

“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.

“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.

You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.

“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.

“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.

No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.

Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.

“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”

You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.

“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”

Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.

“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”

Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.

“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.

You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.

In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.

In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.

“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.

His face scrunches up more.

“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.

“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.

“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.

“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.

“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.

Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.

“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.

You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.

With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.

You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.

Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.

Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.

Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.

“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.

You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”

She simply shrugs.

The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.

“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.

“About what?” You smirk.

“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”

Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.

“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.

“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”

Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.

“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”

Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.

“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.

Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.

“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.

You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.

Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.

Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.

You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.

Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.

With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.

Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.

Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.

It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.

One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.

It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.

You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.

Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.

Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.

He breathes out your name.

Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.

You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.

“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.

He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.

“You’re amazing, bandita.”

You weakly laugh thanking him.

“Does that mean-”

“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.

“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.

Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.

“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”

You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.

The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.

He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.

“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.

You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.

“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.

He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.

There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.

A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.

And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.

[ponderingmoonlight]

I wonder, could we request 2 prompts? Cause I had an idea where Gojo with prompt 11, how about Gojo confronting us after the whole “ Getou calling us a monkey and trying to kill us indecent” and out here searching high and low for him, driving out our physical health and mental health is decreasing. We get into an argument with him until we breakdown then prompt 66 comes in and Gojo comforts us and stays with us ( hurt with comfort is my guilty pleasure)

Oh I absolutely adore this idea, let’s do this! Let me know what you think 🖤 11. "You're not fine. You need to rest."

66. "Time for bed. Come on."

You saved me

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader; former!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 2k

Synopsis: After your former boyfriend Suguru tried to kill you for being a non-jujutsu sorcerer, you fall into a deep depression. Satoru tries to reach out and help you through it, but you refuse to let him near you. Until he takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: death, language, hurt, depression, abuse of drugs/alcohol

“He’s dead, (y/n). There was no choice but to take his life. Even Suguru wasn’t strong enough to outstand Yuta. Shoko said she’ll be able to stitch you up completely and that you’ll be healthy again. I’ll meet up with you tomorrow, okay?”

You sign and take another sip of the scorching whiskey in front of you. What time is it? You don’t know. To be honest you lost track of time long ago. After Suguru, your boyfriend of more than five years, called you a monkey and almost killed you for being a non-jujutsu sorcerer, you quit your job and moved further away. With some strip shows here and there you can just keep your head above water – it’s enough to pay for alcohol and your worn-down apartment at least.

That dreadful day changed you completely. You no longer wear a loving smile on your lips, your sundresses lie in the garbage as well as your dignity. You let your hair grow out and dyed it a completely different colour. At this point your curves are completely gone, eaten up by alcohol and lack of sleep. Your tired eyes are sunken and always adorned by dark circles. If you were seen on the street, not even Satoru would be able to recognize you anymore.

Satoru…You haven’t checked in with him since Shoko stitched you up over a year ago. Not that he didn’t try to talk to you. To this day he calls you multiple times a week and sends you countless messages, asking where you are and how you’ve been. You can tell that he’s truly worried about you, but you simply can’t let him see you like this, all worn down and consumed by grief.

The alcohol sometimes made you forget your own name, some nights even his. Your pain swallowed you after you realized that your whole life was a lie, that Suguru did in fact not care about you at all. Satoru just reminds you of your past, the agony you are so eagerly trying to forget. And that’s why you’re sitting here, inside an empty bar late at night with the 10th drink in your hand, head already completely numb and tired eyes covered by a pair of cheap sunglasses.

“Rough day, huh?”

You down the whole whiskey glass and order a new one without looking at the stranger that seems to talk to you.

“Rough life”, you comment dryly.

“So rough that you’re not even recognizing me.”

Your gaze shoots up, mind barely able to process what he’s saying. But this white hair you’d still recognize from miles away.

“How did you find me, Satoru?”

The wounds you hid so well over the past couple of days rip open immediately at his sight. He looks as good as usual, hair a little less fluffy than a year ago. But the bright smile he wears on his lips seems to stay the same no matter how old he his. Yes, it seems like he was able to move on and live his life – how good for him.

“You hid so well that it took me some time. And because you haven’t given any sign of life for a year, I thought I’d just stop by, y’know”, he declares casually.

“Maybe, just maybe I didn’t answer because I didn’t wanna be found by you. I’m fine, no need to worry”, you mutter, gaze glued to the dirty table.

“You’re not fine. You need to rest, (y/n).”

The sound of his voice is so unknown serious that you can’t help but stare at him. Satoru’s facial expression changed completely, cheeky grin gone with the wind. You can see his blue orbs staring at you through the shade of his sunglasses, inspecting you precisely. Did he really just come here to tell you to rest? How fucking stupid.

“What the hell are you talking about? I was just minding my own business when you came around after one year, only to tell me that I look like shit? Guess what Satoru, I don’t need your fucking help. Leave me alone.��

His presence robs you the air to breath. You jump up, throw two bills on the counter and stumble to the exit. The fresh air of the night hits you like a wall and makes it hard to inhale for a moment. Who does this fucker think he is to tell you what to do? You did just fine before he came along and now you’re feeling like crap all over again.

“(y/n), don’t run away from me. I’m faster anyway!”

“Just stop following me, idiot!”

“Don’t run away, then! Stop acting like a brat!”

Your limbs begin to shake in nothing but thick fury, mind clouded by alcohol and drugs.

“I don’t want you near me, Satoru!”, you cry out.

The ground underneath your feet seems to shake, you fall onto the wet street like a sack of rice. Your gut begins to turn uncomfortably, that feeling is way too familiar for you. Before you are able to tie your hair into a ponytail, the liquid of today leaves you in a gush and spills onto the tarmac.

“Gosh, I would love to take a picture of you now. But that’s actually not funny anymore.”

Satoru’s hand wraps around your hair and hold them up while his other arm prevents you from falling over into your own vomit. Tears pool your eyes, throat burning all over from the liqueur. It’s been a while since you had to puke because of alcohol, not the best feeling to be honest. You sob to yourself silently, body shaking like an earthquake from retching dryly.

“Someday I will drink enough to forget his name”, you choke out, arms trembling from the cold and exhaustion.

“You will never drink enough to forget him. Trust me, I tried.”

You wipe your mouth unladylike and sit up, world around you still twisting and turning.

“You’re not the only one who lost someone that night. He was my best friend, the only one I’ve ever had (y/n). It broke me to let him go. But what pains me even more is that you let yourself go this critically, completely lost in your grief and cut off contact with me, just like that. I am your friend too, (y/n). We could have gotten through this together. Instead, you chose to stay high and drunk to keep him off your mind. Let me tell you that sooner or later, past will catch up with you. No drug in the world will make you forget the feelings you’ve had for him.”

The way Satoru’s voice breaks makes you stare up at him with tears swelling up your eyes. To be honest, you never thought about Satoru’s feelings in all of this. Guilty conscience creeps up your spine and takes your breath away. Fuck, why do his words have to make so much sense?

“Why would you want to keep in touch with me? Maybe Suguru is right. Maybe I am nothing more than a monkey after all. And a bad friend on top”, you breathe out.

Satoru can’t believe his ears. Do you really think that you are worth less because you are a non-jujutsu sorcerer?

“(y/n), don’t you dare even thinking about that being true. Suguru was so wrong for all of this. And I get why you’re trying to forget him. Just let me help you getting through this, yeah? Let’s be there for each other.”

He stretches out his hand in front of you, a warm smile caressing his lips.

“Why would you try to help be after I left you alone?”

He may be fucking stupid and unserious from time to time, but Satoru has a heart of gold. Maybe the abused doesn’t necessarily have to become the abuser.

“Why? Because we’re friends, dumbass.”

A smile laugh escapes your lips, hands frantically washing away your salty tears. Oh, Satoru. Where would you be without him and his constant support? Probably dead, crushed under Suguru’s curse. And today? Sooner or later you’d probably kill yourself with alcohol and drugs.

You lay your shaky hand into his. With a swift motion, he lifts you up and embraces you into a tight hug. God, it feels so good to be finally held again. Maybe this is what you needed after rejecting any physical affection from other people for more than 10 years for Suguru’s sake. He smells so good, fresh like a morning in summer. And the heat of his body stops your delicate frame from shaking uncontrollably. Tears run down your cheek like a waterfall, soaking into his uniform in an instant. Satoru just stands there, arms tightly wrapped around you and his head laid on top of yours.

Something inside you snaps. You cry out in pain and grief, sobbing against his chest while he stays silent and lets you have your moment of sorrow. It must have been hard for you to deal with all of this shit alone, everything and everyone reminding you of Suguru. But Satoru is all the more pleased that you are finally allowing your feelings and that you can find comfort in his arms. Slowly but surely your sobbing gets softer and your body stops shaking. Hopefully you feel better now.

“You look tired. Do you live far away from here?”, he requests when you stayed silent for a few minutes.

“Just around the corner. You don’t have to stay though, looks pretty shabby.”

“Like you, that doesn’t stop me though. Time for bed, come on.”

Half an hour later he lays by your side, your body showered for the first time in a while and covered by his way too big t-shirt. Satoru’s arm casually hangs around your shoulder, gaze fixed on the ceiling above. Even in darkness his eyes shine like diamonds - absolutely mesmerizing. It feels so good to be finally held again, to not be alone with your depressing thoughts late at night.

“Why didn’t you just give up on me?”

“How could I do that? You are an absolute sunshine. I owe you so many moments of joy, laughter and good memories. I would rather die than give you up, especially when you need me. Jujutsu sorcerer or not, the world would be a so much worse place without a ray of sunshine like you on it.”

You burry your head in his chest when a new wave of tears threatens to overcome you. What a nice human he is. Despite everything you both been through, after all the pain he had to endure, the affection he holds for you in his eyes is the same as 10 years ago. He will after look after you, be there when you need a shoulder to cry on, will catch you when you fall. It’s you and Satoru against the world with Suguru always in your grieving hearts.

“You saved me again, Satoru”, you whisper into the silence of the room.

“We saved each other, (y/n).”

You smile to yourself, head laying comfortable against his chest. Maybe everything will be alright and you’ll be able to get over the trauma of the last years. Not today, but with Satoru’s help you to eventually get over it.

It just takes time.

[toomanytookas]

The Gift

Dieter Bravo x f!afab!reader

Rating: 18+ only please

Summary: Dieter designs a special room for you in the house that you are building together.

Important note: This is set in the world of @schnarfer’s If Wishes Came True trilogy. If you haven’t read it (where have you been? Go! Read it!!) you will likely be a bit lost.

Word count: ~3k

Content: Angst and fluff, the angst is pretty much all in the past but we do sit with it for a while here (this is dedicated to Al, after all), consumption of food and alcohol, references to/presence of drugs but they aren’t consumed on screen, oblique references to the reader and Dieter's sexual proclivities, blink and you’ll miss it moment of smutty touching, lots more sensual and casual touch as well as kissing, swearing, bathing, cats, I wrote this for one person but she’s invited you to the party

A/N: A version of this fic was gifted to my beloved @schnarfer on the occasion of her birthday last week. It would have never actually been possible for me to have the confidence to send it to her and not just throw it straight in the bin without the very gentle hand holding of @pascalssbabyy (Beth, you are an angel).

I say a version because after being the most gracious recipient of a fic of her fic (wtf was I thinking?), Al not only encouraged me to share it more widely but was willing to give it a beta and helped to refine my attempt at an ode to her style into the much punchier, emotionally charged (we do love torturing our boy a bit...) thing you now have the opportunity to read. This is absolutely the product of two minds and I could not have had more fun working with her to reach this final version. Any remaining errors and weird bits are my own, feel free to lmk if you see anything funky. I hope you like it!

I don't know what it is about you that makes the bathwater blush, why I want to ask for your hand forever around my throat;

- Megan Falley, "Your Bathwater > Wine"

When Dieter adopted Chairman Meow from the shelter, the sign on the tom’s cage said he had been wandering despondently around the property his last owner had vacated, unable to stray far from the place where he had last known a comfortable life. Abandonment issues, the profile warned. Looking for a home that will provide constant affection.

Having been driven to the cattery by a deep yearning to be the centre of someone’s world, Dieter thought he recognised a kindred spirit. I’ll be your friend, bud. He stuck a thick finger into the mog’s enclosure and wiggled it against the soft fur. When the cat had budged up even closer in response, he knew that it was love.

After you left, when he would wake to that furry face rubbing against his chin, a paw tapping his cheek to ask to be let in under the covers, Dieter was grateful that he had someone who understood why—despite Pete’s encouragement—he could never quite go through with leaving that fucking fishbowl of a house for good. Not when he no longer had you.

The wretched, destructive thing that lived inside him conjured constant reminders of how your brightness had seeped into the very walls of the house. It dangled flashes of your smile in his periphery when he made his morning coffee, replayed echoes of your laugh when he reached for you in the middle of the night. They were glimpses of lost happiness that in those brief moments still radiated joy. The glow sometimes burned like hot coals, but he gathered every memory of you tightly his chest. The searing ache was worth it. Staying put was worth it. How else would he remember so clearly how much you had made his world come alive? And how else would you know how to find him when you decided to come back?

But when you did return to him, when you came home, Dieter’s dedication to remaining in that bastard house until his end of days vanished. He was climbing the walls to be rid of it as fast as humanly possible. Why would he want to stay there when it was a constant reminder of the destruction he had wrought? Without you the house was a lifeline, but with you it was a curse. It could never be the home he wanted to give you now that he had a second chance. Despite what his trusted energy worker suggested, a ceremonial disposal of the bed and a few rounds of sage burning would not have been enough to fix it.

So he called his realtor. Sold the house. Said goodbye to all its awful energy. Hoped that maybe all the worst versions of Dieter Bravo managed to be left there, trapped behind the glass. Waiting to be discovered and dealt with by whichever sad fuck bought that Hollywood house of mirrors, blissfully unaware of the demons they were to inherit.

The Dieter menagerie moved in to yours.

The Chairman and Dolly Purrton both quickly found their favourite new spots to snooze in puddles of sunshine, but as much as he longed to join them, Dieter could never quite settle.

The longer you shared the space and began to rebuild some of the trust and respect that needed to layer on top of your burning, incandescent love; the clearer it became that your house was also too haunted.

There was too bitter an aftertaste on both your tongues whenever you would pull into the drive, remembering the pleading eyes of past Dieters who had turned up unannounced at all hours of the night begging for forgiveness, desperate for a second chance. It was too jarring, the pangs of Dieter’s jealousy over plastic, perfect Brandon, who once upon a time happily wandered those halls, pressed you hungrily against those doorframes, laughed with you over a lovingly prepared dinner made in that kitchen. What a fucking prince.

The discomfort of it all, the continued haunting that he had thought escaping his former house would resolve, left Dieter lumbering through the house, wrapping himself in a moveable den of blankets and keeping a hand braced against his tummy or a cat cradled to his chest in an effort to soothe the roiling thoughts.

After he spent a full week between shoots wandering despondently from room to room, only able to feel grounded when you were somewhere in the house, you put your foot down.

This was meant to be a second chance, D. Not us climbing back into the coffin. This house was no longer your home, you told him, if it was responsible for the tension in his jaw and the ache you felt when either of you found reminders of all the past hurt.

And so Dieter set out to build you both a house. A home that would reverberate with the joys of love and the laughter of friends, and never, ever know the monster inside him that he was working so hard to put to rest. A sanctuary for the two of you, tucked against the hills in an area where the neighbours don’t care a single bit who either of you are, only that you look out for the community and pitch in a baked good or two for the annual block party.

It’s the house of your dreams because it represents your shared commitment to making a life together. It’s the house of his dreams because, somehow, you want to live there with him.

Given a blank check, the architect and interior designer work with the two of you to identify the exact touches that will make you feel beyond comfortable. The kind of upgrades that aren’t flashy, but make enjoying the pleasurable things in life even easier.

The new bed feels like you’re being cuddled by the softest clouds. You spend your free mornings tucked in under the covers together, letting him sneak peeks over your shoulder as you gleefully trade quips with your friends and read the naughtiest and most delicious smut before rising to start your day.

There’s a gas fireplace that can be lit at a moment’s notice when you want to curl up in one of the the divine plush chairs, which you picked out together after spending an afternoon in a high-end showroom, half focused on which were the most comfortable to read in, half on which could reliably sustain both of your weights in motion.

These are just a couple of your favourite things amidst a near embarrassment of riches. They make you feel as though you’ve won the lottery, and the lottery’s name was Dieter (just Dieter, your dear love Dieter, no Bravo in sight).

Picking out features and facets for the house was so much a shared project between the two of you—the thing you could work on through trading pinterest boards and voice notes, even when projects kept you physically apart—that it was a bit of a surprise when Dieter informed you that there was a room he wanted to build that he wasn’t going to share the details of. Not until it was done.

He took infinite pleasure in making a big show of the secret, whipping out a blindfold that may or may not have originated from your toy chest when you were set to do walkthroughs during construction, curling his broad body around you and nudging you forward with one foot and then the other until the room was far enough away from view that he could restore your sight without worry of ruining the surprise.

It’s going to be magnificent, angel, he would breathe gleefully against your ear.

The contractors were always thankfully far enough ahead of you that you didn’t feel embarrassed by the heat that flooded your face at the tickle of his words and the firmness of his chest against your back.

You had some sense of what the room might be. Dieter wouldn’t reject your idea for a vintage-inspired clawfoot tub in the master unless he was going to make it up to you somewhere else in the house. He knew how much of a comfort a soak in the bath was for you, there was no way he was going to deny you the luxury in your own home.

But what exactly this room looked like remained a mystery. Sometimes a package would arrive that he would eagerly squirrel away behind that closed door, disappearing for a while to set up whatever newest addition he had imagined on the road to perfection. Piece by piece, Dieter was building a dream, one that he specifically dreamed of for you.

In the meantime, the two of you moved into the house and set about truly making it your space, fit to burst with the vibrancy of your lives.

There was nothing like being able to wind down from the heights of the energy on set, the frenetic hustle that you loved so much but demanded that you be at a constant eleven.

Nothing like ending a chillier evening by the fire. Your feet tucked under the fluff of the Chairman’s rotund rump where it was perched on Dieter’s lap, your thumb idly tracing the drops of condensation on a bottle of cider.

Nothing like welcoming friends at the weekend for a hearty roast and glowing conversation, getting to show off the fruits of your beautiful gas range and indulge in the delight of warm bellies and full hearts.

Nothing like your Dieter, flush with a new aura of happiness and love and the therapy-influenced acceptance that he was allowed to have all of this, to have you, to know joy.

On the night of your birthday, when your body and head already feel floaty from a delightful evening featuring a steady flow of cocktails and sushi, Dieter sneaks away as you are bidding goodbye to your final guests.

Once the last of your friends are out the door, he places a pair of oversized scissors in your hands and herds you like an eager collie over to the soon-to-no-longer-be-secret room. There’s a velvety ribbon across the door and he has you make the ceremonial opening cut before placing one of his warm palms over your eyes and the other at your sternum, holding you to his chest and guiding you both over the threshold.

You feel a wall of steam envelop your body and your heart leaps with anticipation. Your bathtub. You were right.

Dieter removes his hand, “Open your eyes, angel.”

Immediately, your vision is flooded with ochre and gold. Candles flicker playfully on almost every possible surface, their dancing light filling the room.

It is clear to you right away that this oasis will become a peaceful near holy space, a sanctuary that you can retreat to when you need to shut out the rest of the world. Despite the many, many acts of sin that are bound to occur inside these four walls, there is something bright and pure about the energy that Dieter has curated.

Lush ferns and orchids are mounted to the walls, bound to flourish in the tropical climate that the frequent steam will create for them.

There are massive geodes of your favourite crystals that sparkle on pedestals, radiating deep energy and glistening in the candlelight.

Two skylights open the room up so you can see the heavens, as though from your watery cocoon you might be able to ascend to the stars.

The bath itself is cavernous, currently filled nearly to the brim and softly crackling with lush bubbles that are being stirred by what you assume must be underwater jets.

On the far wall, Dieter has painted an abstract mural that makes you think of the moments of calm that you feel when he wraps you in his arms after a long day. Soft, warm, safe.

As he follows your gaze, eager to ingest your every reaction, he directs you to look at the title that he’s lettered just next to his signature.

Angel’s rest.

Your eyes are misty, “Oh, D. It’s magic.”

“Everything for my girl. Everything.”

His voice cracks slightly through the whisper, his hands come to your waist to turn you in his embrace, strong eye contact boring into your soul with the depth of how very much he means those words, beyond this gift, beyond this house.

You have to kiss him. Your heart can’t take not fusing your mouth to his in this moment.

It’s a soft kiss, a tender kiss, one you could bask in from now until the end of time. It makes you so bright with love.

You can’t help but let your lips curve into a grin. You think he must be able to feel your cheek muscles twitch from how widely you are smiling against his lips.

He breaks from you, but immediately returns once, twice, and then presses a quick and cheeky peck against your jawline.

“Come, angel. Before the water gets too cold.”

Slowly, reverently, he helps you slide your sparkling birthday dress over your shoulders and down to the floor. Pressing gentle, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and lace-covered breasts as each inch of you is revealed.

He kneels before you to remove your panties. As soon as they are at your knees, he nuzzles his face against your mound, the tip of his nose nestling against your clit.

Fuck.

You hear him exhale happily when your stance softens, hands ghosting up and down your thighs, but instead of taking his first taste of your cunt for the evening, he draws back and tips his head toward the bath.

Pouting, you nod and let him help you out of your slippers, large hand cupping each ankle in turn. When your bare feet touch the floor, you can tell that there is some sort of heating system beneath the tile. It’s heaven.

You grasp his forearm for balance as you ascend the steps and then slide into the steaming hot water of the bath. You let your grip linger, playing with the flexing muscle that you feel ripple as he wiggles his fingers playfully. He knows you're a bit loony for the feel of his powerful arms.

Then he's pulling away from you again.

Despite the near-trance the water and this moment is sending you into, you let out a soft squawk of disapproval.

"Just for a minute, angel. I want to go get your present."

More gifts? Well, an indulgent Dieter is often the happiest Dieter and it is your birthday. And Dieter firmly believes that birthday girls deserve to have some lovely treats.

You let yourself doze, still tipsy and buzzing from the joys of the night, cradled by the bubbles and the soothing warmth of the water. The next thing you know, gentle but thick fingertips are lightly dragging their way from your knee to your hip and then up the flesh of your stomach, a mild and delicious friction. Before those fingers can reach the swell of your breast, your hands come up to halt their journey. Intertwining your fingers with his, you bring Dieter’s now somewhat bubble-covered hand up for a kiss, avoiding the worst of the soapy aftertaste by pressing your lips high on his pulse point.

When you make eye contact, his gaze still looks wild with love.

"Relaxed, angel?"

"Ever so."

You look over at him and find he's set a tray down on a bar cart that has appeared from somewhere in the room. On it, a box of four pralines from your favourite chocolatier, a chilled bottle of champagne, and a joint resting on the edge of a beautiful glass ashtray. It must be new because its colours are too perfect to not have been picked out lovingly by Dieter to match the room.

You sit up slightly. Happy birthday to you, indeed.

"May I join you?" The reverence in his voice feels it’s been magnified by the room.

"We've talked about this, baby. Water makes for horrible lube."

"I just want to cuddle with my birthday girl."

This Dieter, so tender, so vulnerably in love in a way that he never let himself be before you. You sense in this moment that he truly feels he needs permission to be allowed to just be in your space for a while, a hesitance fueled by past regrets and insecurities that even the promise and protection of this new house have not fully squashed. No matter. You are more than happy to affirm just how welcome in your arms he will always be.

You smile, nodding sleepily, and he sheds his clothing. You're so relaxed, so enveloped in warmth, that you almost forget to admire his bare body as he climbs in to join you. Almost. Thank goodness the part of your brain that always wants him, is always drawn to his form, isn't actually taking a holiday so you can admire.

When he's settled with his back against the side of the bath, Dieter pulls the cart over so that everything is in reach. He pops the champagne, handing you a glass, then brings one of the chocolates to his mouth, holding it in his teeth and wriggling his eyebrows playfully in a suggestion for you to take it from him.

You giggle and indulge him, using your hands to grip the edge tub on either side of his body and pull yourself through the water until you are practically chest to chest, nose to nose. Too close for true eye contact, but you can't help but pick one of his eyes to focus on, letting yourself go a bit crosseyed to try and send him every wonderful thing you have been feeling this evening directly through your gaze.

Slowly, gently, you close the remaining distance and bite the praline in half, letting your lips drag against his as the chocolate begins to melt on your tongue. It's perfectly bitter and smooth.

Dieter consumes the rest.

"Mmm. A not too sweet for my not too sweet."

The snort that leaves your body firmly disrupts the headiness of the moment, the exhalation forming a crater in the bubbles and making you further devolve into giggles when you have to bring a hand up to brush away a clump of the soapy fuzz that sticks to his cheek.

You press your forehead against Dieter's damp shoulder and feel the rise and fall of it as he joins you in mirth, arm coming up around you so you don't slide away from him as you once again relax into the water.

As the wave of laughter subsides, your breathing synchronizes with his and you let yourself soak in the quiet. A perfect christening of this tub. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"I love you, angel. Happy birthday."

[bfiaflbox]

The only time I feel I might get better

Pairing: Matty x Reader Warnings: Mentions of Drugs, drug use, alcoholism and recovery Disclaimer: All I know about this is second hand knowledge and things I googled so don't get mad when I get something wrong. I just thought this scenario is an interesting one and wanted to type it out. I kind of hate and love it at the same time.

It‘s around 11 pm when your doorbell rings. You were about to go to bed and were definitely not expecting visitors, so you‘re hesitant about answering. The doorbell rings again. „Y/n, are you there?!“ you hear a familiar voice shout. It’s Matty. In the middle of the night. Frantically ringing your doorbell. This is not a good sign.

You open the door to a disheveled looking Man who seems like he‘s about to cry. He‘s breathing heavily and fidgets with his hands. „I fucked up“ he almost whispers. Without asking any questions you let him in and go into support-person-mode.

The second the door closes behind Matty, he starts rambling. „Fuck, I‘m sorry, I’m so SO sorry. I'm so fucking tired, I can't think. I fucked up. I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t fight the urge to use anymore so I went out and…“ tears start falling down his face.

„Okay, okay, breathe!“ you try to convey as much calm as you can and look him in the eyes. You notice he doesn’t look particularly high or out of it just… sad and tired. „Is it ok if I touch you?“ it’s the most important question in this friendship of yours, however fucked up and complicated it may be. He had to ask before he could touch you every time not to trigger something in you, and you extended the same courtesy to him. He nods and you start to stroke his arms. „How about you come in and we talk?“ and maybe calm down before going to see a professional about it.

He nods and both of you make your way to the living room and sit down on the couch. Matty buries his face in his hands, elbows on knees.

„Okay, Matty, tell me what happened“

„I don’t know, I haven’t really slept in days and I feel so drained and everything‘s too much and I just wanted something to make that feeling go away, to feel some peace and smack was the only thing I was able to think of. Fuck! This is bad. I don’t want to do this again.“ you know the feeling all too well. „Fuck. I couldn’t even score myself, the guy selling knew who l am so I paid another junkie to do it. I'm so pathetic.“

„Have you consumed any?“

He shakes his head. „I didn’t. I couldn’t. I came here instead. I’m sober right now. Please believe me“

„I do, I believe you“

He‘s pressing his palms into his eyes, probably a desperate attempt to stop the tears.

„Do you still have it?“

„Jup“

„Go on, hand it over“ you extend your open hand. He can’t have it near him. It’s like the first rule of addiction recovery: remove temptation. It‘s what he did for you when he got rid of all the alcohol that you were gifted early into recovery by people who didn’t know about your addiction. It‘s what he kept doing for you over the years, being there with you, frequently checking in during family gatherings, work events and birthdays, occasions that were typically linked to alcohol consumption.

Matty reaches into his pocket and produces a small packet of tinfoil wrapped in plastic and hands it over without question.

„That all?“

He nods

„Right, ok. I‘m going to dispose of this in the kitchen, do you want some tea?“

„Yes please“ he chokes out.

You go into your kitchen, put the kettle on and get the opioid disposal process started. How to get rid of heroin is one of the many things you had no idea of before your friendship with Matty, but now you know exactly what to do: you get out a glass from the cubboard, fill it halfway with water and dump the contents of the little packet into it. You go to your fridge and see if you still have any lemon juice left and find some that you forgot you had which also smells rank. Doesn’t matter, it will do. You add the juice to make the opioids dissolve in water like you learned in a fucked up chemistry lesson you would only get from a sober heroin addict and stir. Then you get a ziplock bag and go to the hallway cubboard where you store cat litter for exactly this occasion. You fill a good amount of the cat litter into the ziplock bag and return to the kitchen, take the heroin-lemon-water and dump it into the cat litter. It produces an absolutely disgusting looking brown mass, rendering the opiates completely unsalvageable. You zip up the bag and throw it in the trash.

When you come back to the living room from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in hand, you find Matty laying down on your couch, blanket over his legs. You put the mugs down on the coffee table and sit down on the floor in front of the couch. You reach your hand to his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb. He sighs and absolutely heartbreaking sigh.

„I know“, you whisper. And you do. You know how hard it can be to be a recovering addict, being on the brink of relapse.

Matty seems to calm down a bit. He's stopped crying and you just sit with him and the emotions in silence.

„Thank you“ he whispers after some time.

„Always“ you reply softly.

„Can I stay?“

„You know you can“, you smile.

He audibly exhales and timidly asks „can you please not tell George?“ oh yes, the accountability system. No keeping secrets, owning up to your mistakes, making sure you don’t isolate, etcetera, etcetera. It‘s not an official program, more like a thing you both came up with on your own.

„You know I have to tell him, it‘s part of the deal, remember?“

„I know, but I want to tell him myself.“

„Okay. But I‘m gonna make sure you do!“

„Tomorrow?“ he sounds so drained and exhausted.

„Tomorrow“, you agree. You don’t think you‘d have it in you to ask anything of him that he doesn’t want to do. You’re soft like that for him.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring his face. His annoyingly handsome, lovely face and his slender but strong body. You long for him. And you long for him to get better. If only you could crack open his ribcage and personally fix everything that gives him grief, you would do it.

„I‘m so sorry“ he whispers again.

„I know. Trust me, I know“

„I feel like this right here is the only place where I can exist without judgement“, he admits and it makes you proud that you managed to create such a safe space for him and at the same time it breaks your heart knowing that the world is full of people watching and judging him. But truly, you feel like you‘re only returning the favour. He‘s been there for you through the worst parts of your life, always turning up for you when it mattered. A part of you fears you might no longer be here had it not been for him.

„Maybe here with you is even the only place I might get better… being with you makes me feel less helpless“

„Next time just come over without stopping at the dealer‘s before, yeah?“ you joke but on the inside your heart is burning. You want him and you want him to want you.

Matty smiles and you can feel him relaxing even more. Your hand is still tangled in his hair, thumb still stroking over his cheek. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He‘s exhausted and his body is begging for sleep. „It‘s okay, you can sleep, I‘ll stay here“ you say softly and you‘re not sure if he heard you because all his muscles are relaxing and he‘s lightly snoring, seemingly fast asleep.

You just sit here and watch him. You think about that one time he told you he didn’t feel worthy of any love or affection coming his way which makes you acutely aware of all the love you hold for him, that you don’t know where to put, that has nowhere to go. You wish you could tell him. Tell him that you‘ve never loved anyone like you love him. That you feel like you‘re missing an integral part of yourself when he‘s not there with you. That you love every part of him, even the ones he himself hates, that his vulnerability only makes you respect him more.

It is there and then, sitting on your living room floor in front of your couch with a sleeping Matty on it, that you decide you‘re gonna tell him. Tomorrow. You lay your head down on the couch, telling yourself you‘re only going to rest your eyes a bit before you fall asleep as well.

Little do you know that when Matty wakes up from a weird dream in the middle of the night and finds you asleep in what must be an uncomfortable position on the floor next to him, he decides that in the morning he is going to get over himself, be brave for once and just tell you that he loves you.

[sl-ut]

sweet cliches

THE BEGINNING

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!preppy!reader

description: just some hcs about the early stages of abby’s relationship with preppy!reader 

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes (i was really high when i wrote this)

date posted: 29/03/23

series masterlist

abby is a senior when they start dating, y/n is a sophomore

during abby’s freshman year, she became a star athlete so she was very popular by the time that y/n came into the picture

i hc that she plays either hockey or lacrosse (but that's probably just the canadian in me)

for the sake of the plot, let’s go with lacrosse

y/n doesn’t even appear on abby’s radar until the start of her senior year

they met through a mutual friend

y/n would know nora through a shared class or maybe work and got invited to some team party

she’s probably also on the cheer team, so they’ve been running in the same circles, just haven’t interacted much until this point

nora introduced her to the team at the party and abby wasn’t immediately interested

her sports career is her priority, so her dating history isn’t very long, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t get around a bit. bc of

 this, i feel like her usual type would be people similar to herself, and y/n did not fit that archetype

y/n had thought abby was attractive right off the bat. after the party she asked their mutual friends about her

she was disappointed when she was told that she wasn’t really abby’s type but pushed it to the back of her mind

abby caught interest when they bumped into each other at the campus coffee shop

she had noticed y/n standing in line behind her and started a friendly conversation, not expecting much

abby got the vibe that y/n may have been someone who was a bit full of themselves, and was genuinely surprised at the cramp that appeared from her stomach from laughing

the next time they talked was at another party, only she made an effort to talk to y/n for a bit before ducking out early

she gives me the vibe that she didn’t party very hard–she watched the amount of alcohol she consumed to keep herself in peak physical condition, and she needed to perform drug tests every once and a while to stay on the team

however, i think that she definitely still makes an effort to attend parties for the social aspect, and probably heads out around midnight every time

after winning a tournament or championship, however, abby is swimming in celebratory drinks and will definitely be a few sips past tipsy

y/n almost fainted the next day when nora told her that abby had asked her for y/n snapchat

from then on, y/n noticed how much more often she and abby would run into each other on campus, and began to wonder if it had been purposeful on abby’s part

abby finally made a move a few weeks later after she another rather casual date, probably just grabbing a coffee, going to a movie, or just hanging out at her apartment

it took her a few weeks to finally ask y/n to be her girlfriend

it was definitely asked in passing

like they went to a coffee shop or the library to study together quietly, abby was just watching y/n quietly and just asked. 

y/n smiled at her and nodded, and reached to hold her hand over the table for the rest of the time that they were there

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • IX

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 6.5k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter nine - Moral Antimatter (EDITED: 09-03-24, not new new to the story !)

new? start from chapter one here

She looked at the orange bottles with a detached expression.

“I’ve been consumed by guilt ever since, barely able to even look at you,” my voice began to rise, “How messed up am I? To do something like that to you, knowing that those meds are supposed to help you?”

I shook my head in frustration and slammed the glovebox shut, causing Y/N to jump.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Y/N,” I whispered now, “I am so sorry I did this to you. I am so sorry I dragged you into this.”

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again

+++++

Y/N

Beneath the covers of my bed, I curled into a ball with my knees pulled up to my chest. Soft sobs escaped me as I tried to control my emotions, but they continued to overwhelm me. My breaths were heavy and ragged, and I coughed from the congestion caused by the tears staining my cheeks.

My mind was in turmoil, replaying everything that had happened. It would be easy to blame myself for Noah's decision, but how could I when I never considered the consequences of letting him into my life? On the other hand, I couldn't just overlook his actions; if I were a normal person, I would have kicked him out of my life already. But I was too wrapped up in him, unable to let go despite everything he had done.

I really was so naive, huh?

I wanted to trust Noah. I still trust Noah.

In the end, it was my own fault. Why did I put my trust in someone who had only recently entered my life? How long until that trust wears thin and breaks into an unfixable mess? As tears streamed down my face for Noah, my chest heaved with anxiety from my past. I made a promise to myself not to go back to wearing that deceitful mask or to let them find me again. Yet, here I was, completely exposed and easy to track. The dealer in the dark alley recognized the mask and knew the code.

“We live in a twilight world: And there are no friends at dusk.”

I didn’t recognize him, but I knew that he could link me back to those I ran from. They haven’t worn the masquerade masks since I left.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the heat of my breath beginning to suffocate my body that lay beneath the covers of my duvet, shielding me from the world and all the problems within it.

"I'll See You At The Beginning, Friend."

I was going to be found, and it was going to be a mess.

If Kiean and Kade were about to be back in my life, I would need a saving grace.

As much as I didn’t want to talk to Noah about anything, or forgive him, I needed him.

I told him that I would risk it all for him, and I’ve proven it; but would he risk it all for me?

You think that I can’t see through it all? Who would walk back and risk it all for me now? Is this how breaking point sounds?

Truthfully, Noah isn’t the bad guy. If anything, once he finds out everything, I am.

I let the tears fall for a moment longer as I anxiously lived within my mind before the soft creak of my door opening snapped me away from my wading.

“Go away,” I mumbled, curling closer to my knees before the bed dipped gently. A soft purr came from behind the blanket and I sniffed, opening the covers to reveal Juice who waddled towards me. His head pushed into my hand, the soft orange fur of his coat instantly soothing me as my fingers ran through it.

“I thought you’d need a furry friend right now.” I heard from behind the door and I turned my head, noticing Nicholas peaking in.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sitting up as I held Juice in my arms. He purred harder at the touch, closing his eyes in contentment.

Nicholas pushed the door open more and he held out a mug in offering, “I brought you some tea?”

I sniffed, rubbing my eyes with my free hands in an attempt to erase the tears.

Nicholas walked into the room, setting a mug down on my nightstand before looking down at me with concern etched on his face. He sat on the edge of my bed carefully, not wanting to intrude.

"I'm here if you need to talk," he said softly.

I nodded and released Juice from my hold. The cat immediately went over to Nicholas, rubbing against his arm.

"He seems to have taken a liking to you," I said with a small smile.

"What can I say, I guess I have a way with cats," Nicholas chuckled, stroking the friendly feline.

I let out a low laugh and rubbed my eyes again before looking up at him.

As if he could read my thoughts, he spoke first.

"I knew," he said, and even though I had suspected it, my heart still clenched at his words.

"How long?" I whispered, picking at the fabric of my sheets.

Nicholas sighed, "Since it happened. I caught him replacing your pills."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. Not only did he steal them, but he also replaced them with lies. He never wanted me to find out.

"Was he ever planning on telling me?" I asked as tears welled up in my eyes once again.

Nicholas took in a breath and replied, "Yes. I tried to get him to tell you right away, but he wanted to wait until he paid off all your debts and could buy you more pills."

Silence hung between us as my mind raced.

"He messed up, Y/N. He knows that. But Noah cares about you deeply," Nicholas said sincerely.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, he cares so much that he purposely deceived me behind my back. And I would have given him the pills if he had just asked because they weren't doing anything for me anyway."

Nicholas turned to face me fully on the bed, his eyes watching me closely as another tear slipped down my cheek.

"Why do I still want to trust him?" I asked, my voice strained as tears blurred my vision once again.

"Because you also care about him," Nicholas replied calmly.

I let out a frustrated groan and pressed my palms into my eyes. "I see so much of myself in him. So much of who I used to be. And if I could get out, then he can too."

"What were you like before?" Nicholas asked curiously, studying me with genuine interest. He knew I had a bigger role in their world than what was initially presented, especially after seeing my involvement last night. We had grown closer over time and I knew that eventually I would have to trust him and the other boys fully.

It was difficult to admit the mistakes I had made.

"I'll tell you all eventually," I said, avoiding eye contact and turning away. "Once I can overcome the fear of revealing my past self."

Nicholas placed his hand on mine and gave me a comforting smile. "We are in no position to judge you, Y/N."

A wave of shame washed over me, causing my breath to catch in my throat. "Maybe so, but there is a reason why I tried to distance myself from who I used to be."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Nicholas's hand on mine was warm and reassuring, but I couldn't shake the anxiety clawing at my insides

"It's not just about judgment," I said softly. "It's about safety. For all of us."

Nicholas's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I bit my lip, debating how much to reveal. "The people I used to be involved with... they're dangerous. More dangerous than you can imagine. And if they find out where I am, or who I'm with now..."

I trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The possibilities were too terrifying to voice.

Nicholas squeezed my hand gently. "We can protect you, Y/N. You don't have to face this alone."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "You don't understand. These people... they have connections everywhere.”

+++++

NOAH

I sucked in a breath as my padded fist collided with the covered fabric, the punching bag swinging back towards me before throwing another punch at it again, sending the bag spiralling.

And you know that we’re racing sand But we’re stronger than we were before And their forked tongues won’t lead the way You’re not pure anymore

Sweat dripped down my forehead as the music blasted through my headphones, my chest rising and falling with each surge of adrenaline. I moved back and forth, unleashing a barrage of punches fueled by rage.

The sins run red, but they won’t live forever You’ll be forever fake Will the marks I lay out there come back to me?

Despite knowing that Y/N may not want to speak to me, I knew I needed to apologize properly. My heart ached at the thought of her missing our first live show tonight, but I couldn't ignore the possibility that she might request the night off, just as she did at the cafe this morning.

I punched the bag with all my might, trying to release some of the built-up frustration and tension inside me. The gym was my escape, a place where I could physically let go of the overwhelming emotions suffocating me. Luckily, there was no one else around, giving me a chance to be alone with my thoughts.

Everything that had happened was my fault, and I felt ashamed. If Y/N and I were going to have any kind of relationship in the future, we needed to be completely honest with each other; no more secrets.

I was determined to regain her trust, but I also knew that I needed to learn more about her past. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with my shirt, I took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh as lyrics from the song played on repeat in my mind.

Together we’re trapped inside of the scales Under the greed, and the ego’s weight I won’t be slipping when we all fall into Into moral decay

I confidently slid my gloves back on, ready to continue pounding the punching bag with all my might. As I swung my arms, I could feel the impact of each punch reverberate through my muscles. Suddenly, the lights in the gym went out, plunging me into complete darkness.

I quickly pulled out one of my earbuds and spun around, scanning the empty room in confusion. The small windows provided very little light, making it difficult to see anything. My heart rate increased as I furrowed my brow. Was there a power outage?

I took a few deep breaths as I stood still, trying to make sense of the situation. Eventually, I cautiously made my way towards the light switch and flipped it up. To my surprise, the lights came back on, leaving me even more puzzled. They had been turned off intentionally.

Just as I turned around, I was startled by a man standing directly in front of me. I instinctively let out a loud yell and jumped back, feeling a jolt in my stomach.

“What the fuck!”

He gave me a long stare, and I couldn't help but notice all the tattoos adorning his skin.

"Sebastian," he greeted me with a smile that showed off his shiny grillz.

It was Vincent, his true identity finally revealed. His sunken blue eyes and hollow jaw made him look even bonier than I had imagined, with a hint of scruff on his chin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I exclaimed, backing away from him.

"Just adding some theatrics to our encounter," he shrugged, running his fingers along the metal bars of the machinery behind him. His curly brown hair fell just past his shoulders.

I watched him warily, "How did you find me?"

Vincent let out a laugh, "A little birdie told me."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What do you want?"

He glanced between me and the equipment, the shine of his grillz taunting me. My stomach twisted with unease. He couldn't have known what I looked like without my mask. How did he manage to find me here?

Reaching into his pocket, Vincent pulled out a silver quarter and began twirling it between his fingers.

"How about this..." he started.

I eyed him carefully as I took another step back.

"If it lands on heads, you tell me about your friend Y/N," he suggested.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. What did Vincent want with Y/N?

"And if it lands on tails?" I asked with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.

"Then you tell me about your masked friend," he replied with a sly smile on his face.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I glared at Vincent. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Y/N and this mysterious masked person were one and the same, but I couldn't understand why he was fixated on it anyway. "Why do you need to know about either of them?" I demanded, hoping to redirect the conversation away from my involvement.

Vincent just smirked and produced a coin from his pocket. "Let's make a little wager, shall we? Heads or tails?" he asked, flipping the coin in the air with his thumb. We both watched it spin before landing back in his hand. He turned it over to reveal tails.

"Hmm, not what I was hoping for," he commented casually.

"Well, I have nothing to tell you either way," I stated firmly.

"But you know who wears the mask," Vincent pressed, leaning in closer.

"I don't," I insisted, shaking my head.

But Vincent's eyes gleamed with knowing. "You do know," he declared confidently.

"I hired someone to assist me," I explained dismissively, walking towards my backpack and water bottle.

"But how did you come into contact with a member of Fidelio? And specifically one who wears the volto mask?" Vincent prodded.

"Fidelio?" I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Vincent grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, causing me to yank away forcefully. "Get off me!" I shouted. "I have no clue what you're going on about. Can you just back off?"

“That member has been missing for months,” He said hastily.

I stared at him in incredulity. This guy was nuts.

He paused, watching me briefly, eyes darting across my lost expression, “you seriously have no idea?”

“No!” I yelled, grabbing my backpack from the ground, and swinging it over my shoulder.

“Well, then your point of my hire knowing the code is useless if others know it too,” I stated, beginning to walk past him, “Nice chat. I’ll see you at thVincent posed a question, "Have you ever seen the movie Eyes Wide Shut?" I shook my head in reply.

He ran his hand over his face and explained, "Fidelio is a cult that takes inspiration from the film - except without all the strange sexual and orgy activities."

I scoffed, "And this is relevant because?"

"Because that cult happens to be one of the largest underground drug dealers and crime syndicates in North America, and they've stopped operating since that mask went missing."

My mind clicked into gear when he mentioned crime syndicate; I vaguely remembered hearing about a few robberies carried out by individuals wearing masquerade masks... Venetian masquerade masks. Trying not to give anything away, I quickly sucked in a breath before casually shrugging and clenching my bag strap. "Great. So the person I hired was probably inspired by their methods and liked the mask."

But Vincent shook his head vigorously. "They knew the code."

I watched him closely, "So do you. Are you a member?"

He laughed at my assumption, "Me? Nah, it's flattering that you would think so, but no. My boss has been trying to take them down for years."

"So how do you know the code?" I pressed.

Vincent simply shrugged again, "The boss knows that's how they communicate."

“Well, then your point of my hire knowing the code is useless if others know it too,” I stated, beginning to walk past him, “Nice chat. I’ll see you at the end of the week with more drugs.”

Vincent shouted after me, “Wait. I need to know more about this Y/N Y/L/N.”

I stopped in my tracks, refusing to turn around as anger boiled inside of me. He may not know that Y/N was wearing a disguise, but he knew something about her.

“So you took the medication from her?” He asked.

I turned my head to the side, keeping my body still as I avoided his gaze, “Your coin landed on tails.”

Vincent brushed off my comment, “My boss is wondering where all the drugs are coming from, especially the ones that require a prescription. He wants me to keep track in case any of it leads back to us.” I wanted to leave, but my curiosity kept me rooted to the spot.

“I told him her name, and he claims to know her,” Vincent spoke slowly, “he’s been searching for her for years. So do you know her? Or was it just a random theft?”

My heart raced, but I didn’t want Vincent to see how nervous I was.

“Just a random theft,” I turned to face him now, answering without hesitation, “I have no idea who that woman is. Do you even realize how many people I steal from? And have stolen from since then?”

My throat constricted as I insulted Y/N, but I needed it to sound convincing.

Vincent nodded, his eyes studying mine intently as we stared each other down. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke again, “Do you remember where she lives?”

With a stern expression on my face, I locked eyes with him and said firmly, “No.”

He glanced at me and flipped the coin in his hand once more, “Well if you do remember, you know who to call.”

His shoulder grazed mine as he walked past me towards the exit of the gym, “See you later, Noah.”

My eyes slimmed in distaste as I followed his figure before I froze at the realization of what he called me.

Noah.

I’ve never told him my first name.

I spun around, but Vincent had already disappeared through the gym doors. My heart pounded as I tried to process what had just happened. How did he know my real name? And what did he want with Y/N?

Grabbing my things, I rushed out of the gym, scanning the parking lot for any sign of Vincent. But he was gone.

I needed to warn Y/N. Whatever was in her past, it was catching up to her. And now it was putting all of us in danger.

As I drove home, my mind raced. Who exactly was Y/N? What was her connection to this Fidelio cult? And how much did Vincent and his mysterious boss know?

When I pulled up to the house, I saw the car in the driveway. Good. Maybe the boys could help me figure out what to do.

+++++

Y/N

As we lay on the living room couch, watching TV, Folio asked, "Are you coming to the show tonight?"

I had put on Naturo to calm my nerves, and Ruffilo and Folio immediately ran upstairs in excitement upon hearing the intro.

I turned my head to look at him and replied, "I have to work tonight, so you couldn't stop me even if you wanted to." Folio and Ruffilo laughed, and I smiled before returning my attention to the show.

Nicholas nudged my side and asked, "How are we going to celebrate? We have to have a drink together." I squirmed under his touch but laughed, saying, "I'm not sure. I can try to get off early since I start at 4 today. You guys play at 11 pm, right?"

Nicholas nodded and said, "Yeah, 45-minute set or something."

"Noah will be happy you're coming," Nick added just as Noah walked in through the front door. The three of us looked at him, and I immediately sank into the couch in an attempt to hide myself. But Noah's eyes locked onto mine as he kicked off his shoes and stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"We need to talk. Bedroom, now," he said urgently, grabbing onto the wooden railing.

Folio let out a low murmur, shooting me a glance before turning his attention back to Noah. "That's not how you turn a girl on," he muttered.

"Get lost, Nick," Noah snapped, his gaze fixed on me as he waited for me to stand up.

"Y/N." His tone was stern and commanding, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I quickly got to my feet and followed Noah up the stairs, leaving the Nick’s behind. Once we were both in my bedroom, Noah closed the door behind us and turned to face me with an accusing look.

"Does Fidelio ring any bells?" His words sent a wave of panic through my body. How did he know about that?

My palms started sweating and I nervously twiddled my fingers together for a distraction. "Uh, like Beethoven's opera?" I stuttered.

Noah rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Don't act dumb. The mask."

My throat tightened with fear and my heart raced as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. "I don't know what you mean," I said, hoping it would be enough to avoid any further questions. But a voice in my head pushed me to tell him the truth. Why was I hesitating? "Are you the missing member who wore the Volto mask?" Noah demanded, gripping my arms tightly through my dark blue long-sleeved shirt.

Fear.

Tears welled up in my eyes and my breathing quickened, the familiar signs of a panic attack creeping in. Noah noticed immediately, his hold on me loosening as he looked at me with concerned chestnut eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong, Y/N," he said softly, pulling me closer to his body for comfort.

I mumbled into his shirt, "Yes."

Noah's hand moved to the back of my head, gently holding me as we swayed together in silence.

"Have you met Vincent before?" he asked after a moment.

With tears still falling and my body trembling, I shook my head and choked out, "No, but he knows the code."

Silhouette Guilty conscience Barely hanging by a breath

“He found me at the gym,” Noah began, pulling me from his body to look up at him, “He was asking about you. With the mask, and without.”

Cut the lights and make me your oblivion And I will follow Through the phosphorescent streets I'd give anything to be in over my head

My eyes widened as I looked at him, my breathing becoming shaky and uneven. "Does he know it's me?"

Noah shook his head, "No, but his boss knows your name. And he's aware of the Fidelio syndicate."

I took a deep breath, trying to process this new information.

"He knows your name because it was on the bottle when I sold your pills; his boss recognized it." Noah sighed and stepped back, running a hand over his face in frustration.

"I knew I recognized your mask," he muttered, "But I couldn't remember from where...until Vincent told me."

Noah pulled out his phone and quickly found a news article from a few months ago. He showed it to me, revealing my identity and connection to the infamous Fidelio crime organization.

Aftermath Broken promises collapse Bodies lay like shattered glass Hold the pieces, feel how nothing ever lasts

With tunnel vision fading in How I've thirsted for the end Pull me closer till I'm in over my head

My eyes skimmed the news article, and any words I had forming caught in my throat.

Noah's eyes were sunken and empty as he looked at me. "You came to Los Angeles not long after this happened," he said quietly.

Instantly, I felt the air get sucked out of me. "I was running," I admitted.

"That's why you gave me a chance," Noah continued, taking his phone away from my face and putting it back in his pocket. "You weren't any different from me."

Past tense. He knew that things had changed for me.

To have someone truly comprehend your mind is an intimate experience, and in this moment, Noah understood every part of me.

"I ran away," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I didn't want that life anymore. I felt used, angry, and unworthy."

Noah's expression softened as he listened to my confession. He reached out and gently took my hand in his.

"I understand," he said softly. "More than you know."

I looked up at him, tears still glistening in my eyes. "What do we do now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Noah sighed heavily. "We need to be careful. Vincent and his boss are clearly onto something, even if they don't have all the pieces yet."

I nodded, feeling a mix of fear and relief at finally having someone to share this burden with.

"We should tell the others," Noah continued. "They deserve to know what they might be getting into by associating with us."

The thought of revealing my past to everyone made my stomach churn, but I knew Noah was right. We couldn't keep them in the dark any longer.

"Okay," I agreed reluctant.

We are broken bodies bound for еach other In the impact, we become antimatter The dust hasn't settled but we feel the decay

“Your past does not define you,” Noah breathed softly, pulling me into another hug, “You were a result of circumstance…If anything it makes me respect you even more with how far you’ve come.”

Torn limb from limb, I am swearing your name Our hands collide, we brace together In the impact, we become antimatter

“I’m proud of you.”

Noah’s words rang in my ear as I cried, holding myself against his chest. My knuckles whitened through the grip I held on his sweater, my body vibrating through the pain. I’m proud of you. No one has ever said that to me.

I sobbed into his body for a few more moments as he squeezed me with compassion, taking in all the emotions I displayed for him.

“I knew what it was like being in your shoes,” I sniffed, “I’m still lost, but I’m finding my way. You deserve to escape too.”

Noah’s grip tightened before he pulled away, “I see it now.”

My mind was still racing at Vincent and the information Noah brought.

“Do you know who his boss is?” I asked Noah, even more nervous now. I didn’t know many people within the drug ring; I always played on the sidelines.

Was it someone who knew my true identity?

We're waiting in the wreckage for the sun to rise I'm staring at the fractures no one else can see, they're so complete When morning comes, will there be anyone left to find? My vision starts to surrender, as colors subvert the night

“I went by a different name,” I watched Noah carefully, “Y/N Y/L/N is my real name. Only two people back home know it, other than my extended family… that I know of.”

“I mean that’s smart. I don’t know who his boss is,” Noah said, his face contorting, “but maybe he’s tied back to you?”

I sighed anxiously. I had no idea who Vincent’s boss could be, but my stomach churned at the idea of it being one of the members of Fidelio.

“Why did you risk everything to come and help me rob the pharmacy?” Noah's grip on my hands was gentle but firm. “Especially when you chose to wear a mask.”

I shrugged, feeling the warmth spread through my hands from his touch. "I-I don't know. I couldn't just sit back and watch you stay trapped in this life. You asked for my help, and I couldn't say no. Plus, I have enough experience with this kind of thing."

One of Noah's hands moved up my arm and rested below my chin. He tilted my face up to meet his gaze, and I found myself drowning in his captivating October eyes.

Stolen by auroras, our bodies re-align Magnetic in the impulse, show me the other side Suspended in the ether, till I felt you in my chest I know we're not alone, but I'm in over my head

“I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about the pills, and I’m sorry I stole them.” His eyes darted across my face, sincerity radiating from his pupils, “I will never do anything like that again; over my dead body.”

His words burned into my skin through the touch of his fingertips. I knew he was sorry, and I knew he felt bad. He made a mistake, he wasn’t perfect. He was only human.

“I forgive you, Noah. You need the money,” I said, “You’re almost free.”

Noah drew me in closer, his arms wrapping around my back as I leaned into his embrace. Our lips grazed against each other softly, sending butterflies flitting through my stomach. Noah's breath was warm against my skin before he pressed his lips to mine with gentle care. This kiss was unlike any we had shared before- it wasn't fueled by passion or urgency but by a deep and sincere affection. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable in the best way possible, knowing that Noah accepted me exactly as I was, just as I accepted him.

We are broken bodies bound for each other In the impact, we become antimatter

+++++

The boys arrived at Sammy’s around 9 pm, occupying seats along the bar as they waited for me. In between attending to customers and pouring drinks, they would try to engage in conversation with me.

"Folio, I'm dying to hear about the biggest fish you ever caught," I exclaimed as I poured a few shots. "But do you realize I am working right now?"

Nick scowled and I gave him a sympathetic smile. As much as I enjoyed their company, it was difficult to focus on my job with them constantly distracting me. Especially when Noah was there.

Despite trying not to, I couldn't help but steal glances at him whenever he looked away. His smile lit up his eyes and his nose would scrunch up when Nicholas cracked a joke. And every time I walked away or turned to make a drink, I could feel Noah's eyes following me.

"Well," Nick took a sip of his beer, "if you can have sex with Noah in the bathroom at work, then you can listen to my fish story."

My eyes widened along with Noah's and we exchanged knowing looks before quickly turning away in embarrassment. I turned back around to take the shots to the waiting customers. Behind me, Nicholas burst into laughter and doubled over the counter, pulling Jolly down with him.

“Dude that was so out of pocket,” Nicholas wheezed as Jolly’s chortle echoed through the busy room.

The bar was decently packed tonight with people anticipating the first live music showcase. I was just as excited; because I couldn’t wait to hear them perform somewhere outside of the basement.

My mind kept tracing back to the realization that now that the mask was back, I was going to be traceable. My entire shift I felt uneasy, worried that with every turning corner someone who knew could show up; but I pushed away those thoughts, remaining happy and supportive as the boys were going to be on stage soon.

I walked back behind the counter, smiling at them.

“Guys want a shot for some liquid courage?” I asked, holding up a bottle of tequila.

“You know it,” Folio nodded.

“We should probably do a soundcheck, yeah?” Jolly raised a brow at Noah who nodded in agreement.

“That’s what bands do, right?” Noah said, spinning on the bar chair as I placed the shot and a lime wedge in front of each of them.

“To uh-” I raised my empty glass to cheer with them, but I couldn’t finish my sentence, because they hadn’t chosen a name for the band.

“To Glass Houses?” Jolly shrugged, and Noah mimicked him. The four boys took the drink, squinting at the bitterness before sucking on the lime.

“We haven’t chosen a name… but we can go by glass houses for now,” Noah laughed, before standing up.

I smiled up at them, giving the boys a thumbs up, “Good luck gentlemen, you got this!”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Nicholas smiled back, following Jolly and Nick towards the stage.

Noah turned to look at me, “Don’t judge us too hard, ok?”

“I’m not the cool one in a band,” I chuckled as I mixed another drink, “No judgment here, only proud to say I know you personally.”

“Ah yes,” Noah licked his lips before flashing a wide smile, “personally.” His tone insinuated something much more and I couldn’t help but shake my head as my face warmed once again.

“Break a leg, as they say.” I cheered, and Noah nodded at me before meeting the rest of the boys.

+

Half an hour later it was eleven, and I asked my boss if I could be off early. She didn’t mind, so I grabbed a rum and coke before sitting at the seats that were in front of the stage.

I could tell they were nervous as each of them fiddled with their equipment. A few moments later the stereo died down and Noah tapped the microphone, his hair cascading over his face as he spoke.

“Uh, hey!” He began the feedback echoing slightly through the bar. I smiled encouragingly up at him as his eyes met mine, and he smiled back as if speaking to me.

“So this is our first gig, we don’t have an official name but call us Glass Houses for now!”

The small crowd clapped as Noah looked towards the boys, nodding at them.

“So I guess we’ll start with a cover of Come Undone by Duran Duran!”

Another applause sounded and Jolly began playing the riff before Folio’s drums and Ruffilo’s bass joined.

Noah jumped on the floor as his hair whipped around, feeling the into and the crowd cheered, before he gripped the mic stand, preparing to sing.

“Mine immaculate dream Made breath and skin, I've been waiting for you Signed, with a home tattoo Happy birthday to you was created for you.”

I bobbed my head, proud as guests began singing along. It wasn’t until Noah’s voice became deeper and raspier with the chorus that I smiled wider, heart hammering as he sang, watching me periodically from the stand.

As Noah sang, his voice growing deeper and raspier with the chorus, I couldn't help but smile wider. My heart raced as he periodically glanced at me from the microphone stand while performing. The energy in the bar was electric as the crowd sang along and swayed to the music.

I felt a surge of pride watching the boys on stage. They had practiced hard and it showed in how tight and polished they sounded together. Jolly's guitar riffs soared while Folio and Ruffilo held down a solid rhythm section. And Noah commanded the stage with his passionate vocals and magnetic stage presence.

“Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone? Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone?”

As the evening went on, the boys continued to cover a variety of songs, building up to their final performance of the night.

"Thanks for rocking out with us, guys!" Noah exclaimed, taking a swig from his water bottle. "We're about to kick it up a notch, so I want to see you all headbanging!"

The crowd roared in response as Noah introduced their next song, Glass Houses. I couldn't help but bang my head along with the music as the boys rocked out on stage, their hair flying wildly in every direction. Pulling out my phone, I started recording their performance.

Just as I opened my phone, I noticed I had received a text message from an unknown number. My stomach sank and fear engulfed my body as I clicked on the message.

Los Angeles, hey? It’s about time we booked a vacation anyway. See you soon, my volto x

Chapter 10

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[absurdthirst]

Christmas For Hire {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22k

Warnings: Drug usage, strip clubs (we respect sex workers in this house), alcohol, lewd comments, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, breeding kink (just talk), lactation kink (just talk), fantasy, Dieter being needy, angst, miscommunication

Comments: Alone and lonely for the holidays, Dieter finds himself in your place of work. Drunk and high, he offers you the deal of lifetime, $20k to pretend to be his girlfriend and give him a Christmas to remember. It might just be the best thing he's ever done.

A/N: Based off this GIF right here from Closer (2004)

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList ||

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

The Christmas lights and ornaments that the owners strung up along the stage and the VIP booths seem to clash with the darkness that seems to shroud most clubs. Allowing the light from the stage to be the focus, and give the patrons some sense of privacy as they watch the lewd displays of skin as dancers twirl on the poles and create dance routines around surprisingly peppy Christmas music. Serving tray filled, you adjust your Santa hat and wink at the burly bartender before you set off to deliver the drinks. 

Working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club was good money, you can’t deny that. Although some of the patrons never seem to understand that you aren’t a dancer. That no matter how many bills they stuff in your costumes, you will not grind on their laps or take them back into the Champagne Room. You just serve the champagne. “Double vodka with peach schnapps and soda.” You drop a drink off with a smile before moving on to deposit three beers and two tequila shots off to a group of military men who are watching Kandy before making your way back to the last booth in your section. The high roller booth. “Bottle of Dom and one glass.” You check the order even though you know it by heart. “And a Four Horsemen eggnog.” You give the man at the table a smile as you try not to fangirl over the fact that you are serving Dieter Bravo.

You walk off and Dieter can’t help but admire your ass. He smirks, glancing back at Kandy Kane dressed in a red and white outfit, her tits on display, but she’s not his type. Dieter crosses his arms, glancing around the room at the creepy men leering and he realizes he isn’t any better than them, spending the day before Christmas Eve loitering in a strip club. His family is gone; either dead or doesn’t speak to him. His friends only want him when he has drugs or money and he doesn’t want to indulge their bullshit so here he is, alone and watching titties while sipping a fucking eggnog. When you come back, he smiles in thanks. “Can you come sit with me?” He asks.

You see the glassy edge to his eyes, his pupils look like some kind of anime character, nearly blown out to where you can’t tell he has brown eyes. He’s high off his ass, something you have plenty of experience with in your job. Dancers or customers, all looking to forget for a while and even if you don’t do it yourself, you try not to judge. “Sure.” It would be nice to take a minute off your heels and take a small break. You had just made the rounds so you can spare a moment. You flop down into the booth and hum. “What brings you out tonight?” You ask, not mentioning you know who he is.

Dieter shrugs, “I haven’t got any Christmas plans so here I am. Looking at titties and drinking champagne.” He chuckles humorlessly. He knows his plans are pathetic but it’s all he has unless he decides to drink himself stupid through the holiday. “Sorry. You don’t want to listen to my shit.” He reaches for the money he has bundled up and hands you a hundred bucks. “Merry Christmas.”

You bite your lip before you fold the bill up and tuck it into your pocket. “Thank you.” Sliding towards the edge of the booth, you send him a searching look. “Can I get you some food? The burgers are horrible but the fries and hot wings are good.”

Dieter shakes his head, “no thanks. I am vegan right now….according to my agent.” Dieter winks and hands you another hundred dollars. “Get me some chicken wings, sweetheart. No one needs to know.” He picks up the glass of champagne, looking forward to some wings.

“Absolutely.” You grin and send him a conspiratorial wink of your own before you turn around to hurry towards the kitchen. You know that you shouldn’t flirt, it always turns out badly here, but it’s Dieter Bravo. The worst you think could happen is that he turns out to be an asshole and an asshole wouldn’t just give you a quarter of your rent in ten minutes.

Dieter watches you walk off, hips swaying and for a moment he wonders what you’d be like dancing on the stage. When you return with his plate, he groans at the sight of the wings. He hadn’t been able to eat meat due to the press being on his ass and he has missed it. “So what are you doing for Christmas Day?” Dieter asks you, curious to hear your plans and long for his own.

You shrug slightly watching him pick up a wing and smell it. He groans and his eyes flutter before he takes a bite and it’s kind of fascinating to see how eager he is for a chicken wing. “The usual.” You glance around to make sure the boss isn’t signaling or no one else needs anything. As much as you feel Dieter needs entertainment, you do have to serve others. “Probably lay around in my pajamas watching Christmas movies on Hallmark and baking some cookies.” Just a small batch, but nothing sounded better. Maybe sleeping in a little.

"No family?" Dieter asks with intrigue. You look like the kind of girl who has a boyfriend at home, parents, a dog. The whole shebang. You shake your head, "they live across the country and I can't afford to go home this year." You admit and Dieter frowns, hating to hear that. "I'm sorry. I'm alone too. My Christmas Day usually consists of too much booze and watching shit TV." He snorts, sipping the champagne after setting a bony chicken wing down.

You tilt your head, confused as to why someone famous like Dieter would spend the holidays alone. “Why don’t you have some kind of party? Hang out with friends?” You ask, not knowing much about Hollywood and actors. “Surely you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be. You’re- you know, Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter scoffs, “because I’m sick of the insincerity. The lack of authenticity around the holidays is disgusting. I want - I want something real. I want to bake cookies and watch shitty movies. I want to just be with someone and it be real.” He admits, sighs as he wipes his hands and turns to look at you. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He groans, staring at you. You are prettier than the dancers, sexier for sure and he is still high when he blurts out “what does your cunt taste like?”

You don’t let things that come out of men’s mouths shock you anymore. If you did, you would be walking around with the surprised Picakchu face all the time, so you just lean in and give him a faint smile. “Heaven.” You promise silkily, watching his eyes widen when more as they flick down to your covered crotch. Now comes the moment where Dieter Bravo offers you more of those hundred dollar bills to find out and he goes from decent to asshole in your book. Which will be sad because you loved Hunger Strike. 

Dieter swallows, knowing that you are what he has been looking for. “Come stay with me.” He demands and you shake your head. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t sleep with-” 

Dieter waves his hands, “no. I don’t want sex.” He shocks even himself with that statement, “I want to spend Christmas with you. I want to bake cookies. I want to watch movies. I want to decorate a tree. All the holiday shit. You come to my house. I want…I want you to pretend to be my spouse. No sex.” He promises, “just - I want to be normal. I want - I want to spend Christmas with you and I’ll pay you.”

It’s probably the most bizarre request you’ve ever had and that’s saying something considering one guy wanted to do a shot of Jack out of your asshole. You frown, hating that your immediate response is to ask how much but a girl has to pay her bills. “This isn’t some trick to get me to your house and pull some Armie Hammer shit, is it?” You ask suspiciously.

Dieter shakes his head, “fuck no. I like being tied up though.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Seriously though, I don’t want sex. I just want company. It’s like…it’s like Pretty Woman. I just want a companion over the holidays and I like you. I’ll pay you…twenty thousand for two days. Until the day after Christmas.”

“Twe-twenty- thou-thousand?” You gasp out, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you try to imagine having that much money. “You want to pay me twenty thousand dollars to pretend to be your wife and do Christmas shit with you for two days? No sex? No funny stuff? I sleep alone?”

“You will have your own room. I just - I know it’s weird but I want you to pretend we are married and do traditional Christmas stuff with me. I, um, I have never really experienced it since my parents got divorced before I was three so I want to experience a real family Christmas. Just do the things most families do together.”

It’s crazy to consider it, you know it. Every bit of advice you give to dancers runs through your head; ‘don’t go home with that man’, ‘if it’s too good to be true, it is’. Still….twenty thousand dollars to bake cookies and watch movies sounds amazing. “Half upfront.” You demand, arching a brow in challenge.

Dieter grins, pleased you’ve agreed. “Deal.” He holds his hand out and you shake it, making him giggle with excitement. “I’ll have a car come pick you up in the morning. I’ll have my assistant get us everything we need for the holiday and I will have my assistant bring you the check for ten thousand in the morning. Unless you want me to transfer it now?” Dieter grabs the phone he hates carrying around.

“No, uh, in the morning is fine.” You bite your lip. “No, wait-  yeah, a transfer would be okay.” You don’t trust checks because he could stop payment or it be bad. You don’t think he would scam you, but twenty thousand is so much money to you.

Dieter nods, “you have your phone? We can do it now.” He is desperate to have a proper Christmas, one like the stupid movies he watches and cries at when he’s alone. He watches you grab your phone from your apron and he smiles when you pull up your banking info. “Type it in sweetheart.” He hands You his phone for you to copy the information. For some reason, he trusts you. He’s in a strip club two days before Christmas but he just trusts you implicitly.

Dieter presses the transfer button, sending ten thousand to your account. It’s worth it. Every penny will be worth it if he can experience a picturesque Christmas. “Give me your address and my assistant will come and pick you up tomorrow.” He says, handing you back his phone so you can put your number in it.

Your eyes widen when you check your own phone and see an extra ten thousand in your account. “Uh, sure.” You bite your lip and open up your contact card to give him your full name, phone number and address. “Just, uh, if you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll transfer the money back.” You promise, not believing that it would be right to keep it if he woke up tomorrow and realized he had made a mistake.

Dieter shakes his head, “I won’t.” He pulls another couple of hundred dollar bills and hands one to you, “for the wings. See you tomorrow, wifey, for our Hallmark Christmas.” He winks and stands, walking over to the stage to toss the other bill to Kandy Kane before he sways slightly as he walks out of the club, still high as a kite but he’s already dialing his assistant to get everything ready for you.

****

Normally you sleep until noon in the afternoon when you work because of the hours - not closing until three or four and then getting home. This morning, however, you were wide awake at 9, showering and trying to decide what to pack for two days at Dieter’s house. Where does he live? You don’t have a clue, but it has to be better than the cramped apartment you share with your roommate in a rundown area. It could be worse, but it could also be a lot better but it’s what you can afford while you work your ass off to better yourself. Deciding to have a few things to change into, you put on leggings and your most festive Christmas sweaters. Wondering if this is really happening as you nervously watch the clock.

Dieter is brushing his hair, almost treating this like a role as he styles his usually messy hair into a gelled back comb. His sweater is expensive and rarely worn except for press events but it helps him get into character and he smiles, excited to spend Christmas with someone. He had a tree delivered this morning and his assistant laid out the decorations for you and him to decorate the tree. There’s ingredients for dinners and hot chocolate and cookies. The kitchen is almost overflowing and Nat King Cole’s smooth voice is already flowing through the house.

A driver…a fucking driver comes to pick you up from your apartment. Dressed in a suit and driving the cleanest SUV you’ve ever seen in your life. On the backseat, there is a package for you, presumably from his assistant and you open it up to find an NDA ready to be signed and a list of activities and foods that they have prepared. “Jesus, money really does buy what you want.” You mutter as you sign the papers and stuff them back inside. You don’t care about not being able to talk about this with anyone, who would believe you? You look out the window and feel like a tourist as the driver takes you to the Sherman Oaks area.

Dieter struggles to contain himself when he gets the text that you are on your way. His assistant had you send a photo of the NDA and so Dieter is confident that he can make this an amazing time...you are going to give him what he wants: a proper holiday. He paces, shoving his hands in his pants as he waits for you to arrive at his home.

You are nervous when you stop in front of a gorgeous house. It’s large, a little bit more traditional than you were expecting, but it screams that this person has money. Lord knows you would never live somewhere like this. You wait until the driver opens the door and slide out, shouldering your purse and biting your lip as you try to gather your nerves. He just wants a Christmas experience and you had decided to shove a small present and some wrapping paper in your bag, something ridiculous, but what do you buy a movie star who wants you to act like his wife for Christmas? “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, the driver getting your bag as you walk up the path to the front door.

When the doorbell rings, Dieter brushes his hair back and rushes to open the door. Grinning when he sees you, he steps ahead to let you in. "Come in. Come in." He gestures with his hands too, excitement making him like an over eager puppy. He has the music playing and he is ready to get the holiday season started.

You don’t exactly know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting Dieter to look so….put together. He looks like he’s attending a Christmas movie premier, and his eyes are bright and excited. “Hi.” You step into the house and look around, not surprised that it’s clean since you’re sure he has a maid or housekeeper or something. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” You offer.

Dieter shakes his head, admiring you. You look just as beautiful as you did last night except you're wearing leggings and a Christmas sweater so it's his fucking dream come true. He smiles, watching you for a moment. "Not at all. Come in. I'll show you to your room." He says, reaching out to take your bags from the driver before the driver shuts the door and leaves you alone with the actor.

“This house is gorgeous.” You gush, looking around at the obvious designer decor. It looks very un-lived in, but maybe he liked it that way. “It’s going to look amazing after we decorate it for Christmas.”

Dieter grins, "absolutely! I have so much I want to do. I want to have eggnog and make hot chocolate. I want to bake sugar cookies and decorate them and I want to decorate the tree and watch movies and - shit. We need to get started." He rushes out, carrying your bags and he sets your bags down in the beautiful guest room.

You can’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm, it is a far cry from most men at the holidays. You hum, delighted at the bedroom and you know you won’t have any problem staying here for two days. “So, how about we turn on a Christmas movie while we get started on the cookies and we can decorate the tree while they are baking?” You suggest. “While drinking hot chocolate. We’ll save the eggnog for when we are snuggled in watching movies tonight.” You send him a small wink. “Boozy eggnog is my favorite.”

Dieter groans at the thought. God, this was his best idea ever. “I love that. Let’s do it!” He’s practically bouncing as he watches you open your bag. “Come on baby. We haven’t got all day. Let’s get started!” He whines a little, wanting you to hurry up so the festivities can begin.

His giddiness is almost infectious and you put down your toiletry case. “Okay.” You kick off your shoes and grin at him. “Let’s go make sure we’ve got everything we need.”

Dieter practically giggles as he takes your hand and guides you through the house to the kitchen, proudly displaying everything his assistant had purchased for your Christmas spectacular. “Sugar cookies.” Dieter says as he walks over to the section labeled “cookie making.” His assistant laid everything out for what he declared he wanted to do.

“Wow.” You whistle under your breath and look over all the ingredients happily. “Do you want to have some hot chocolate while we mix up cookie dough or do you want to save that for decorating the tree?” The open concept kitchen and living area was perfect for seeing the large 85 inch TV and the 12 foot Christmas tree from the island.

Dieter shakes his head, "let's have it later." He reaches out to touch your arm, "thank you for coming here sweetheart. I- I haven't ever experienced a proper Christmas. My parents...they got divorced when I was a kid but they - they were always arguing during the holidays." He rolls his eyes and walks over to the oven, biting his lip. "Um, do you know how this works?"

It’s sad that he’s not had a proper Christmas, that the people who had made him couldn’t put aside their differences to give their child good memories. “I do.” You are intrigued by the idea that he doesn't know how to use his own stove. “I typed up my favorite recipes on my phone.” You announce, swiping it open and grinning. “We need to preheat the oven to 375.”

Dieter bites his lip, “could you- I don’t know how to use this. I don’t really, um, I don’t really cook. Ever.” He admits with flushed cheeks, feeling a little useless. He should know this basic shit but his parents never taught him.

“No worries!” You wave away his embarrassment as if it’s nothing. “One apartment I lived in only had two burners that worked and the oven only heated up to a certain temp.” You tell him as you walk over and examine the knobs. “Every one of them is different.” You press the button and turn the temperature knob, smirking when the LED screen for the oven lights up. “Perfect!”

Dieter smiles, watching you, and he is glad you are here. He made a good choice with you. You’re patient and kind already. Perfect for Christmas. He watches you set the oven and he bites his lip, wondering what to do next. “I haven’t made cookies either.” He confesses feeling so stupid.

“Best part about cookies is eating the dough.” You promise him before grabbing the very Christmasy aprons his assistant has bought. “Okay, cover that very sexy sweater so we don’t get flour on it and we are going to make the perfect sugar cookies for tonight!” The Christmas music is playing through the subtle spears in the house and you just feel good right now. Wanting to make this special for him.

He can’t help but smirk at you, “you think this sweater is sexy?” You playfully roll your eyes, making him chuckle, and he winks at you while he ties the apron around his waist. You quickly get to work, showing him what to measure for the ingredients and soon enough, he’s using the cookie cutter for the dough. “I’m doing it.” He says more to himself, a wide grin on his face as he admires the Christmas tree shaped cookie.

“Here, try some.” You pinch a small ball of dough in your fingers and offer it to him. You had expected him to take from you with his hand, but Dieter leans down and eats the cookie dough from your fingers, his tongue brushing over your skin and making you giggle slightly.

He groans as the sweetness hits his tongue and he swallows the bite. “Shit that’s good stuff. Almost like crack…and I should know.” He teases, winking at you and he continues cutting out the cookies. “So…are you from L.A?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

You want to give him a few details, but you also want to keep this magical for him. Looking over his shoulder, you supervise his cookie cutting and hum. “Oh you know, same old story as everyone else. The glamor of L.A. was exciting and then I realized it’s not that great.” You shrug slightly, moving over to a saucepan to start measuring out ingredients for some hot chocolate to cook while the cookies are baking. “But my favorite story is how we met.” You tell him, sending him back a playful wink when he looks at you confused. “Who knew my runaway dog from my dog walking job would lead to being married to Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter grins when he picks up your storyline, and he walks over to you, placing his floured hands on your hips. “Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Flustered with those dogs but still so gorgeous.” He smiles at you.

“Please.” You roll your eyes and stir the simmering chocolate on the stove. “I was a mess and the hottest guy who I’ve ever seen catches the little terror and is calmly feeding him the beef jerky he was eating.”

Dieter smirks, “beef jerky? I’m supposed to be vegan. Polls well among my fans. Weed and vegetables. No jerky.” He teases, internally puffing his chest at you calling him the hottest guy you’ve ever seen but he knows you are just playing along. “Then we went for coffee and we just hit it off. Who knew you’d have been my future wife?”

“Well since you are vegan, I guess I better change my plans from the beef wellington I was planning to make for Christmas dinner.” You tease, watching his eyes widen slightly. “Maybe some mushroom steaks instead? Hubby?” You wink again, enjoying the sense of teasing and playfulness, something you think he doesn’t do with a lot of people. 

Dieter shakes his head, eyes horrified. “Absolutely not. You have to make it. No one will know.” He pleads, voice taking on a whining quality as his grip on your hips tightens slightly. “Please baby. Can you please make beef wellington?”

You smirk and lean back against him. “Of course, honey.” You purr. “We are going to have a perfect Christmas dinner followed up by way too many cookies for dessert.” The timer you set goes off and you hum. “First batch needs to come out to cool before we decorate them.”

Dieter grins with excitement, letting go of you so you can take the cookies out of the oven. He leans over, admiring his handiwork and he beams, excited that he actually makes something edible. He makes some more cookies with the cutters, glancing at you constantly, and he is reminded once more of what a good idea this was of his. To have you in his home, indulging in his fantasy of a perfect Christmas.

Once more cookies are in the oven and the hot chocolate is poured up into large mugs, you motion towards the large Christmas tree that is standing bare next to a gorgeous picture window that spans from floor to ceiling and gives immaculate views of the city. “Do you want to start putting the lights and ornaments on the tree?” You ask, noticing that everything looks brand new, like it was just purchased. 

“Yeah.” Dieter shuffles slightly, embarrassed. “My assistant went and got all this today, I didn’t have any decorations.” He admits. 

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to judge him, not when he’s so happy about all of this. “They look like they will be gorgeous and you can always pick out a few more to add every year. You know, make it a tradition.”

Dieter is buzzing as you start to put lights around the tree, helping you and when you’re on the ladder to finish the top part, he can’t help but admire your ass. You are gorgeous, he can’t help noticing that, but the way you are making him feel is engineered by the holiday spirit. It’s not real, even if he’s desperately pretending it is.

“All that is left is the star.” You announce, looking back down at him and choosing to ignore the way that he was staring at your ass. “Honey, you would do the honors and put it on?” You ask, holding it out to him as you climb back down. “I think it should be you to do it.”

Dieter flusters but agrees, smiling at you as he replaces you on the ladder and proudly places the star on top of the tree. Pride of place and looking so beautiful. The tree looks like something from a fairy tale and Dieter cannot be happier. He steps off of the ladder and wraps his arm around your waist, “thank you.” He leans in to kiss your cheek before he looks back at the tree to admire it.

“It looks amazing.” You grab your phone and take a quick selfie with Dieter in front of the tree. It won’t be something you show to anyone but you deserve a memento of your hard work and beautiful decorating together. “The cookies should be ready to decorate if you want to do that.” You offer, knowing he wants to pack as much Christmas spirit as he can into the two days.

Dieter nods, so grateful that you are going along with this like you actually are his wife. He smiles, “that sounds amazing baby.” He doesn’t even think about not calling you baby but he likes the way it sounds when he talks to you. He smiles, playfully rubbing your back as he guides you into the kitchen and admires the Christmas tree from its place across the room.

The last batch of cookies come out of the oven to cook while you arrange all the decorative frostings and sprinkles. “So I have a friend who makes those really fancy cookies, and she made ones that look like gray sweatpants, complete with a package impression.” You give a dirty little laugh as you outline the star cookie you’re decorating in red frosting. “Love those damn cookies.”

Dieter raises his eyebrow, surprised at you but he equally loves that you’re a little dirty. He smirks, watching you, and he snorts when you wink at him. “They taste good?” He asks, picking up the white icing and he growls in frustration when he fucks it up immediately.

“Honey, don’t worry.” You reach over and pick up a toothpick to smooth out the mistake. “See? Anything you don’t like, over it in sprinkles or the colored sugar. Imperfect cookies are the best tasting ones.”

Dieter hates that it isn’t perfect but he lets it go, swallowing harshly as he starts to put sprinkles on the cookie. You calling him honey has his stomach twisting and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate on the next cookie he is decorating.

“This is a lot of fun.” You admit, giving him a smile as the decorated cookies pile up. “I love making cookies. Always dreamed of being like those movies where you exchange cookies with your neighbors every holiday.”

Dieter grins, “I wish it was like that but L.A isn’t exactly a picturesque holiday scene. It’s too hot, and palm trees don’t really scream Christmas. Plus…my neighbors are assholes.” He snorts, shaking his head as you both finish up the last of the cookies. He’s gotten better at decorating.

You wonder how much the neighbors are really assholes and how much of it is just being done with Dieter’s antics, imagining him to be a handful as a neighbor. Instead of asking, you just send him a warm grin. “Well that just means more cookies for us.”

Dieter grins, “I like the way you think, baby.” He finishes up the last cookie with flare, sprinkling the edible glitter over it with a flourish. “They look delicious. Can we - do you want to watch a movie and have a few cookies?” He asks, not even thinking about the mess in the kitchen.

“We have to.” You whirl around the open the fridge and pull out some milk. “Why don’t we turn on the Hallmark channel? They always have great, cheerful, romantic movies. Or we can find some classics?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my favorite movie is It’s a Wonderful Life. Can we watch that?” He asks, knowing it’s a classic but it’s not exactly cheery like Elf. That’s probably why he likes it. A bit of misery mixed with the joy makes it more relatable.

You immediately melt, giving a sappy sigh. “I love It’s a Wonderful Life.” You admit breathlessly. “For me, it’s a must watch every single year.” You start poking around in his cabinets to look for glasses and luck upon them when you open the first door. “Why don’t you go turn it on and I’ll bring in the milk?”

He beams, so excited that you want to watch the movie he so dearly loves and has watched since he was a kid. He kisses your cheek before he rushes into the living room, grabbing the remote to turn on his ridiculously big TV. He works fast to find the movie in his library and puts it on, the music starting just as you sit down with the tray of cookies and milk.

“I love Jimmy Stewart movies.” You reach over to hand Dieter a tall glass of milk. “I remember watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in school when I was younger and it made me want to make movies back then.” You chuckle at your younger wide eyed dreams and lean back against his expensive couch with one of the obviously new Christmas blankets to pull over your lap. “What made you want to act, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “I, uh, I didn’t really want to be an actor. My mom…she decided to take me for a kids casting call for a commercial when I was four and I’ve been in the business ever since. Got cast in a movie when I was ten and I’ve had roles ever since. During the lockdown, I was crawling out of my skin so I took Cliff Beasts 6 to get out of my house. Acting is all I’ve ever known.”

You feel horrible for him, wondering if he would have chosen something else if he had the opportunity to. “Well, you’re an amazing actor.” You promise him, reaching over and laying your hand on his leg. “Hunger Strike is great, but my favorite one was the little Indy movie you did a couple of years ago, Horizon? It just- I loved it. You should have won another Oscar.”

Dieter grins, reaching for your hand. “I loved that movie so much. As soon as I read the script, I knew I had to be in it. My agent didn’t think it was high profile enough but I didn’t care. It was a passion project.” He confesses, blushing a little since you have watched his movies.

“You should do more of them.” You insist, squeezing his hand. “Doesn’t matter if they are high profile or not, your fans will love it and who knows? You can shine a spotlight on some small, just getting started directors, give them a boost up.”

Dieter nods, “I have a few scripts that I’ve been sent that I need to read from new writers and new directors. Do you, uh, do you have a dream? Other than working at the club?” He asks, keeping his hand in yours.

“Honestly?” You give a small shrug. “I would love to write.” You admit, almost bashfully. You’ve never told many people about it and you hope he’s not the type to think it’s stupid. “Books.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you write? What do you write about? Do you have any excerpts? I fucking love reading. Wish I had more time for it honestly. Tell me more.” He demands, eyes wide and eager.

The movie plays in the background but neither one of you is paying attention. You squirm slightly and give a small, embarrassed shrug. “I’m sure that it’s not something you want to read.” You say breezily, sure that he will roll his eyes. “I write- I like writing romance, but like- science fiction romance?”

Dieter snorts and you instantly deflate but he shakes his head. “Baby girl, I read fucking Twilight. I love romance. I love sci-fi. Tell me what your idea is.”

It makes you feel a little better but you still chew on your lip. “I want to write a series where the main character is a hunter, her family was destroyed by vampires when she was little and so it’s her mission to kill them. She gets bitten by a werewolf along the way.” You grin. “I also want to add the element of soulmates so it ends up that the latest vampire she is chasing would have been hers as a human and he hates werewolves.”

Dieter contemplates your idea for a few moments, making you squirm, until he grins. “That sounds fucking incredible!” He says in awe of your imagination. “Have you started writing this?”

“A little.” You huff. “It's hard to write with the schedule I work, or I’m just emotionally worn out by the way I’m constantly fending off sleazeballs at the club.” You snort. “They don’t seem to understand that I serve drinks, not handjobs.”

Shaking his head, Dieter squeezes your hand. “Assholes. Respect and consent are fucking important and necessary. If I go to a club, I always make sure I ask if I can touch. Not that I- I don’t want a happy ending.” He flusters, “I can get laid in a heartbeat without paying but I- I want something that actually means something.”

“Of course you can.” You don’t doubt that. He’s Dieter Bravo. “You’re hot, first and foremost, but you’re also famous.” Being hot is more important to you, it doesn’t matter that he’s famous, or rich.

Dieter shakes his head, "see? I don't want someone to want me simply because I'm Dieter Bravo. I want someone to want me because they want me. Who I truly am. The real Dieter but...I don't even know if I know who I truly am anymore." He confesses, biting his lip.

You snort, shaking your head. “I wasn’t saying that being famous is the most important part. You’re genuinely hot.” You huff at him. “You don’t realize that? I’m sure that someone who isn’t vapid would soak up the real you. Come on, you obviously want love and happiness. Maybe you would even do less drugs.”

Dieter chuckles, “I wish. It’s a fucking expensive addiction to have. Do you - are you - do you take any drugs?” He swears he can’t speak around you. You get him tongue tied because you’re so goddamn beautiful, especially sitting there wearing the Christmas sweater and that sparkle in your eye. He won’t push for more, that’s not what this is about and he didn’t pay money for sex, he wants the fantasy of Christmas he’s always longed for.

“No, I’ve been lucky. Been offered them plenty of times but beyond smoking some weed every now and again, I don’t do anything.” You know Dieter has, you watched him OD on camera during the behind the scenes thing for Cliff Beasts. “Most I do is drink.”

Dieter nods, “I can respect that. Drugs…it numbs the loneliness. I guess I thought by now I’d have a wife and my own family to look after, enjoy the holidays with. I haven’t been so lucky.” He sighs, keeping your hand in his. “Anyway, let’s rewind the movie and watch it.” He says, reaching for the remote to deflect off of him.

You let the conversation die, not wanting him to be mired in misery. Your job here is to make him feel like he’s having a proper Christmas. “Let’s turn on your fireplace.” You suggest, knowing that it’s not cold enough, but it would be a pretty aesthetic. “Turn off the lights and have the tree lit up. I know it’s still light outside but it’s the atmosphere that makes it, right?”

Dieter nods, almost making himself dizzy and he grabs the remote for the fireplace. “It’s fake.” He chuckles, making you snort, and he turns the fireplace on while you turn on the Christmas tree. It’s picture perfect and when you settle on the sofa, he restarts the movie. He smiles at you and shifts to lay down, resting his head in your lap.

You melt a little at how desperate Dieter is for affection. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you play with it while you watch the movie. You hum as Jimmy’s character talks about Mary wanting the moon and how he will get it for her. It’s something that you want, but you don’t think anyone will ever be that for you. To care about what you want and try to make you happy. You want a mutual relationship, where someone cares for you as much as you care for them.

Dieter groans as your fingers card through his hair. It’s intoxicating and he almost closes his eyes as he struggles to concentrate on the movie. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, just breathing you in as the faux fire crackles and the Christmas lights twinkle. This is what he’s yearned for. “That feels so good, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Just relax and enjoy it.” You murmur softly. It’s nothing for you to play with his hair and you have him almost purring. It’s fun, curling your finger around the small curls and every now and again you scratch his scalp, knowing how much you would love it.

Dieter can’t help but twitch in his pants at the feel of you scratching his scalp. He fucking loves it. With a groan, he tries to discreetly reach down and adjust himself, watching the movie and you from the corner of his eye to see if you notice.

You smirk to yourself when you see him adjust himself, continuing to scratch his head. You just pretend like you don’t know what it's doing to him. So he’s getting turned on by having his head scratched? You’ve been turned on by things that catch you off guard. “Does that feel good, honey?” You ask softly, looking back at the tv.

Dieter is flustered by what you’re doing to him. He never usually gets hard from this kind of thing. He’s had men and women expose every part of themselves and he’s twitched but not gotten hard. This intimacy, the atmosphere has him hard and aching for you but that’s not what he paid you for. He doesn’t want to take advantage and ruin this. This is about the holiday, not sex. The movie is coming to an end and Dieter’s cock is still hard but he has tears in his eyes as he watches Jimmy on screen. So many emotions that he identifies with and yet so many he doesn’t truly understand despite acting them out.

“It always makes me cry.” You sniffle slightly, blinking back tears when you hear them singing at the end. “It’s just so- wonderful.” You laugh at yourself for being such a sap, and sigh, stroking Dieter’s hair one last time before you have to stop touching him.

Dieter sighs in both contentment and a little upset you’ve stopped running your fingers through his hair. “Can we watch something else? Maybe, um, maybe Love Actually? It’s another one of my favorites.” He confesses with a blush as he looks up at you.

You smile at the idea that this man who has so many wild antics in Hollywood has a secret affinity for Love Actually. “We can do that, although we should probably eat more than cookies right? What do you want to eat, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my assistant gets my groceries so I don’t…I don’t really know what I have in the fridge.” He confesses, feeling stupid for not knowing. “But…I wouldn’t mind grilled cheese and tomato soup.” He tilts his head at you.

“That honestly sounds like a perfect meal.” You admit, your own stomach agreeing happily. “Why don’t you come with me and we can make it together?” You suggest. “It’ll be fun. We can use the cookie cutters and make Christmas grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Dieter practically cheers as he shuffles off of the sofa. “Hell yes. I love the way you think, baby!” He grins as he rushes to the kitchen to get started on the dinner with you. This is more than he could’ve ever wanted. You are indulging his every fantasy…well, most of them.

You love the idea that the dinner you are making isn’t something fancy or involved. Simple comfort food that always hits the spot and makes you feel cozy. There is canned soup in his pantry, which is amazingly large and you can just dream of having one day, and there are different cheeses and bread to make the perfect sandwiches. “I love your kitchen.” You gush as you get everything out. “Soooo much.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you like his home. “I didn’t design it. I just bought this home. It used to belong to Brad Pitt.” He snorts, “good thing it wasn’t in the divorce settlement. At least I haven’t been married.” He shrugs, a little upset by that fact but marriages in Hollywood are destined for failure. There are too many temptations and offers.

“What kind of wedding would you want?” You ask curiously as you open the cans and dump them into a pan to warm up the soup. He’s got everything you could want in a kitchen but he obviously doesn’t use it. If you had this kitchen you would cook every day. “Big, small? Lavish, courthouse?”

Dieter leans against the counter and watches you, “I would want a small wedding. Just me and my partner. I don’t have any family and my friends…they aren’t real. Just fake friends who want whatever I can give them.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I’d want a beach wedding. Just me and my partner and no distractions or press.”

“That sounds really nice.” You smile at the thought, imagining Dieter in some white Hawaiian shirt and linen pants, barefoot and grinning happily. “I could see that. Something towards sunset, warm and intimate.” You imagine it for yourself for a moment before dismissing it as stupid. Dieter asked you to spend Christmas with him, not the rest of your life and you know that he could be fickle from what the magazines report. “I hope you get that.” 

Scratching his cheek, Dieter sighs. “I guess we will see. Doesn’t look like it’s on the cards for me but who knows? Maybe one day.” He offers you a weak smile and turns towards the bread. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“Do you want to butter the bread and decide how cheesy you want the sandwiches to be?” You ask as you open the cabinets to see about finding the spices. Canned soup is always better when you add spices. 

Dieter nods, excited to be doing something like this after so long of depending on others to just look after him. He’s hungry today. Probably because he hasn’t gotten high enough to tune out the hunger like he does on days when he’s feeling self conscious. ���So what about your dating life? Anyone on your mind?” Dieter asks as he butters the bread.

You snort and shake your head. “Yeah, let me tell you, my dating options are fantastic.” You huff. “Anyone I tell where I work automatically assumes I’m a dancer or that I’m a prostitute.” You roll your eyes. “Or that I’m easy and want to be their doormat. So I just….don’t date.” 

Dieter shakes his head, “people can be fucking idiots. You are doing your job. You’re a cocktail waitress. You aren’t paid to take your clothes off and if you do, you discuss that with your partner and ensure you have proper communication. I have been naked for movie scenes and I’ve talked to my partner about it beforehand to make sure they understand it’s just acting. Also, it’s insane you don’t date. No matter what you do for work, you’re fucking gorgeous and anyone with eyes would be dumb to let your job be a deal breaker.”

“Men can be very weird about things like that.” You give a small shrug and bite back the comment that you are well aware of his nude scenes. It’s always been one of those things that you thought ridiculous where you see everything on a woman and you only see the man’s ass on tv. Although Dieter does have a nice, albeit tiny, ass. “But thank you. I’ve also been told I have high standards for wanting a man to not cheat on me. Apparently being okay with looking but not touching isn’t enough.”

Dieter snorts, “I’m all for free love. If my partner is happy with it. I’ve had threesomes, foursomes, orgies. But never, ever, without the implicit consent of my partner. Most of those times I’ve been single though. Cheating is just fucked up. Just don’t be with someone if you’re gonna cheat on them.” He rolls his eyes, “that’s just wrong. I don’t agree with that shit. When you’re with someone, you’re with them. If not, just break up. Don’t cheat. It’s cruel.” He shakes his head.

You are so surprised at his view on things, although you really appreciate it. “Thank you!” You point the spoon at him. “Exactly. Just be single. Don’t fucking try to justify it by ‘oh I know you’re sleeping with dudes at work’ or ‘well you don’t give me seven blowjobs a week’. Just admit you aren’t made for a monogamous relationship and find something that works for you. Don’t be shitty and lie.”

Dieter nods, “precisely. Just be honest about what you want instead of selling the house and 2.5 kids then go and stick your dick in everything with a pulse. If you wanna do that, find a partner who can accept that. Me…I’ve kinda had my fill of orgies.” He admits seriously, “I’m tired of emotionless sex.”

“I’ve honestly never been into orgies.” You admit. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share.” You’ve had your experiences and decided it wasn’t for you. “Besides, I’ve found most threesomes are about a guy wanting two girls but being insulted when you want another guy and pitching a fit.”

“Idiots.” Dieter rolls his eyes again, “you’ll find someone who will appreciate you and adore you without needing any of that extra shit.” He promises you, offering you a soft smile. “You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and you’ll find the right person.”

“Thank you.” It’s incredibly sweet of him to say that, and you give him a smile of gratitude. “You will find the same thing. Someone who just wants to take care of you and shower you in love and affection.”

Dieter’s heart thumps and he walks over to you at the stove, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, baby.” He knows this doesn’t exactly play into his fantasy but he likes talking to you about your realities. It gives him perspective and he is excited to spend Christmas with you.

Finishing dinner is relatively simple and soon you have another tray of food to bring out to the living room. “This is going to be a great holiday.” You murmur as the sun starts to set and the lights from the Christmas tree appear brighter.

Dieter beams as you tell him it’s going to be a wonderful holiday. He agrees and if so excited to be spending the holiday exactly as he’s always dreamed. He just wishes it was with his family, his children and you as his wife. It’s too easy to imagine when you sit down next to him.

The movie starts and you hand Dieter his bowl of soup and the star shaped grilled cheese slices. “So, when you have babies, how many do you want?” You ask him, really unable to see him with a baby. Maybe like that guy from The Hangover with the kid strapped to his chest.

Dieter dips the sandwich into the soup, chewing as he considers it. “I want at least three.” Your eyes widen and he shrugs, “I have enough money to care for twenty kids. I have the home for them, I have the staff. I just need a woman to have them.”

You snort, imagining him offering money to women to have babies with him. “Okay, Nick Canon, slow the baby gravy train down.” You joke before you take a bite of your own soup.

Dieter playfully rolls his eyes, “I said three. Not twelve. Besides, I don’t want multiple women. I want one. One that I- that I love. It’s just, it’s hard to find because I’m not easy to live with, easy to handle.”

“What are you talking about?” You huff and roll your eyes at his ridiculous comment. “You aren’t difficult to handle. Look at us. Last night you were asking how my cunt tastes and you are perfectly respectful and not acting like a jerk. You are thankful for what I’m doing for you and you are eager to be involved.”

He blushes at your kind words, knowing that he isn’t easy to handle, but you seem to be able to take him in your stride. Reminded of him asking you what your cunt tastes like has him blushing even more. “I, uh, I’m sorry about the, um, the cunt comment. Although I’m sure it does taste like heaven. I was high and I tend to just blurt things out.”

You laugh. “I thought it was funny, at least you were respectful about it, even then.” You don’t want him to beat himself up over it. “You seem like you are respectful of boundaries when they are pointed out. So, please don’t worry about it. At least I have an amazing story. Dieter Bravo asked how I taste.” You laugh again and wink at him playfully.

Dieter chuckles before he takes another bite of the grilled cheese. “You’d be the perfect wife though. You are gorgeous, kind, you can cook, you - any guy would be lucky to have you.” He tells you with a soft smile before he sips on his soup. He knows it’s just a fantasy but it’s too easy to see you in his life.

Your stomach flips and you manage a grin. “Well, when you find someone who wants me, let me know.” You joke, wishing that you didn’t feel vulnerable, like it was never going to happen for you. “Or I’ll just, you know, come spend Christmas with you until you find that perfect wife to give you three babies.”

Dieter grins, “I wouldn’t object to that. Maybe we could just spend the rest of our Christmases together.” He says without truly considering it, just imagining every Christmas like this but with kids running around. It’s a heavy thought but it doesn’t scare him. You seem to put him at ease. “So, um, do you have any plans to have kids in the future?”

“I want them.” You admit, with a small shrug. “But I have to find the guy and a better job. One where I wouldn’t be working at night or worrying about guys hitting on me more because I’m pregnant.” You roll your eyes, remembering how some of them went crazy for one of the dancers when she had been pregnant.

Dieter understands, knowing how guys can act around a pregnant woman. “You’d be a beautiful pregnant woman. I understand why you’d be hit on and I- I know why you’d want a different job.” He doesn’t judge you for your job but he knows why you’d want to change it if you were pregnant.” He wants to tell you he’d provide for you but he knows he can’t be that forward. He barely knows you. “Men can be creeps.” He scoffs, knowing how his sex can be.

“Besides….” You shake your head. “I’m never going to get what I really want.” You sigh. 

“What’s that?” Dieter asks and you bite your lip. “I’d love to be able to get to a point where I could be home with the baby, at least until they are in school. But I would need to become successful first to afford that.”

Dieter sets his now empty plate down and takes your hand in his. “So you become a writer…become successful…and then you’re able to stay at home and look after a baby. Well, shit. We can make that happen. I’m sure my agent has contacts. Do you have any pages written for your idea?”

You’re surprised that he wants to help you out, but you nod, knowing you’ve got at least three chapters down. “I can send you the document if you want to read it.”

“Hell yes. Please baby. Send it to me. I want to read it. See how good you are and maybe I can have my agent send some pages to a publisher so we can get you someone early.” Dieter nods and looks eager to help. 

You blink, surprised that he would be willing to use his connections to help someone else. You don’t know how many articles call Dieter selfish and spoiled, maybe catered to was more accurate, but this was kinder than anyone else has ever been about your writing before. “Thank you.” You gush out, leaning over and kissing his cheek softly.

Dieter’s heart thumps as you kiss his cheek and he flusters, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s, uh, the least I can do. Everyone deserves a chance in this hell hole of a town. Everyone deserves a shot at their dreams.” He declares and then looks back at the movie, “oh this is my favorite part.” He points at the screen as Hugh Grant dances around on the screen.

You look back at the movie and giggle at him gyrating his hips on camera. “He’s a better dancer than you are.” You tease, having seen him dance on the behind the scenes they had put out on the disastrous Cliff Beasts saga.

“Hey!” Dieter pouts at you, “don’t be mean.” He winks at you after a moment, “to be fair, I was high for 99% of that movie and was high when I was dancing so I didn’t really get a chance to be a good dancer.” He chuckles, nudging you gently.

“Oh really?” You grin and put your plate down. Leaping to your feet, you grab his hand. “So come on, show me.” You demand, pausing the movie. “Turn on some music and dance with me. Show me those moves.”

"Oh shit." Dieter grins and shakes his head as he lets you drag him up. He bites his lip, making his way over to the stereo system he owns, complete with huge speakers and a turntable. He's never been a streaming music kind of guy. He loves the feel of vinyl, the sound, it reminds him of his childhood. He picks up a Christmas album while you pause the movie and he grins as the song starts to play through the speakers, reaching for your hand.

Dieter pulls you towards him and you try to ignore the way that your heart races. This isn’t real and he shouldn’t be making you imagine this is everyday, dancing together in the home you share together. “Your assistant bought this today, didn’t she?” You ask with a grin as the words to Jingle Bell Rock pours out of the speakers and both of you start to move to the beat.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I’ve had my vinyls since I was a kid. I collect them. Nothing like music. I fucking love it, especially on vinyl. Streaming just isn’t the same sound.” Dieter spins you around and he pulls you back into his chest, his hands gripping your waist.

Your grin turns into a delighted laugh and you love how naturally the two of you seem to move together. “What does your collection look like?” You ask, not seeing a bookshelf of vinyls in his living room.

“It’s too big to fit in this room.” He confesses with a blush, “I keep some records out here but switch them out. My main collection is in the movie room.” He has always had a love of movies so naturally, he needed to have a movie room to watch them as well as his living room. “Maybe we can watch something in there later. I wouldn’t mind watching more movies.” He sways you as the music continues.

“That sounds good.” You don’t mind watching movies with him or just going through his records. But he is paying you for the experience that he wants. “Whatever you want to do.” You promise. “Although we do need to maybe go see some Christmas lights?”

Dieter nods, “yes! Let’s take a drive around the neighborhoods to see the lights, we can take some hot chocolate to go and just watch the world pass by.” He sighs, almost romantically, and pulls you close once more.

“That sounds perfect.” You want to tell him that he should decorate his own house, but you don’t. Imagining putting up decorations on the outside of the house as well. It’s not like this is going to last beyond the day after Christmas. You lean in and lay your head on his shoulder as he leads you through the song.

The song comes to an end and Dieter leans back to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being here baby.” He says even though he knows he’s paying for you to be here. He just indulges in the fact that you are here for him because you want to be. The next song plays but Dieter doesn’t rush to pull back, content to just hold you. It’s been so long since he had this kind of intimacy without expectations.

Somehow, the two of you dance until the record ends, making you whine softly when you have to pull away from Dieter. He was actually a good dancer and warm and comforting. It felt good in his arms. “Should we get ready to go look at Christmas lights?” You offer quietly.

Dieter nods, knowing he can’t exactly wear a sweater and coat in L.A December weather but he’s excited to head out and see the lights in his shorts. “Come on baby!” He calls you from the garage while you get the flask of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He is practically buzzing as you turn on Christmas music for you to cruise through the neighborhood, enjoying the spectacular lights his rich neighbors no doubt paid someone to put up.

“Wow.” Dieter pulls the car to a stop and you both let down the windows to hear the music that is synchronized with the lights for a dazzling show. “I would love to do something like that.” You murmur to yourself, in awe of the time, effort and money it took to do something like that just for the hell of it. “I bet the sound and lights guys for movies have the best setups.” You joke.

Dieter chuckles, “I know a few that live around here. Let’s go see.” He pulls away from the curb, heading towards the guy who did the sound for the Jurassic World movies that lives in the neighborhood. “If his yard isn’t Christmas dinosaur themed, he’s doing it wrong.” Dieter says after he explains who the guy is.

“Ohhhh, I saw a triceratops inflatable for Christmas at the store!” You laugh. “I can imagine doing that or Star Wars themed for kids when I have them. Mickey and Santa are overdone. Find a niche.”

Dieter chuckles, “maybe that Mandalorian dude. People thought I was playing him until he took the helmet off. He looks nothing like me.” He snorts, turning into the street and already the house is impressively decorated.

You snicker and sneak a glance over at him. “Maybe a little.” You tease. “Looks like you two have a similar nose. But your lips are different.” You may or may not have spent a little bit of him staring at his lips during his movies. They are so cute and you love the little crease on his bottom lip.

Dieter smirks, not missing a beat. “You've been looking at my lips, wifey?” He teases, winking at you. You fluster and he loves it. He loves how he seems to affect you.

“You know you’re attractive.” You huff, slightly embarrassed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. Dieter seems to soak up this kind of attention so you don’t mind it too much. “You are on the Sexist People list nearly every year. Although you should have won over Chris Evans.” You snort and bite your own lip.

Dieter wrinkles his nose, “people only see the photo shoots with makeup and hair and stylists. They don’t see trash panda Bravo, which is who I am most days. I don’t tend to bother shaving or dressing in anything other than comfy clothes. If it is any consolation, you’re fucking hot. I haven’t been able to stop looking at your lips either baby. Fucking kissable but I - I didn’t pay you to be my - to be here for that. I paid you to be company and that was our agreement.

That statement should not be that hot to you. It shouldn’t make you want to unbuckle your seatbelt and crush your lips to his. But it does. For all the bullshit antics Dieter Bravo may pull, he genuinely believes in consent and that’s fucking sexy. You had seen the clips where he was asking anyone and everyone to sleep with him during the Cliff Beasts production, and being totally chill when they turned him down. The spoiled actor ego doesn’t extend to the bedroom and that was something that should be appreciated. You cover his hand on the gear knob with your own. “I thought you were hot in a sloppy way when you came in last night.” You promise him with a smirk. “And of course your lips are fucking kissable. You make me want to plant some of my chapstick on your lips.”

Dieter’s eyes widen in a comical way at your words and it soon turns into an undeniably sexy smirk. “Baby…can I fucking kiss you?” He asks, almost whining as he leans a little closer over the console when he’s stopped outside of the home that has a myriad of dinosaur inflatables - including some moving dinosaurs like the damn movie. It’s impressive but Dieter is more interested in you.

Your breath catches when he asks, the flood of arousal undeniable at the way Dieter Bravo is looking at you like he wants to make you Christmas dinner. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you nod. “Yes.” You are breathless when you give him permission and nervous.

Dieter licks his lips, setting them, before he leans in to softly press his lips to yours. He groans at the first taste of that chapstick you mentioned and he reaches up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth and he groans when you open eagerly, allowing him to explore your mouth.

No fucking wonder he could get away with basically having two women on a red carpet event. There’s a small whimper in the back of your throat as your hand comes to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his tongue slides against yours and his own moan is breathed into your mouth like he is just as affected.

Dieter is in no rush to end this kiss, happily molding his lips to yours while his tongue slides against your teeth before tangling with yours. He caresses your neck while he kisses you until he pulls back after a moment to look at you in surprise. His heart is pounding and he hasn’t been this turned on in a long time. You’ve not even done anything but kiss but it has his heart racing.

You blink for a moment, quiet as you try to comprehend what the hell just happens at your phone dings, making you jump and breaking the spell over the moment. You look down and your heart is pounding. “Oh, there’s a little Christmas thing nearby.” You tell Dieter. “Spiced cider and hot chocolate, hay rides through a Christmas light thing.”

“Yeah? You wanna go babe?” Dieter asks, reaching for your free hand and acting like what just happened wasn’t as big a deal as his heart is making it out to be. His heart is thumping in his chest but he doesn’t let that show as he asks you to give him directions to this Christmas thing.

The two of you are quiet until you pull up into the busy parking lot. Kids and parents everywhere and you grin to yourself as you get out of the car. “They even have a little snow area!” You exclaim, pointing out the area where they were making snow for the kids to play in. It was melting quickly but the kids didn’t care, making snow angels. “One year I want to be snowed into a cabin for  Christmas.” You sigh wistfully.

“Oooh, that sounds like a dream. Snow falling. Fire going. Maybe one day we could do that.” Dieter is eager, parking the car and he gets out and comes around to open your door, holding his hand out for you. “Come on, let’s go.”

There is traditional Christmas music geared towards kids playing and the entire atmosphere is one of magic and joy. Even a sigh to visit Santa Claus for a last minute sit on his lap. Your hand in his feels just right and you squeeze his hand. “What do you want to do first?” You ask. “Oh! They have roasted chestnuts! I’ve always wanted to try them!”

Dieter grins, guiding you towards the chestnuts. “Come on baby, let’s get you some nuts.” He winks, making you roll your eyes, and he chuckles when you end up giggling at his dumb joke. He buys you a bag of roasted chestnuts, “here you go wifey.”

You pop one of the roasted nuts into your mouth and moan in pleasure and surprise at the taste. “Honey, you have to try this.” Your fingers immediately dive into the bag to pluck another and hold it up to his lips. “Please hubby?” You bat your eyes at him playfully.

He smirks, taking the nut from your grip and he wraps his lips around your fingers as he takes the nut into his mouth. He closes his eyes and pulls back, chewing on the roasted chestnut and he hums at the taste. “That’s fucking delicious.” He says after he swallows, his hand finding your waist and he squeezes your hip.

You can’t help yourself, not when he looks so cute and thrilled to be right here with you. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kid-friendly kiss that still has your heart pounding in your chest as you rock back on your heels and grin at him. “I’m paying for the spiced cider.” You promise. “My portion of our Christmas date.”

Dieter’s heart thumps at the kiss you offer him and he shakes his head at your offer to pay for the cider. “No. No. I’m paying for it.” He insists, “especially if this is a date night.” He continues the ruse, honestly wanting to believe it, it would be easy to imagine you as his wife. “I’m not letting my wife pay for anything.” He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You roll your eyes playfully and huff at his inability to let you pay. “Fine.” You pout and sigh dramatically. “I’ll let my husband spoil me.” You reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. “Let’s get our cider and get in line for the hayride.”

It’s too easy to be with you like this but Dieter knows that it’s end come the day after Christmas. He’s going to enjoy every second of your company. After paying for the cider, you wait in line for the hayride and Dieter notices a woman talking to her husband, both of them staring at Dieter. He sighs, knowing they recognize him despite his genius disguise of a baseball cap and plain t-shirt. He just hopes no one gets photos…for your sake.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” You lean around Dieter and speak to the woman. “Seeing him in public.” You grin and put your fingers up to your lips. “Don’t tell anyone, since he’s trying to be incognito, but I can take a quick pic of you with him if you want. As long as you don’t post it tonight. Let him enjoy the Christmas Eve festivities.” You look back at Dieter to see if he’s okay with that.

Dieter nods, smiling at your genius way of getting the woman to keep his presence a secret. He quickly saddles up beside her after she hands you her phone and he grins as you take the photo, winking at you as he steps back beside you and kisses your cheek, “thank you baby. You should be my new PR manager.” He teases, taking his drink back from you after the woman thanks him.

Preening slightly at the compliment, you take a sip of your cider. “People are in awe when they see famous people being just like them.” You give him a small shrug and shuffle closer to him, enjoying the coziness of the atmosphere. “Let them think they are the only ones that figured it out, and they don’t spill the beans.”

Dieter rubs your arm, “you’re right but now, let’s hope we don’t get any more fuss about me being here. I want us to have privacy without people swarming. I hate that shit.” He leans in to press a kiss to your neck. He is grateful you agreed to spend this time with him. When you are called to get on the hayride, Dieter tosses your finished cider cups away and helps you up, his hand close to your ass.

The two of you are huddled together on the ride, not because the temperature calls for it, but the moment does. Leaning into him and holding his hand is natural, and you tuck your face against his neck with your other arm around his back. “Are you enjoying yourself, honey?” You whisper, wanting to make sure he’s not suddenly feeling anxious about being out with you. You’re a nobody and you can’t imagine that would be good for his reputation.

“I am. It’s perfect.” Dieter grins, cheeks almost hurting with how perfect today has been. You are worth every single penny he spent for your company. That reminds him that he paid for your company, you’re here for the money, not for him, and that makes him stiffen a little beside you.

When Dieter stiffens, you think there’s something that he doesn’t like so you rub his back more, looking around to see if you can spot anyone staring or taking pictures. You can’t even imagine how difficult it has to be sometimes. “Hey, when we go back to your house, do you want to change into pajamas and watch another movie?” You ask, wanting him to focus on something to look forward to. “Maybe make some popcorn and make out?” You take a risk and kiss his jaw, wanting to kiss him again.

Dieter hums, deep in thought about why you want to make out. Perhaps you pity him so much you think he’d want that. Or maybe you genuinely want to kiss him? He doesn’t know and he’s confused right now so he doesn’t say anything. Just waits until the ride is over to help you down and finally, he says “why do you want to make out with me?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks burn and you look away, mortified that you had read him wrong. “I- it was really nice kissing you. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- we don’t have to, I promise.” You rush out. “I’m not going to pout or throw myself at you.” You promise him, sure that he thinks if you like one of those fans who would tear his clothes off just to say they slept with Dieter Bravo.

Dieter notices how mortified you are and it hits him that you aren’t trying to please him, you want to kiss him. That makes his stomach twist and his heart thumping so hard he swears you can hear it. He surges forward to press his lips to yours, “it was really nice to kiss you too.” He murmurs as he pulls away from the quick peck.

Giggling in relief, you can’t help but grin. “I’m sorry, I know I must seem like an idiot, I just- you’re really nice and this has been a good day.” You huff, a little self conscious before you lean in and kiss him again.

Dieter pouts and shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “not at all, baby. You have made this a perfect day. I want to go home, change into pajamas and make out.” He playfully nips your lower lip, “you ready to go?”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless and beam at him, feeling your stomach flutter and you wonder why he seems to affect you so much. You’ve been hit on by men but he seems to just make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush

Dieter is soon guiding you back to his car, eager to get home, and he opens the door to help you in before he rushes around to get in the car. “Let’s go home, baby.” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot, eager to get home and kiss you again.

The drive back to Dieter’s house is a lot quicker, both of you quiet as you watch the houses pass by. Biting your lip when you pull into the driveway, you look over at Dieter. “So I’ll change and meet you back downstairs?”

“Sounds like a plan, baby.” He grins, “go get changed.” He gets out of the car and quickly unlocks his house, eager to change into his own pajamas and settle on the sofa with you. He’s already half hard at the thought of kissing you, touching you.

You go back to the room that he had shown you to and change into your pajamas. You had packed some Christmas pajamas that would be perfect tonight, and you very purposefully take your bra off before you leave the bedroom and head towards the living room to meet Dieter there.

Dieter sits down on the sofa, eagerly waiting for you, and when you arrive in the festive pajamas, his breath is taken away. Shit, you look sexy even in those pajamas. “Come on baby, sit down. I thought we could watch Home Alone.” He pats the space beside him, eager to have you close.

“Home Alone is life.” You eagerly plop down next to him and throw your legs over his like you’ve done it a million times. “Always disappointed no one ever broke in at Christmas so I could wreck havoc. And that my parents weren’t rich enough to go to Paris.”

“What the fuck did his dad do to be able to afford to take all those people to Paris? Fuck, even I wouldn’t be that generous.” Dieter snorts and rubs your calves as the movie starts.

You bite back a moan at the way his fingers dig into the meat and muscle of your calves. “I don’t know, you’re pretty generous.” You compliment him, knowing that he’s been very generous with you.

“I guess I gotta get myself four kids to take on vacation to Paris and accidentally leave one behind.” He jokes, squeezing your calf and he can’t help but let his hand ride higher up, over your knee to your thigh.

“Four kids!” Your dramatic, wide eyed expression is absolutely to make him laugh and the warmth of it rolls over you when he does. “Good luck finding someone to have four kids. What happened to three? I think two would be my max.”

Dieter chuckles, “not if you get addicted to the sex.” He jokes, squeezing your thigh, “my oral can be very persuasive.” He sticks his tongue out and leans in to lick your neck, making your squeal and he chuckles against your skin until he stops, kissing your neck.

You have to remind yourself that this is a little scene for Dieter, he doesn’t really want you to have his kids. That would be crazy. Instead of lamenting that fact, you turn your head so your nose brushes his. “Hi.” You whisper with a grin.

Dieter grins, pulling back to look into your eyes, “hi.” He nudges his nose with yours. “Wanna make out?” He whispers and when you nod, he gently presses his lips to yours despite wanting to make out. He’s slow, cupping your cheek, and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

It’s juvenile to make out on a couch while a movie plays, but you love it. Moaning into his mouth softly while your tongues explore and you feel the familiar heat of arousal starting to burn in your core. Somehow, the two of you manage to end up horizontal on the sofa, you on top of Dieter surprisingly, and you are subtly rocking against him as you kiss.

Dieter caresses your back, his tongue moving with yours and his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer to him, grinding you against him. He groans into your mouth, enjoying the feel of you above him, and he lets you lead this, not wanting to go too far.

You whine, feeling the hardening bulge under you and pull away, gasping for air while you look down at him. “I- I don’t want this to- I want to have sex with you.”  You admit. “Not because I’m- but because I want you.”

Dieter grins, “yeah? You want me to fuck you baby?” He asks, kissing your jaw and down to your neck. “You want me to make you cum?” He questions, squeezing your ass again. He’s eager to get you naked, hear you moan his name.

“Yes.” You whimper, grinding down on his cock and rolling your hips. Just because you didn’t dance at the club didn’t mean that you couldn’t. You press your lips to his gently. “Take me to bed, Dieter.”

Dieter nods, playfully smacking your ass, and he lets you shift off of him. He doesn’t care about the movie playing as he guides you to his bedroom. It’s a huge en-suite with a king sized bed and he turns to you as he stands in front of it. “Let me fuck you.” He requests, his hands caressing your waist.

You smirk and start to lift your shirt over your head. “First I want you to find out what my cunt tastes like.” You demand, exposing your tits to his eyes and tossing the shirt down. “And I want to see if the cock shown in Blue Hypnosis was actually yours or a body double.”

Dieter smirks, stepping away from you and his eyes are fixed on your breasts. “Shit. I wanna-” He can’t help himself, surging forward and ducking down to suck on your nipple, biting and licking over the hardening bud and groaning as you reach down to cup him through his sweats.

“Fuck!” You hiss, loving the pain and pleasure from his tongue, feeling how eagerly he is sucking on your nipple. Like he is trying to feed from you. His cock twitches against your palm and you curl your fingers around him through the material. “Fuck baby, you’re hung.”

He grins against your breast, pulling back after a moment to look at you, “oh I know.” He winks and shifts to kneel down, hooking his fingers in your shorts. He pulls them down and groans at the sight of your lack of underwear and the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” Helping you step out of the shorts, he kisses your thighs before he stands up, “want you spread out on my bed.”

Rushing over to the bed, you lay down and spread your legs wide to let him see your already wet cunt. “Strip for me, Dieter.” You demand, loving the idea of watching him take off his clothes. “I want to see you.”

Dieter nods, shuffling back to pull his shirt off and he shoves his sweats down, exposing his thick cock, bobbing with heaviness and a bead of precum threatening to fall off of the tip. He’s cut and just long enough that you know you will feel him in your gut without it hurting. “Like the movie?” He teases, standing there in a pose.

You grin at the cockiness of the stance and have to admit he has a reason to be cocky. “I don’t know.” You tease, tilting your head. “It looks like you’re bigger than the cock in the movie.”

Dieter chuckles and winks at you, “glad to hear it. It’s yours baby.” He tells you as he kneels on the bed and he shifts into his stomach, kissing along your calf. He licks the space behind your knee as he shifts further up your body until he is sliding his tongue between your folds.

The gasp you give out is loud, even to your own ears. It’s been a long time since someone has licked your pussy and Dieter is unusually enthusiastic about it. Most men were very humdrum about it, viewing it as a chore or something to complete as quickly as possible. Not him, he spreads your legs wide and seems to settle down to explore with his tongue.

Dieter groans at the taste of you, his tongue diving deep and his fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them back so he can get even deeper inside of you. He loves eating pussy, one of his favorite pastimes if he’s honest, and he flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter closed as you try to ground yourself. You hadn’t expected this but you aren’t complaining. Not at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle through his curls and fisting into his hair. “Oh fuck baby, it’s so good.”

Groaning when you tug on his hair, making him nuzzle his face further into your cunt, and he sucks on your clit…hard. His hands slide under your ass, tilting your hips more so he can slide his tongue deeper inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit.

“Shit.” Your choked out cry is nearly strangled. You’ve never had a man who wanted to push his tongue inside you. Always saying that your clit it where he needed to be. “Oh dear God, how - how do you not do porn? You should.”

Dieter chuckles, pulling back for a moment to look up at you. “I nearly did before I got my big break as an adult. Nearly needed the money.” He spits, letting his saliva dribble onto your clit, and he lathes his tongue over your folds to spread his spit. He is desperate for you to cum, wanting you to moan his name loud and clear as he pushes his tongue back inside of you.

Shuddering at the fact that Dieter just spit on your cunt, you bite your lip and your hips jerk down roughly. You’re a little desperate at the way his tongue is curling and twisting inside you. “Fuck, oh fuck.” Your fingers tug on his hair as the knot of pleasure pulls tight inside you. “I’m gonna cum baby. Oh fuuuuuuuck!” You squeal, overwhelmed with how quickly it slams into you.

Dieter keeps his tongue buried deep as you clamp down around it, soaking his mouth and chin with your cum. He fucking loves it, lapping deep for get every drop while his nose continues to press against your clit. He works you through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm despite his cock throbbing and trapped against the mattress.

It seems to drag out forever. Wave after wave of pleasure making your thighs shake around his ears. Pressing them tight against his head until his groan vibrates through you.

Dieter works you through it, moaning when you tug on his hair to pull him away when it gets too much, and he kisses your clit one last time before he shifts to kiss your thighs as you relax them. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, needing to be inside of you. He is aching, leaking onto his sheets as he waits for you to tell him he can slide inside of you.

You nod, blissed out and you frown slightly when you remember one very important thing. “I- we need a condom.” You don’t trust anyone without a condom, the fact that you take birth control is not even factored in. It’s more about sexual health and preventing any STDs. 

Dieter nods. “I have one.” That makes you feel better because you didn’t bring any despite wondering if you should. You honestly hadn’t anticipated sleeping with him so you had left them at home.

Dieter shifts to hover over you, reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom, and he leans back on his haunches while he opens the foil packet and rolls the rubber down his cock. He pumps himself a few times, looking down at you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh with his other hand. 

“Fuck me.” You beg and he smirks, shifting to notch his cock at your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he groans at the way your walls are already squeezing him.

Your mouth opens on a long moan, head tilting back as he fills you. So much thicker and deeper than his tongue, you love that he is slowly sliding into you inch by inch until his pubic hair is grinding against your clit.

“Shit baby. You feel - shit you’re so tight.” Dieter hisses through his teeth, unable to believe how good you feel around him, squeezing him. He swallows harshly before he leans down to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding against yours when he begins to rock his hips.

Caressing his shoulder, you kiss him back eagerly, lifting a leg and wrapping it around his hip. Opening yourself up even more so he can work his way deeper into your cunt. “It’s- it’s because you have such a big- big dick.” You whimper, biting his chin when you pull away to speak.

Dieter grins, waggling his eyebrows as he looks down at you. “Glad you approve, baby girl.” He pecks your lips, pushing deep with slow, precise thrusts that make you give him the sweetest moans. He’s in no rush despite how horny he’s been for you, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to cum a couple of times before he does.

The rhythm is easy, no punishing pace that has you struggling to keep up. His strokes are sure and deep, but he isn’t chasing his own orgasm. Another surprise that has you rocking your hips up, enjoying the drag of his length against your walls and his lips against yours.

His hands squeeze your tits and he pinches your nipples, loving the way you gasp against his chin. “So fucking beautiful, wifey.” He teases, nipping your jaw and he kisses down your neck. Licking and sucking until he is taking your nipple into his mouth, biting down.

Walls clenching down around him, you moan again. Loving that he’s paying attention to your tits and mixing pain and pleasure together. He sucks harshly again and you hum. “Only for you honey.” You promise, playing along. “Need you to make me cum like only you can.”

Dieter loves how you play along, making him shudder as he rocks into you and he kisses along your sternum until he can press his lips to yours once more. He tilts his hips, trying to find the perfect spot to make you squeal.

Everything thrust pushes you up the bed slightly, making you bite your lip until that certain spot is hit with devastating accuracy. Making you cry out and sob his name when he pushes against it again.

“There it is.” He drawls, smiling as he focuses to hit that spot again. Your hand pressed against the headboard to stop your head from hitting it, and Dieter grabs your waist to keep you still. On his knees, he puts his force behind his thrusts as he focuses on that spot, needing you to cum for him.

Your other leg wraps around him and your hips and ass are lifted up off the bed as he fucks you. Every slam of his hips making you cry out, toes curling behind his back. It feels like he’s hammering into you with a battering ram and you fucking love it, your nails dragging down his arms and leaving red welts. “Fuck!” You squeal, body locking up and your vision going blurry as you soak him in your pleasure.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him groaning your name but he doesn’t cum. He grunts, caressing your hips, and he works you through it, not relenting his pace as he pushes you through it onto another orgasm. He is desperate to feel you cum again, desperate to make you stay here in his bed. “Shit. So fucking tight.” He hisses, working you through it.

His name becomes like a chant, a prayer dripping from your lips while his cock drills into you again and again. You hadn’t expected his stamina to last but you are thanking God or whoever is out there that it does. It’s wet, squelching, and you would be embarrassed of the fact that your pussy is being audaciously loud except for the fact that Dieter is loving it. Groaning and hissing as he rocks above you, saying ‘yes’ every time he hears it.

Dieter hisses, jaw clenched and he pulls out of you, making you whine. He flips you onto your stomach, straddling your thighs and he grips his wet cock, pushing back into you from behind and his eyes roll into his head at how tight you feel around him.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it, baby.” He groans, loving the way you cry out beneath him. He rocks into you, sweat beading on his forehead as he works himself deep into your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. “Such a good girl. So good for me. Wifey. My wifey gripping my fucking cock. Want her to cum again.” He smacks your ass, squeezing it before he smacks it again.

You whine, trying to push back against him. You know that he’s wearing a condom, you watched him roll it on, but you pretend he’s not wearing it. “Fill me up, baby.” You beg hun. “Want to feel it. Want my hubby to- to fill me up.” You don’t know if he would like that, but you’ll see.

Your words make Dieter whine but he desperately wants you to cum one more time. “Shit. You want me to paint your tight walls? Fill you up with my cum?” He plays along, “knock my wifey up?” He has always had a little breeding kink but he’s always been worried that one woman would take it seriously and he’d have a love child. He’s always been so careful but you make him want to throw everything out the window.

“Fuck yes!” Your own breeding kink roars to life. Any boyfriends you had thought it was weird since you didn’t actually want to get pregnant. They didn’t understand that the idea was hot, but you didn’t want kids with them. This was safe. “God Dieter, put your baby in me. Fuck, please, please, I want it.”

He growls, loving how you feed into his kink with your own desires. “Gonna do it. Just need you to cum. Cum for your husband. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up.” He promises, rocking into you hard and fast and he smacks your ass before he shoves his hand beneath you to rub your clit.

That rub against your clit pushes you over the edge. Turning your head, you press your mouth to his sheets and muffle your cry, even then it’s loud. Walls locking down around him and another hot rush of your cum coating him while every nerve in your body lights up and explodes in pleasure.

The way you clamp down on him has him wishing he could feel how wet you are as you cum but he is soon focusing on his own orgasm. He groans, rocking a few times into you, and he hisses, “gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Gonna knock you up.” He moans your name as he stills, burying his cock deep inside of you and filling the condom with his seed.

You whine when you feel him push deep, throbbing inside you although you don’t get the warmth that you would if he was actually filling you up. This is as good as it will get and it’s for the best. “So good baby, it’s so good.” Your eyes flutter closer and you smile when you lay your cheek against the sheet. “Fill me up, baby. Put that baby in my belly.”

Dieter pants, shifting so his body covers yours, and he groans your name as he twitches inside of you. “Fuck. You’re so good.” He groans, kissing your neck as he relaxes over you, keeping you pressed into the mattress.

“Hmmm.” You smile lazily, not minding the weight of him on top of you as you catch your breath. “I think I should be saying that to you.” You praise him. “Don’t think I’ve cum that many times in one go in a long time.”

Dieter grins, proud to hear you say that. “Gotta take care of my wifey.” He pulls out of you, gripping the condom, and he quickly removes it, tying it off and tossing it onto the nightstand before he lays down beside you, looking at your beautiful, blissed out face. He grins, happy to have this moment with you. “This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.”

You send him a smile with your eyes cracked open. His fingers stroke up and down your spine and you are about to start purring like a cat. “I’m glad honey.” You honestly are. “I am having a great time too.”

Dieter smiles, continuing to caress your spine, and when you hum and snuggle closer to him, he kisses you. Slow and soft, unhurried and he just enjoys being beside you. He is soon falling asleep - always does after an orgasm - and keeps you in his arms until after the clock strikes midnight. "Merry Christmas." You whisper to a sleeping Dieter.

****

Waking before he does, you slip silently out of the bed. Needing to pee but you don’t go to his bathroom, instead you make your way down to the guest bedroom you hadn’t slept in to do that and wrap his present before throwing on some clothes so you can get started cleaning up the kitchen from the night before and start making breakfast for you and Dieter.

Dieter wakes up to the scent of bacon and he groans, patting the bed but the spot you occupied is cold. He grunts and opens one eye, realizing it’s Christmas morning. “It’s Christmas.” He whispers to himself with excitement, looking forward to giving you the gift he had his assistant buy for you. He had picked it out, of course. After peeing and brushing his teeth, he pulls on a pair of boxers and makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking. “Morning wifey.” He coos, stepping behind you to kiss your neck, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” You turn in his arms and kiss his lips before you turn back towards the bacon so it doesn’t burn. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to cook you breakfast so we could eat it in front of the Christmas tree.”

Dieter caresses your hips, “mind? Baby, it’s perfect.” He promises, kissing your neck when you turn back to the stove. “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” He murmurs, knowing he’s paying you for this but he desperately wants you to be real, this to be real. He sighs, “I have a present for you too.”

“Dieter.” You tut and look over your shoulder to pout at him. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” Even though you have a present for him under the tree, he has done way too much for you already. “I have a present for you too.”

Dieter grins, “you didn’t have to do that baby.” He tuts and kisses your neck again. He steps back away from you and lets you finish cooking while he watches, wanting this situation every weekend. He wants you. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He groans when you set the breakfast down in front of him.

You move back over to his kitchen counter to pour up two cups of coffee. Not sure how he liked his coffee, you had made mocha with some of the peppermint chocolate that you had from baking cookies. You had melted the bits and put it in the sugar and creamer. “I enjoy doing things like that, but you are more than welcome.” You wink and drop a kiss on his lips before you sit down opposite him. “Merry Christmas.” 

Dieter grins as you sit down and he holds his mug up towards you, “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He winks and takes a sip of the coffee, groaning at the taste. “Shit, you’re too good at treating me.” He gestures to the breakfast and he knows it’s gonna be hard to go back to being alone.

“The day’s not over yet.” You remind him playfully. “We still have dinner tonight, beef wellington of course, and whatever else you want to do.” Most of the Christmasy activities you had managed to get packed into last night, so you could honestly do whatever. You just want him to have the experience he wants, not just for the money now.

Dieter smiles, “that sounds perfect. I want us to have a relaxing day. Maybe we can watch some more movies and…and I wouldn’t mind, uh, having you for dessert at some point today. If you’re not sore.” He adds, not wanting to push you. He only wants you if you want him.

You smirk, the soreness between your thighs just telling you that you had been fucked right the the night before. “Pillow fort on the floor in the movie room?” You ask with a wink. “We could do naked Christmas.”

Dieter smirks back at you, “I like the way you think.” He digs into the breakfast, moaning and groaning at the taste, and he doesn’t speak as he appreciates your cooking. “Best Christmas morning meal ever.” He compliments you when his plate is cleared.

“Thank you.” You don’t know exactly what he normally does for meals, but you just wanted him to enjoy his time and eat well while you are together. It doesn’t hurt that you love his kitchen and would spend all your time in there if you could. “I’m just going to clean this up if you want to get started on setting up the movie room? Then we’ll open presents? Or do you want to do that now?”

“I want to do it now. Leave the dishes. We can get to them later.” He tells you, reaching for your hand. “Get the presents, baby.” He gestures to the two presents under the tree. He can’t wait to give you the present he had purchased for you, excited to see the look on your face when you open it.

“I hope you know you didn’t have to do anything.” You feel bad, especially since he is paying you to be here. Although you think you’re going to tell him not to pay you the other ten thousand. It wouldn’t be right since you’ve slept together. The paper is beautiful and you pick it up and grin at him as you shake it slightly like a child.

Dieter chuckles, watching you as you carefully open the present to reveal the red box inside. “I- I wanted to get you something to remember me after we - after the holiday ends.” He confesses, reluctant to let you go but he knows you wouldn’t want to stay here with him after you get the money. You recognize the red box with gold etching and your hand shakes a little as you open it to reveal the bracelet inside. “I, uh, I had it engraved too.”

“Dieter- it’s too much.” You gasp, fingers brushing over the beautiful bracelet and you look up at him in awe. He can’t return it, it’s custom and you are blown away at the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s not.” He insists and you lean forward and press your lips to his. “Put it on me.” You demand, overwhelmed at his generosity.

Grinning, Dieter carefully takes the bracelet and opens it using the screwdriver, fastening it onto your wrist so it can’t be taken off. “It’s yours. No matter what, you are keeping this.” Dieter insists, kissing the back of your hand after the bracelet is secure on your wrist.

“Too kind.” You huff, kissing him again before you pick up the wrapped present you had decided on for him. It’s definitely not near as luxurious as his gift and you wonder if he will be disappointed in it. But what do you get a man who has what Dieter does?

He carefully takes the present, following your example as he carefully opens the paper. He takes the box and opens the lid, eyes widening at the sight of the book. He grins, “A Christmas Carol?” He takes the book out and opens the first page, seeing your writing, and he murmurs as he reads it, “to the best Christmas I’ve ever had with an amazing man.” You signed it and dated it and even though it’s simple, it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten for Christmas. “Thank you so much baby.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You sigh in relief that he does hate it, grinning against his lips. “Now that we’ve opened presents, let’s get ready to spend the rest of the day indulging in whatever we want.” You pull back and give him a dirty wink. “Be a good boy and I’ll even wash the dishes naked.” You tease, unable to resist kissing him again.

His cock twitches at your words and Dieter smirks at you, “oh I can be a good boy, sweetheart.” He chuckles and shifts to sit on the sofa, patting his lap for you to sit with him. “Come on, want a Christmas kiss from my girl.” He tells you, pouting his lips slightly.

There is something inherently vulnerable in the way that Dieter looks at you. Like he is halfway expecting rejection and seems surprised and pleased when you don’t do that. Instead you straddle his waist and grin as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Christmas kiss, huh?” You tease. “I guess it better be good.”

Dieter beams at the way you straddle him and he eagerly presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip before his hands squeeze your ass while you leisurely kiss him. There’s no rush, just enjoyment as you relish a Christmas kiss.

Humming, you could live in this kiss. Wanting to just swim in it forever. His earring is stupid and his hair unfairly soft, and you love the dumb tattoos on his arms, even more the ones on his thighs. Today you are going to explore them, do what you want to him this time.

Dieter kisses you several times, his hands rubbing your body, and he is content to just be in this moment with you. He loves how you feel, he loves how you sound, how you taste. Shit. He presses his lips to yours again, wanting to distract himself from his own thoughts.

There’s a change in the way that he kisses you. It becomes a little more desperate, needy and you wonder if he’s thought of something he doesn’t like. Especially the way that he’s not gripping you any tighter or trying to take it farther than the kiss. Instead of pulling away, you sink your fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp. “How about a Christmas soak in a tub before pillow forts and movies?”

“Sounds good baby. I have some bath bombs we can use.” He kisses along your jaw while you scratch his scalp and he groans at the feeling of your nails on his head. He reluctantly pulls back from you, smacking your ass. “Let’s get that bath ready.”

You give a small giggle and shake your head as you stand up. “I hope you have an amazing bathtub.” You grab his hand and help pull him up with a small grunt. “Want to luxuriate in a bath and maybe ride you if you want.”

“Jesus, you know how to spoil me baby.” He chuckles, guiding you into his room and through to the master bathroom so he can get the bath running. After setting the temperature, he searches for the bath bombs and throws a couple in, excited to get in there with you and see you naked again. You lean against the counter and he just stares, thinking that you’re fucking gorgeous.

Smirking, you see the way that his eyes are trailing up and down your body, seeming peering under your pajamas. “Someone wants a little strip show?” You tease, rolling your hips as you reach for the bottom of your shirt to pull it up to just under your breasts.

His eyes widen slightly and he nods, almost fast enough to make himself dizzy. “Please baby. Let me see you. I want to see you.” He is already hardening in his shorts just from the thought of touching you again.

You’ve stripped for exactly one other man. A boyfriend for a year that you found out was seeing your ex-best friend behind your back. You had seen the text messages between them and knew how they viewed you for working in a strip club so you had never done it again. But now, you feel good as you watch him nearly drool as you lift your shirt up to show him one breast.

“Don’t tease.” Dieter whines, “come on baby. Let me see you. Want to suck on your tits. Want to make you cum.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms while he waits for you to put on a show.

Biting your lip, you chuckle and slowly pull your shirt up over your head and whip it around your hand before you throw it towards Dieter. Cupping your tits and winking at him while you turn around and look over your shoulder, shaking your ass at him.

His chuckle turns into a groan as you put on a show, tossing the shirt he caught down on the counter behind him. “You’re so sexy. I’d say you’ve been wasted as a cocktail waitress but I would be lying because I’m happy only I’ve had the chance to see this, to see you like this.”

“You like this?” You coo, smirking at him and hooking your fingers under your pajamas pants and sashay your hips down and then back up. Teasing as you start to push them down slowly, almost a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Like it? Baby I love it.” Dieter watches you expose your ass to his eager eyes and he fucking loves it. Groaning your name, he watches you visually tease him and he reaches down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants.

It makes you feel incredibly powerful. This man, this Oscar winning actor could have models or starlets in his bed and he wants you, his cock is hard for you. You start twerking slightly as you bend over and let him see more, including where you are already soaked at the thought of fucking him again.

“Fuck.” He hisses, watching you with rapture, and he squeezes himself again, “you’re already wet.” He can’t believe how gorgeous you are, how sexy you are, and you’re wet for him. The bath is nearly run and he reluctantly pushes off of the counter so he can turn off the water, testing it with his hand.

“Of course I am.” You shake your head and pout at him. “You fucked me really good last night. Was it a fluke? Or because you were still a little high?” You notice that his eyes are dilated today and he’s sober. “How will it be today?”

Dieter shakes his head, pulling you close and his hands caress your waist. “I will make you cum. I - I am human so I’m not perfect every time but I’m sober today. I don’t want to be high because - because you alone make me happy. I want to feel you, I want to - to be in this moment with you.” He leans in to kiss your jaw.

“I like that.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back and wrap your arms around him again. “I’ve been enjoying this entire thing. All of it. You’ve been wonderful.”

Dieter kisses along your neck, “this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to leave.” He murmurs against your skin, his hands squeezing your ass as he pulls you even closer to his body until his hard cock is pressed into your hip. “Let me fuck you in the bath baby.”

“Un uh.” You shake your head and grin as you bite his chin. “I’m going to fuck you in the bath. Be a good boy and strip off and get in the water. I want to sit on your hard cock.”

Groaning, Dieter nods and shifts to step away from you. Putting on his own show as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and he tosses it down before shoving his shorts and boxers down in one move, his hard cock bouncing free. “Want you to fuck me.” He says, stepping into the large tub and groaning at the hot water.

Biting your lip, you remember the condom and look around. “Do you have a condom in here, baby?” You wish that you felt comfortable enough to go without, but you don’t know when the last time he got tested was. Especially since this wasn’t a permanent thing.

“Shit. Uh, yeah, in the third drawer down. We don’t have to have sex. I wouldn’t mind just making out if you aren’t comfortable.” He tells you, not wanting you to be pressured if you aren’t comfortable with fucking him in the bath.

“Not comfortable?” You frown, shaking your head and digging through the drawer to find the condoms. “Baby, the only thing that I wish is that you had a recent STD test so I could feel you bare. I want to fuck you and that amazing cock of yours.” It’s a surprising thought for you since you never do unprotected sex, but you want it with him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, “wait. I had one a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since because I’ve been filming. It’s on my phone.” He completely forgot about it, “we can still use a condom but I did have a test done. Just to assure you I’m clean.”

You bite your lip, gauging his honesty and deciding that you are going to take a risk. “I haven’t - I’m clean. It’s been a long time since I was with someone else.” You promise him. “And I’m on birth control.” You hold the condom up that you found and cock your head slightly. “Do you want to use it, or do you want to risk it? I want to- to risk it.”

Dieter stares at you, surprised that you are completely trusting him. He wouldn’t lie to you but some people would take advantage of your trust. You trust him. He would never betray that. “It’s not a risk when I trust you. I swear I’m clean. Get my phone and I’ll show you but I - I want to feel you. I want to cum inside of you.” The memory of last night with your breeding kink has him twitching under the water.

“I trust you. You’re trusting me too.” You remind him, sure that plenty of beautiful women have told him that they are on birth control and they aren’t, looking for an 18 year payout in child support. You toss the condom down and stride over to the tub to step in and sink down to your knees to straddle him in the large vessel. “You want to fill me up, baby?” You coo. “Plant your baby inside me for Christmas?”

Dieter groans, reaching out to grip your waist, and he loves that you are playing into the kink already. “Absolutely. Fuck, this time next year we could have a kid. You’d be pregnant for most of next year. Round and gorgeous.” He groans, watching your tits as you reach between you to grip his cock. “You need me to stretch that pussy out first?” He asks, caressing your hips.

“No.” You’re a little breathless, imagining that for real even though you know this is just role play. You two are not together and that is way too much responsibility for right now. “I want it to pinch.” You lift your hips up and notch him at your entrance. “I want to feel it sting.”

He hisses at your words, cock twitching in your grip, and he watches your face as you start to sink down onto his cock. “Fuck baby. Your cunt is so tight.” He closes his eyes for just a second before opening them so he can watch you. “Ride my cock. Make me fill you up so it takes.” He orders, his hands squeezing your ass once you’re fully seated on his length.

You whine softly at his words, grinding down and enjoying the way it feels like he’s deep in your guts. “Going to.” You promise, bracing your hands on the sides of the tub as you start to lift yourself off of him. “Gonna cum all over your cock first.”

Dieter groans, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth with his hands sliding up your back until one hand is squeezing your tit that his mouth isn’t attached to. “Gonna drink milk from these.” He tells you with a groan, “gonna - gonna watch them swell with milk.”

It’s embarrassing how sexy that sounds and you moan loudly. Biting your lip and tangling your fingers into his hair while you start to bounce on his cock. Every time his teeth scrap your nipple, your walls clench around him. “Yeah? You want to- to have me as your milk cow? Have fresh milk from- from the source?”

“Fuckkkkkk yessssss.” He hisses, “want to drink from you. Suck on your tits.” He thrusts up into you, making the water splash and he switches to your other breast, moaning at the feel of your tight cunt around his cock.

“Bad boy.” You gasp out, head tilted back in pleasure. “You- you’re supposed to let me ride you.” You remind him, even though you don’t mind it at all. It’s fun, this teasing and light banter during sex. A complete change up from normal sexual encounters.

Dieter loves you calling him a bad boy. “Damn. I know. I’ll be good.” He promises, “I’ll be a good boy for you, baby.” He vows, keeping his hips still as he kisses along your chest and neck.

You chuckle quietly, loving how desperate he kisses you and how he sounds. The thick drag of his cock inside you feels even better without the protective latex and you gasp loudly when he twitches inside you. “Oh fuck baby, look at that big dick inside me, feels so good. Only you can feel this good inside me. That big dick’s gonna fill me up, huh?”

“Fuck me.” Dieter groans at your dirty words, “fuck you are so good. So damn good to me. Feel incredible. Shit. This tight pussy feels so good without latex. So tight, hot and wet. Unbelievable. So Damn good. Want you to cum for me.”

“I’m going to, baby. Gonna scream so loud that the neighbors will hear.” Water is sloshing onto the floor but you don’t care, chasing that extreme rush that you get when you cum. Lifting yourself up to slam back down on his cock like you are riding a bucking Bronco. “Fuck baby, gonna cum!” You squeal.

Dieter watches you, your tits bouncing, and he is groaning your name. “Do it. Cum for me. Cum for me baby girl.” He demands, reaching between you to rub your clit.

Throwing yourself forward, your lips slot against his desperately while you come apart. Moaning his name against his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock and the harsh bouncing turns into desperate grinding.

Working you through it with his hand trapped between you, and he kisses you. Tongue sliding against yours and he’s not ready to cum yet. He waits until you have stopped shaking and he caresses your back, “good baby?”

“Yes.” You whisper, closing your eyes and smiling against his lips. “God, I don’t see how you are single.” You are so drunk on pleasure, you don’t even have a filter. “I’d refuse to let go of this if I had it. Not the money or whatever, but the sex. The way you make me feel.”

“Jesus. Me too. You feel so good. How - how are you single? You’re incredible. Perfect fucking wifey. Beautiful, sexy, kind. Cooks - cooks a mean fucking breakfast. Pussy tastes amazing. Jesus, those assholes who couldn’t accept your job are fools. You’re amazing.” He is also drunk on pleasure and he hasn’t even cum yet.

It almost hurts to start moving again, the head of his cock speared up against the most wonderful little spot inside you that there is a rush of liquid coating him when you move. “Shit!” You gasp out, eyes wide and you freeze, sure that he will think you just peed on him.

“Did you - shit - did you just squirt?” He asks, eyes wide and his cock twitches inside of you. “Fuck baby. Tell me.” He demands, his voice raspy as he leans back to look at you.

“I-I-“ you shake your head, unsure of yourself since you’ve never done that before. “I think? I didn’t- I know I didn’t pee.” You promise, feeling your face flame up, despite the fact that he is wide eyed. You aren’t sure of what he will say.

“Fuck thats so hot. Let’s try it again.” He grabs your hips, rocking you in his cock. “Tell me when we find it again.” He orders, thrusting up into you in different angles until you cry out his name.

It’s so sexy that he likes that. “Never- never don’t that before.” You gasp out, clinging to him as he frantically tries to recreate that moment. “Just with you, baby.”

He fucking loves hearing that, keeping his cock pressing against that spot again and again as he rocks you on his cock. “Want you to cum like that again. Want you to soak my cock, squirt on it, want you to squeeze it. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Yes.” You moan, leaning back and whine in pleasure when his tongue slides around your nipple again before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck, do anything for you, just keep touching me.”

Dieter doesn’t stop, keeping his tongue on your nipple, flicking over and over again and he thrusts up into you, desperate for you to cum again, to squirt again.

When he hits that spot again, the twist of pleasure makes you scream. Soaking him again while your thighs spasm around his hips and your walls squeeze his cock so hard you swear your will hurt him.

Groaning as you squeeze his cock hard, soaking him, and he throws his head back at the way you grip his cock. “Holy fucking shit. That’s so hot.” He gasps out, rocking up into you as much as he can and he hisses as he cums, unable to stop himself as he fills you up with his seed.

Now you feel it. The flood of warmth from his cum filling you and making you whine as he pumps you full. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter.” You stroke his chest and collapse against it, kissing his neck softly.

“God, I hope it takes.” Dieter murmurs, stroking your back as you lean against him. His cock twitches inside of you as he rides out his orgasm, lost in the haze of pleasure as you slump against him. “Fuck, I want it to take.”

It’s just role play. You remind yourself of that as you kiss his jaw up to his lips again. He is just feeding into the fantasy of this weekend. Sighing softly, you smirk as you lean back. “That was an even better Christmas present than my bracelet.”

Dieter chuckles, “yeah? My cock beats a Cartier bracelet?” He is pleased and amused to hear that. “You being here is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” He tells you, swallowing harshly and he dreads the moment you leave his house. He doesn’t care about the money, he cares about being alone again, about being lonely without you here. “Stay. Stay until the new year. I’ll triple the money.” He offers.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, they get so wide and you immediately shake your head. “No- Dieter, I can’t- holy shit.” You whisper. “I can’t take sixty thousand dollars from you.” You blow out a small sigh. “I- I can’t even take the other ten thousand.”

Dieter frowns, leaning back from you. “Why not?” He is hurt, upset that you don’t want to stay with him, even for the money. Have you truly hated being with him? Have you really despised him that much? Are you a better actor than him? All those insecurities threaten to drown him and he pushes you off of him, his cock falling from inside of you. “Fine. You don’t have to stay. You can leave now if you want.” He offers coolly, stepping out of the bath and he doesn’t even grab a towel as he walks into his bedroom to grab some clothes. He needs to get out of here, he can’t be around you if you’re just gonna leave him like everyone else.

You stare at the empty door for a moment, thoroughly confused by what the hell just happened. You were trying to tell him that you didn’t want money for spending time with him. You really loved being with him just because. Confused, you stand up and let the water out of the tub and wrap an oversized towel around your body before you leave to find Dieter.

Dieter is pulling on sweatpants when you enter the bedroom, making him freeze. “I’m going out. You can get your stuff and go. I’ll wire the money. I won’t break my word.” He promises you as he pulls on a t-shirt, his heart breaking that you want to leave.

“Dieter stop, please stop.” You reach out and touch his arm but he just jerks away from you like you disgust him. “Fine.” He obviously doesn’t want to talk. “I’ll leave, but I don’t want your fucking money.” You spit. “I’m going to wire the ten thousand back to you. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. Especially when I’ve loved every second of being here.” You turn around and walk out of his bedroom, biting your lip to keep from crying as you hurry down to the room he had set up for you.

Dieter pauses when you hurry down the hall and he frowns, wondering what you mean by that. Wanting to find out, he stomps down the hall and slams your door open. “What the fuck do you mean? You hated being here? That’s why you won’t stay, why you won’t take the money.” He explains what he is thinking and he hates how his eyes prick with tears of betrayal.

“What?” You’ve managed to get your leggings and bra on, tears on your cheeks obvious and you shake your head. “What are you talking about? I can’t take your money because it would be wrong. I am not letting you pay me sixty thousand dollars for doing something I would do for free.”

“Why the fuck would you do it for free? No one wants to be around me for nothing. No one wants me for me. I know it’s the money. Everyone wants a piece of me. I want to pay you to spend time with me. I don’t want you to leave. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I don’t even want you to go but I know you’ll get tired of me like everyone else does.” Dieter rages.

Your heart completely breaks for him, the defiant and confused expression on his face reminds you of a puppy who is left behind at a kennel, overlooked by potential families. Fuck, you always said you wouldn’t take on a fix’er upper and here you are. You shake your head and take a step closer, “Dieter, I don’t want your money. I promise you. I don’t want a piece of you, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Why?” Dieter chokes, a tear escaping his eye and he stubbornly wipes the tear from his cheek. “Why would - no one wants to just spend time with me. I’m not easy to deal with.”

“No you’re not.” You scoff. “You have not been rude or demanding once. You’ve asked permission to do anything and you are so grateful for anything that I do for you. That’s not difficult.” You step up to him and caress his cheek. “Could you be difficult? Sure, but so can I. I think you being in that club was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Dieter melts under your touch, “are you - seriously?” He asks and you nod, smiling at you. “I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in - in my entire life. I don’t want to give you up. I know you’re not mine but I want to see what happens. I just - you’re so beautiful and kind and you make me feel like a normal person, you make me feel like a normal man, not just an actor. I could easily fall in love with you.”

“Dieter, I wasn’t telling you that I didn’t want to stay.” You promise him. “I just don’t want you to pay me. I’ll stay here with you until the New Year like you want. I have to work but I will come back here after? If that’s okay?”

Dieter reaches out to cup your cheeks, “you want to stay?” He asks and you nod. He grins, unable to believe that you want to stay with him. “I don’t want you to go. You can work - I wouldn’t stop that - but I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t mind paying you but I want you to know that I haven’t felt like this before.”

“Are you- are you asking me to move in?” You ask, confused by what exactly he is wanting. Does he want you to stay for another week or forever? “I just want you to clarify.”

Dieter is confused by his own feelings, knowing that he is asking a lot of you. “I want you to stay until the New Year and if you want to stay, I’d like you to move in. I - I want to explore this - us - without the outside world ruining it. My fans, the internet…I want us to figure it out before I expose you to that bullshit. I think I could fall for you so stay…don’t go.” He pleads.

You bite your lip, frowning slightly. “You know that it will come out that I am a cocktail waitress at a strip club.” You feel that it’s only right to warn him but Dieter just scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah and I’ll tell them that’s where I met you.” 

You don’t know if you would want him to do that, but you do want to stay. “I’ll stay. We’ll figure out what we want to do. Together.”

Dieter surges forward to press his lips to yours, so pleased you are staying until the new year and you’re going to stay so you can figure out what you feel for each other. “Together.” He murmurs against your mouth. “Merry Christmas baby.” He sighs, pulling you close and he knows this has been the best Christmas he’s ever had. He knows that he’ll likely be in love with you by the new year and he desperately wants you to stay with him, be in his life. 

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him and he smiles, “best Christmas ever.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

https://www.wsj.com/us-news/education/luxury-beliefs-that-only-the-privileged-can-afford-7f6b8a16

‘Luxury Beliefs’ That Only the Privileged Can Afford

By: Rob Henderson

Published: Feb 9, 2024

In the same way that you don’t notice the specifics of your own culture until you travel elsewhere, you don’t really notice your social class until you enter another one. As an undergraduate at Yale a decade ago, I came to see that my peers had experienced a totally different social reality than me. I had grown up poor, a biracial product of family dysfunction, foster care and military service. Suddenly ensconced in affluence at an elite university—more Yale students come from families in the top 1% of income than from the bottom 60%—I found myself thinking a lot about class divides and social hierarchies.

I’d thought that by entering a place like Yale, we were being given a privilege as well as a duty to improve the lives of those less fortunate than ourselves. Instead, I often found among my fellow students what I call “luxury beliefs”—ideas and opinions that confer status on the upper class but often inflict real costs on the lower classes. For example, a classmate told me “monogamy is kind of outdated” and not good for society. I asked her what her background was and if she planned to marry. She said she came from an affluent, stable, two-parent home—just like most of our classmates. She added that, yes, she personally planned to have a monogamous marriage, but quickly insisted that traditional families are old-fashioned and that society should “evolve” beyond them.

My classmate’s promotion of one ideal (“monogamy is outdated”) while living by another (“I plan to get married”) was echoed by other students in different ways. Some would, for instance, tell me about the admiration they had for the military, or how trade schools were just as respectable as college, or how college was not necessary to be successful. But when I asked them if they would encourage their own children to enlist or become a plumber or an electrician rather than apply to college, they would demur or change the subject.

In the past, people displayed their membership in the upper class with their material accouterments. As the economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen famously observed in his 1899 book “The Theory of the Leisure Class,” status symbols must be difficult to obtain and costly to purchase. In Veblen’s day, people exhibited their status with delicate and restrictive clothing, such as top hats and evening gowns, or by partaking in time-consuming activities, such as golf or beagling. The value of these goods and activities, argued Veblen, was in the very fact that they were so pricey and wasteful that only the wealthy could afford them.

Today, when luxury goods are more accessible to ordinary people than ever before, the elite need other ways to broadcast their social position. This helps explain why so many are now decoupling class from material goods and attaching it to beliefs.

Take vocabulary. Your typical working-class American could not tell you what “heteronormative” or “cisgender” means. When someone uses the phrase “cultural appropriation,” what they are really saying is, “I was educated at a top college.” Only the affluent can afford to learn strange vocabulary. Ordinary people have real problems to worry about.

When my classmates at Yale talked about abolishing the police or decriminalizing drugs, they seemed unaware of the attending costs because they were largely insulated from them. Reflecting on my own experiences with alcohol, if drugs had been legal and easily accessible when I was 15, you wouldn’t be reading this. My birth mother succumbed to drug addiction soon after I was born. I haven’t seen her since I was a child. All my foster siblings’ parents were addicts or had a mental health condition, often triggered by drug use.

A well-heeled student at an elite university can experiment with cocaine and will probably be just fine. A kid from a dysfunctional home with absentee parents is more likely to ride that first hit of meth to self-destruction. This may explain why a 2019 survey conducted by the Cato Institute found that more than 60% of Americans with at least a bachelor’s degree were in favor of legalizing drugs, while less than half of Americans without a college degree thought it was a good idea. Drugs may be a recreational pastime for the rich, but for the poor they are often a gateway to further pain.

Similarly, a 2020 Yahoo News/YouGov survey found that the richest Americans showed the strongest support for defunding the police, while the poorest Americans reported the lowest support. Consider that compared with Americans who earn more than $50,000 a year, the poorest Americans are three times more likely to be victims of robbery, aggravated assault and sexual assault, according to federal statistics. Yet it’s affluent people who are calling to abolish law enforcement. Perhaps the luxury belief class is simply ignorant of the realities of crime.

Most personal to me is the luxury belief that family is unimportant or that children are equally likely to thrive in all family structures. In 1960, the percentage of American children living with both biological parents was identical for affluent and working-class families—95%. By 2005, 85% of affluent families were still intact, but for working-class families the figure had plummeted to 30%. As the Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam stated at a 2017 Senate hearing: “Rich kids and poor kids now grow up in separate Americas.”

In 2006, more than half of American adults without a college degree believed it was “very important” that couples with children should be married, according to Gallup. Fast-forward to 2020, and this number had plummeted to 31%. Among college graduates polled by Gallup, only 25% thought couples should be married before having kids. Their actions, though, contradict their luxury beliefs: Most American college graduates who have children are married. Despite their behavior, affluent people are the most likely to say marriage is unimportant. Their message has spread.

I noticed that many Yale students selectively concealed their opinions or facts about their lives. More than one quietly confessed to me that they were pretending to be poorer than they really were, because they didn’t want the stigma of being thought rich. Why would this stigma exist at a rich university full of rich students? It’s a class thing. For the upper class, indicating your social position by speaking about money is vulgar. Sharing your educational credentials is a classier shorthand, but broadcasting your seemingly altruistic and socially conscientious luxury beliefs is the best of all.

It is harder for wealthy people to claim the mantle of victimhood, which, among the affluent, is often a key ingredient of righteousness. Researchers at Harvard Business School and Northwestern University recently found evidence of a “virtuous victim” effect, in which victims are seen as more moral than nonvictims who behave in exactly the same way: If people think you have suffered, they will be more likely to excuse your behavior. Perhaps this is why prestigious universities encourage students to nurture their grievances. The peculiar effect is that many of the most advantaged people are the most adept at conveying their disadvantages.

Occasionally, I raised these critiques with fellow students or graduates of elite colleges. Sometimes they would reply by asking, “Well, aren’t you part of this group now?” implying that my appraisals were hollow because I moved within the same milieu. But they wouldn’t have listened to me back when I was a lowly enlisted man in the military or when I was washing dishes for minimum wage. If you ridicule the upper class as an outsider, they’ll ignore you. The requirements for the upper class to take you seriously—credentials, wealth, power—are also the grounds to brand you a hypocrite for daring to judge.

But negative social judgments often serve as guardrails to deter detrimental decisions that lead to unhappiness. To avoid misery, I believe we have to admit that certain actions and choices, including single parenthood, substance abuse and crime, are actually in and of themselves undesirable and not simply in need of normalization. Indeed, it’s cruel to validate decisions that inflict harm. And it’s a true luxury to be ignorant of these consequences.

Rob Henderson is the author of “Troubled: A Memoir of Foster Care, Family, and Social Class,” which will be published on Feb. 20 by Gallery Books.

[ Via: https://archive.today/FAksi ]

[overthinkingtaleblr]

(I haven’t kept up with vt or pie in a while) but I think I remember something about Toast having a alcohol problem? Mainly whiskey if I remember correctly?

What do the others think about it when Toast is drinking or perhaps even drunk? How do they react?

See it’s something I don’t particularly like to think about because it’s so… real? Alcoholism is a very different problem than ghosts and unrealistic drugs, and it’s a problem I can happily say I’ve had no experiences with. The downside is that I’m not entirely certain how it specifically works, and I run the risk of making a serious issue into a joke or overdramaticizing it… all of that being said, I can try to give my own two cents, just know that I barely understand why people drink to begin with outside of social pressure or addiction. So i guess.. trigger warning, everything’s under the cut.

Toast does have an alcohol problem, and I do think whiskey specifically was said to be his drink of choice. By the time most of the videos take place, he does seem to be drinking much more responsibly, but we do hear sometimes about how much of a problem his alcoholism used to be. I do think he is accused of being or seeming drunk in some videos, so there’s a chance he hasn’t fully finished his sobriety journey, but I don’t think we see him go on a ‘bender’ until Kind Of the Retirement Arc… but i do think of him as a very depressing drunk. Like he weeps openly hunched over the bar looking a mess and stuff.

Long story short, Ghost leaving was a catalyst that led Toast to drink excessively again. I say this because we do see Spooker and Colon react to it and they’re a little uncomfortable. Toast does not seem to be capable of drinking copious amounts and still have the ability to help at PIE the next morning. As I remember it, he’s a wreck, completely unable to help and not even trying. Therefore, I don’t think Colon or Spooker would be either comfortable with Toast’s drinking, or even know how to help him. They’d both understand that him consuming the alcohol is out of grief and trying to numb himself… and a lack of coping mechanisms, but neither of them can relate so this experience of his is very alien to them both. So, they only just leave him to his wallowing, putting the company before the founders to ensure lives can continue to be saved.

Colon gives me the vibes of someone who would drape a blanket on him while he’s asleep in an area he shouldn’t be sleeping, clean up bottles he left behind, help him out with hangovers, etc. It’s kind, but he knows it isn’t enough to fix the problem. He doesn’t really talk to Toast when he drinks because he isn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t possibly encourage him to do it more. He’s trying to act as the leader of the team while the bosses are out of commission and it’s really rough when the official leader is a grieving mess.

Unlike Spooker, who is too confused to be really helpful right now. Spooker joined the team while Toast was in jail for arson, I believe, so he’s seen a team function without Toast. He was there when Ghost disappeared for the puppet arc, so he was there to see Toast manage the team without Ghost. Now Ghost is gone again and Toast is… self-medicating? For some reason? He severely underestimated how badly Ghost leaving would affect him, and doesn’t understand what the difference is between then and now. This is also part of the reason why he ignores Ghost’s boundaries and tries to get him to rejoin the team. He thinks Toast’s behavior is sudden, surprising, and uncharacteristic.

Ghost has been with Toast since the problem started, and I imagine he takes it way more seriously than he lets on. I do think Toast’s relationship with alcohol has always been a little. Bad. Toast has had a pretty understandable reason to desire self-medication for a long time. He went through a lot as a kid, left his family, and lost his wife, returned to his family, and lost his best friend multiple times before he was thirty. He’s experienced a lot of death and clearly is better at helping others than himself, and Ghost knows all of that. He’s been with Toast thsi whole time. I think he tried his best to help Toast out after Mary died, and i think he was a good help, but because of Toast’s actions during the puppet arc, i think he thought Toast wouldn’t have a problem if he left the team forever. I think the team was able to get Toast help Before Ghost re-joined, but I also think Ghost gave them some advice.

His siblings are also a bit worried about it. And yeah.

[bucknastysbabe]

Candy - Talk Talk

Rating: Mature

A/N: Be warned this is my projection of being in active alcoholism. But make it a songfic and interpret past shitty relationships. Shit warps your reality, thoughts, perceptions. Basically a lot of slipping into alcoholism is a slow slide triggered into GO TIME by an emotional/traumatic or even euphoric event so def not fic Bucky’s fault. Very unreliable narrator. Sequel of sorts to Tommy’s Party

Tags: TW ADHERE!! sui ideation, explicit descriptions of withdrawals, alcoholism and alcohol abuse, toxic relationships, depression, delusional thinking, drug abuse, just dreadful really

This sure is some kind of party. It's so useful. Surrounds my life with excuses. For what I choose to lose.

You knew this was stupid. So stupid. Wanda had tried to persuade you to go to another party that didn’t include your roommate cum ex-boyfriend. But nope. You were drunk already and wanted to feel something— whether that be chaos, pain, or the gentle caress of oblivion.

The parties masked the pain of living with the man you still loved. The man who had clearly moved on with new flings every week. You drank and danced to find an excuse to not think think fucking think all the damn time.

You don’t have to wonder what you did wrong with a stomach full of booze and nose full of adderall. Kept you in the moment. Therefore if you went out every night with the ‘wrong crowd’ that was your problem. The rest of day you could spend hungover and sleeping away your amounting problems.

And my name. Doesn't look the same to me.

Your advisor had sent you to a counselor because of your plummeting grades. The lady asked if you were depressed. “No, just tired,” you lied.

“How much do you drink a week?”

Once.

You were fine as long as you had your new lover. Although he was consuming you, transforming you into something better, freer, no cares in the world. The girl you always wanted to be. The one who stared back at you with glazed eyes and reddened cheeks in the mirror was a different person. Thank god.

And inside, don't you know I feel so bad.

Bucky pulled you aside the other day, his stupidly handsome face all wrought with concern. He gripped your shoulder, pretty pink mouth trembling, pissed, “What’s happened to you? You’re throwing your life away.” You shoved him away, hissing, “Since when did you care? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks. Just leave me be I’m fine.”

He trembled in anger, throwing up his hands. Bucky tried to stay level but ended up shouting, “I do care! It’s fucking hell watching you poison yourself and run with those,” he bit his lip and paused, “Those alpha fucks.”

You stared at him blankly. There was a fifth behind your bed. Walking to your room you said over your shoulder, “It’s only okay for you when everything’s perfect.”

You heard something get thrown, vodka dripping down your heaving throat.

Candy, when I tried to turn away. To feel new again.

You shoved Brock off your shaking frame. He was out cold. You needed something. Stop the shakes, sweaty shivers wracking your body. Now. Bucky had some whiskey hidden away in the kitchen. He was out the door when Brock came in, a look of disgust on Buck’s handsome face. Twisting and marring it.

Good.

Less he was around the more you could indulge. Blocking our reality was hard when someone who made you want to do better was confusing. Brock was a dick, he made it easy.

My emotion cost me pain. Did I look the same? When I think about the times that I laughed away the idea you'd cheat me.

There was nothing in your room. Nothing in the apartment. No fix. Your brain was screaming at you, skin crawling uncomfortably. The air was too hot, too cold, you didn’t know. All your money was spent until next week.

“You need help, I can’t take it anymore, I poured it out,” came his shaky voice.

You turned to glare at your former love, eyes manic and red rimmed. Your mouth was so, so dry. Stalking toward Bucky you weakly shoved his broad chest, croaking, “Why the fuck would you do that? The fuck is wrong with you?” Your head erupted into a pang of pain, wincing.

Bucky grabbed your shoulders, shaking, pleading, “C’mon, I have some Powerade, we can watch movies and try to relax like old times.”

You trembled in place with anger and the onset of delirium tremens. Bucky searched your sunken eyes, fear lacing his features. Why couldn’t he just move away and leave you alone. You thought he’d bolt by now. With a ragged sob you replied, “I never thought you’d enjoy seeing me in pain so much.” You crumpled, he held you, repeating he didn’t like to see you in pain.

He sat by your side for a little that night. But the liquor was back in your cup. He told you he was gone if you didn’t stop. The idiot had been gone since he deemed your relationship too ‘isolated’.

Bucky didn’t end up leaving, hovering like a nursemaid. Maybe there was a way.

But look again, what do you say? 'That's my name.’

Bucky stayed around, trying to wean you off. Spring break. What a bust. You couldn’t keep anything down. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if oblivion would be better. He irked you, made hatred boil up, something that was so pure had been blackened. You were too weak to go get your own shit, but he probably took your money too.

Bucky sat next to you on the couch, big hand on your elbow. You spat, “What? Come to wallow in my misery like a pig in shit?” He sighed, gritting his jaw. The brunette asked, “Do you not see a problem here?” You didn’t like the way his heavy brows pinched, made your heart ache.

You turned to face him, face close up, Bucky’s eyes darting to your lips. Breath fanning against his slack jaw you rasped, “The problem is you aren’t seeing me. Never have. Too clingy, too wild, too drunk.” You nipped his lip roughly, growling, “Did’ja only like me when you were fucking me?”

Bucky pulled back, breath hitching. He stood up abruptly, yelling, “What the fuck are you even talking about? I love you!” His blue eyes were watery. He croaked, “I mean who even are you anymore baby?” Your throat tightened. Fuck fuck fuck you needed booze.

AND I HOPE THAT I'VE KEPT YOU AMUSED

TO WIPE THAT SPIT RIGHT OFF MY BOOTS

Lies. Bucky was lying. Your brain whispered darkly, manipulating anything that might’ve been coherent though. He was bootlicking, appealing to that little soft part in your heart. Just enough to keep you on that string for his twisted amusement. You dialed Brock.

“Pick me up, bring a roadie stat.”

And when I'm home and thinking in the dark. I hope that none of this has had to go too far.

When it gets too late. To see me any other way.

He moved out a month later. Finally, your thoughts cheered. But why did it still hurt even when plastered on the ground? Bucky left a scathing note. You cried until your nose bled after. Fucking idiot, that’s your name.

‘Get help because I’m not going to see you lifeless in a coffin. Don’t contact me until you’re sober.’

Maybe you should get sober. But wasn’t this your plan? Run off the ones who really cared? Make Bucky hate you because it was easier than knowing he chose to leave you. Wanda even cut you off, Steve left a flyer for AA on your porch.

You took another swig.

Atleast you had this. The only thing within your grasp.

And it gets so hard to hold on. To everything that I want so bad.

[vicsy]

First Lines

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

I was tagged by @boxboxbrioche and @welightitup. Thank you ❤️

I'm pretty sure first lines of my fics tell you nothing but I love an opening that is sort of confusing and maybe even too short? Have at it!

green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine)

The club scene rarely changes. Expensive alcohol flowing, people dancing deliriously and drugs that haven’t even hit the market yet — only the good shit that makes the cash, gets more influence out on the streets and less competition to worry about. It’s been like that for years, save for a couple of unprofitable ones that are long in the past, some serious skeletons in the closet and a fair share of spilled blood. 

hold down, rewind

Time is a flat circle or whatever shit people keep saying on the internet; Daniel doesn't really keep up with the buzz, can't grasp the full meaning of it even if he tried amidst the turmoil of his homecoming. And yeah, everyone keeps calling it that.

wish you away in my dreams

Waking up feels like swimming through molasses. Some nightmares end just like that — not with bolting upright on a bed, gasping for air, heart pounding with horror. 

evocatio

“What do you mean you are not coming?”

little flame, consume my hate

“I still cannot believe that father– ow, by the gods, are you trying to strangle me with this contraption?” Chloe’s voice sounds strangled and annoyed. There is more rustling before she speaks again. “Who invented these blasted corsets? Should chop their hands right off.”

shatter my life apart (see me for somebody else)

It’s in the way every living soul keeps patronizing him. 

your smile, so bright (i want to save that light)

It’s not a lie, per se.

I'm gonna go ahead and tag @mysticalbreadcollective @waddlingpenguin @lydia-petze and @river-ocean. No pressure!!

[learningnewways]

Village Visits

Another day, another village visit! Destiny Rescue do a lot of preventative and follow up work, which means lots of visits to girls homes in their villages. Some of these are girls who they have rescued or helped to leave the sex work industry, some are rape cases, and some are prevention for girls who haven’t been exploited yet, but are vulnerable and at high risk. This could be because of family circumstances, poverty, lack of education or other reasons.

So how do the team find the girls they work with? If they have been trafficked or are underage and in sex work, often they will be found through undercover operations such as working with local police or going into bars and massage parlours pretending to be customers. Once they get the girls alone, they can explain who they are and offer to help get the girls out. A lot of the other work is done in villages or by girls passing the team information to their friends. The team have workers who go into villages and talk to girls and families, as well as village chiefs, building a better picture of who is must vulnerable, often interceding before the girl ends up in the sex trade.

We visited a teenage girl the team has been working with for awhile, this time at her workplace. She works in a sewing shop, sewing handmade items. The team explained that she only makes money if she sells something. Other days she won’t make any money because she won’t be selling anything. Typically people come to the shop, choose the material and style, then she makes it for them. It might take a day or two to make an item, which she would receive maybe $3-5NZD for. Because like many others living in poverty, her income is uncertain, the team sometimes provides money or brings groceries to help out. They follow up with girls very regularly at the beginning when they first meet, depending on their circumstances, but as time goes on and the girls make good progress, they can follow up less frequently. However it’s amazing to know they still visit girls and their families years later, so they can show they still care and can support if circumstances change.

A few days ago we visited another teenage girl at her home in the village, which was the first time the team had met the girl in person. The team had been working with her friend who told us about her. This girl lives on the same property as her uncle and nephews/nieces, who she helps look after. Her parents work far away so they are not around to take care of her physical needs, let alone her emotional needs. The girl was very depressed with very low self esteem and self worth. Her parents have left her, people at her school don’t like her, and she is struggling to survive. Luckily, the team were able to encourage and pray with her. They were able to practically help with financial aid, but also with emotional and spiritual support. This girl needs people in her life to show up and show her she is loved and cared for.

Being able to pray for her with the team was really special. Not all those the team helps become Christians, but many do. It is an amazing witness and opportunity to share the gospel, give practical help, and show them they are loved beyond measure. Many of the girls ask the team why? Why do they do this work? Why do they love them and support them, when they don’t even know them? Because Jesus first loved us. The team aren’t just telling the girls that God loves them, they show it every day in their work.

It reminds me of volunteering with Red Frogs, a Christian organisation that demonstrates God’s love for young adults and builds connections by giving out pancakes, water and red frog lollies at big events, in town at nighttime, in university halls...etc. I was helping out with Red Frogs after Bay Dreams in Nelson this year, which is a big music festival where lots of alcohol and drugs are consumed. We set up in town where everyone was heading to party the night away and we gave out free pancakes and water. It was amazing watching people’s responses, they couldn’t believe we were giving out food for free. Why would someone do that? Why would we volunteer our time at 2am in the rain to feed intoxicated people? Because Jesus loves them. And we got to tell them about a love that calls us to action, to love others. It was that simple.

When we do something for others from the genuine love in our hearts and genuinely expect nothing in return, people don’t know how to respond! People aren’t used to it! I think as Christians, the more we understand and know God’s love for us, the more we want to help others, without an agenda. What if we just loved people and didn’t expect them to come to our church services in return? Or to listen to our gospel message or take home a pamphlet? What if we just lived out the gospel? Showed others we genuinely love them and care, and wait for them to ask why?

[bisluthq]

The majority of "normal" people might not do hard drugs every weekend… //

I didn’t mean that as an insult?? I said “normal” because I find not doing hard drugs to be the “norm”. I don’t know why you’re offended over me saying “normal” people don’t do drugs but also talking about how sad it is that hard drugs are normalized in the party scene? I was also using “normal” as the opposite of “people who are into that whole Charli vibe”, because in my opinion, most people aren’t constantly partying/into the party scene.

For what it’s worth, I’m also from Europe and I know there’s a huge problem with drinking here, most people I knew were drinking by 14, but I haven’t found drugs to be as normalized. I also have a cousin that lives in a different country who has a drug addiction that didn’t start from partying and that led to him stealing a motorcycle, getting shot by the police and now being paralyzed from his waist down.

So yes, I know how easy it is for people to become addicted to substances and I understand that they’re very common in the party scene. But my whole point was that most people aren’t in the party scene and that not everyone who goes to a club or to a music festival is doing 10 different drugs in a weekend. That’s what’s not normal? I don’t know why that is an offensive thing to say?

I’m not one of those people who say Euphoria is completely unrealistic because I know that that’s the experience of some teens, but I’m not going to pretend that’s the case for most people because it isn’t. Most people aren’t doing ketamine on the weekends, it’s not and it shouldn’t be normal. That doesn’t mean I look down on people who have or used to have an addiction, which is what you seemed to be implying throughout your whole message.

Being offended because I said doing hard drugs isn’t normal while also saying the normalization of drugs is a problem is something that only happens on the internet

I didn’t take what you said as an insult - assuming you maybe read the other anon that way? Idk if that anon meant it that way. Sorta doubt it but also just to clarify my stance on this: I’m very sure it’s not “normal” lol and I think many, many people go clubbing and only consume alcohol (or even don’t really consume much alcohol) but idk man drugs, IN MY EXPERIENCE, haven’t really been in the Charli scene or in Euphoria. I also know damn well I don’t really look like someone who’s done a bunch of drugs and I mean I really don’t often but like… I have because I’ve been in spaces where that’s the vibe and they haven’t really been Charli kinda people doing them. I do acknowledge though that I have lived and pretty much continue to live - in my Annie Grace/self care/health era and all but lbfr besties - a very hedonistic life and yea that’s probably not statistically speaking that normal. But also like when I go to hang out with friends more often than not people have lived similar lives and I get that like attracts like and it’s mostly creative, childfree women with disposable income so that skews shit but idk man. Idk. Even my friend who isn’t at all artsy, she’s actually in property, is like in recovery for a ❄️ addiction (still drinks like a fish lol but she stopped yk sniffing shit and she has a very very demanding and intense job). My doctor friend no longer does anything except alcohol and minimal amounts of that really but she did other shit in uni.

I think if I hung out more with like friends who have kids maybe it’d be different idk? I have a few old (in length of friendship not age lol all my old in age friends are heeectic) friends that I think haven’t really done many or any drugs and don’t drink much overall but I don’t hang out with them that much. I’ve made some sober friends recently through a sober women’s group I joined and obviously they are, by definition, sober now but they also obviously because of the kinds of people who join sober groups were not historically speaking. So yea look my lived experience is gonna skew to a point where I’m like… yea man I could’ve fallen off a balcony at some stage with a bunch of random ass shit in my system and I don’t have a drug problem and “only” do drugs like a few times a year or so but it could’ve happened. Didn’t. But could’ve.

Liam obviously did have a problem but like it could’ve happened to someone who doesn’t because he was partying yk not trying to unalive himself. And he fell off a balcony, he didn’t OD. He could’ve and would’ve survived the drugs, but he didn’t survive the dumbassery (respectfully).

[tallmantall]

James Donaldson on Mental Health - 'Alcohol can exacerbate underlying mental health issues': Alcohol use linked to suicide and self-harm, studies find

The study showed that — of people who took their own lives in Cork for whom toxicology reports are available — 50.8% of people under 25 years, 48% of those aged 25 to 54, and 24.1% of those aged 55 or over had alcohol in their system. AMY CAMPBELL ALMOST half of people who died by suicide in Cork had alcohol in their system at the time, a newly published report by the Health Research Board shows. The report, titled ‘Alcohol: availability, affordability, related harm, and policy in Ireland’, published yesterday, looks at the link between suicide and alcohol. It found that younger people who took their own life were more likely to have alcohol in their system. The study showed that — of people who took their own lives in Cork for whom toxicology reports are available — 50.8% of people under 25 years, 48% of those aged 25 to 54, and 24.1% of those aged 55 or over had alcohol in their system. One person affected by the issue, who wished to remain anonymous, told The Echo: “In the end, my breaking point was something very small, but I had been drinking for days and was beginning to sober up and everything I had to do that day just seemed impossible. “At the time, I didn’t see another way out. I knew I couldn’t continue drinking the way I was or I was going to lose my job, my home, and all my family and friends.” “I hadn’t felt happiness when I was sober in a long time, so I didn’t want to live without alcohol, but I knew it couldn’t go on like this much longer either, I knew that there was even more pain in the future if I did,” they said. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth If you'd like to follow and receive my daily blog in to your inbox, just click on it with Follow It. Here's the link https://follow.it/james-donaldson-s-standing-above-the-crowd-s-blog-a-view-from-above-on-things-that-make-the-world-go-round?action=followPub “Luckily, I did not succeed in taking my own life, and it served as something of a wake-up call, though I had a difficult few months still to face after that, I emerged from it and haven’t had a drink in over a year. “The dark thoughts went away when I stopped drinking, I haven’t thought about suicide once since getting sober, and before it was a constant thought, it was always in the back of my head as a last resort in case things got too bad, it was almost comforting. “Now, I see how messed up that thinking was.” The report by the Health Research Board cites a study which examined 307 cases of suicide that had occurred in Cork, where toxicology was available for 298 of the 307 cases. In 141 of those cases, alcohol was detected in the toxicology, with young people far more likely to have consumed alcohol prior to their deaths. The study showed that among the 298 cases, 50.8% of people under 25 years, 48% of people aged between 25 and 54, and 24.1% of those aged 55 or over had alcohol in their system. It also showed that where the information was available, a history of alcohol or other drug abuse was noted in 61% of the suicide cases. Mick Devine – Clinical Director of Tabor Group, who oversees two alcohol treatment centres in Cork, told The Echo: "Studies have shown that individuals struggling with alcohol abuse or dependence are at a significantly higher risk of suicidal thoughts and behaviors compared to the general population. "Alcohol can exacerbate underlying mental health issues such as depression and anxiety, which are major contributors to suicidal ideation. "It's important to note that while alcohol can significantly elevate the risk of suicidal ideation and attempts, not everyone who struggles with alcohol use will experience suicidal thoughts. "However, addressing alcohol misuse is crucial in suicide prevention efforts, as reducing alcohol consumption can alleviate some of the risk factors associated with suicidal behavior and improve overall mental health and well-being." A link between alcohol and self-harm was also found in another study on Cork in the same report, which examined 8,145 cases of emergency department presentations of self-harm in the county. It found that “alcohol was involved in 21% of the self-harm presentations, although the study authors noted an under-recording of alcohol use in case notes”, meaning that the figure is potentially higher. “It is common for people to drink to try to relieve the symptoms of poor mental health, but drinking can also lead to poor mental health,” notes the report. “Alcohol is a depressant; it causes chemical changes in the brain and can lead to anger, depression, or anxiety. “It also affects the brain by slowing down the processing of information, making it more difficult to make logical decisions.” Read the full article

[plumcreekrecovery]

Why Should I Go to Drug Rehab and Alcohol Rehab?

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably heard, or seen, or read a lot of arguments about why you should go to rehab. You’ve probably heard too many arguments to count. And if you’re on the fence, you should stop reading this blog right and now and…just…go. Go to rehab. You already know all of the arguments about why you need to make a change. All you need is a push. So please, consider this your push to get drug detox or alcohol detox. To get residential treatment. To get help with drug rehab and alcohol rehab.

I mean seriously…just…get…help. But for those of you who haven’t gotten drug rehab or alcohol rehab, you probably already know the positive case for drug rehab. In this blog, we’re going to focus on the negative case. Because even though the best reasons for going to drug rehab are what you get from drug rehab, the second best reasons are what happens if you don’t. And, spoiler alert: none of them are good.

Is addiction good for you? 

I know you know the answer to this question. But just because you know the answer doesn’t mean that you don’t need to ask yourself the question. Because the only way you can rationalize not getting help is by pretending that the question doesn’t exist. 

You already know the answer. But for those who need to see the answer one more time, here it is. Long-term alcohol abuse and drug abuse can have severe and detrimental effects on both physical and mental health. It’s important to note that the specific consequences may vary depending on the substance abused, the duration of abuse, and individual factors. On those lines, the problems may vary. But the simple and true fact of the problem itself is always, always, always real. And they always end the same way. Death.

There’s also recovery with drug rehab and alcohol rehab. But that’s a different blog. 

The physical side effects of addiction without drug rehab

Liver Damage: Chronic alcohol abuse can lead to liver diseases such as fatty liver, alcoholic hepatitis, and cirrhosis. Certain drugs, especially those processed by the liver, may also contribute to liver damage. Alcohol rehab in particular can prevent this.

Cardiovascular Issues: Both alcohol and certain drugs can affect the cardiovascular system, leading to conditions such as high blood pressure, heart disease, and an increased risk of stroke.

Neurological Damage: Prolonged substance abuse can have negative effects on the brain, resulting in cognitive impairment, memory loss, and decreased mental function. Certain drugs may also contribute to neurological disorders.

Respiratory Problems: Smoking drugs or using substances that affect the respiratory system can lead to respiratory issues, including chronic bronchitis and lung damage.

Weakened Immune System: Substance abuse can weaken the immune system, making individuals more susceptible to infections and illnesses.

Malnutrition: Alcohol and drug abuse can interfere with proper nutrition, leading to malnutrition and deficiencies in essential vitamins and minerals.

Gastrointestinal Issues: Chronic substance abuse, particularly alcohol, can cause gastrointestinal problems such as gastritis, ulcers, and pancreatitis.

Hormonal Imbalances: Substance abuse can disrupt the normal functioning of hormones, leading to various issues, including reproductive problems, irregular menstrual cycles, and changes in sexual function.

Increased Risk of Injuries: Impaired judgment and coordination due to substance abuse can increase the risk of accidents and injuries.

Tolerance and Dependence: Long-term use of certain substances can lead to tolerance (needing more of the substance to achieve the same effects) and physical dependence, which can result in withdrawal symptoms when the substance is not consumed.

The mental side effects of addiction without alcohol rehab

Cognitive Impairment: Substance abuse, particularly of drugs and alcohol, can lead to cognitive impairment, affecting memory, attention, and overall cognitive function.

Mood Disorders: Substance abuse is often linked to mood disorders such as depression and anxiety. Chronic use can exacerbate pre-existing mental health conditions or contribute to the development of new ones.

Psychosis: Some drugs, especially hallucinogens and stimulants, can induce psychotic symptoms such as hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia. While you’re probably familiar with the famous “epiphanies” and “ego deaths” that follow “trips”, the reverse is just as common. Drug Induced Psychosis, both short and long-term, can leave you with devastating damage done to your mental health. 

Increased Risk of Suicide: We hate to talk about it. But we hate what would happen if we didn’t. Substance abuse is associated with an increased risk of suicidal ideation and suicide attempts. Depression and hopelessness may be exacerbated by the effects of certain substances.

Behavioral Changes: Substance abuse can lead to changes in behavior, including impulsivity, aggression, and impaired judgment. Individuals may engage in risky behaviors that they wouldn’t otherwise consider.

Social Isolation: The impact of substance abuse on relationships, work, and social activities can lead to social isolation. Individuals may withdraw from family and friends, contributing to feelings of loneliness and alienation.

Decreased Motivation: Prolonged substance abuse can lead to apathy, loss of interest in previously enjoyable activities, and a general decrease in motivation.

Personality Changes: Substance abuse can alter an individual’s personality, leading to shifts in temperament, values, and priorities.

Co-occurring Disorders: Many individuals with substance abuse issues also experience co-occurring mental health disorders. This dual diagnosis can complicate treatment and requires a comprehensive approach.

Impaired Decision-Making: Substance abuse can impair decision-making abilities, leading to risky choices and consequences.

If you’re ready to get drug rehab and alcohol rehab, it’s time to call Plum Creek Recovery Ranch Today!

If you or someone you love is struggling with drug and alcohol abuse, please know that there is hope and help available at Plum Creek Recovery Ranch. Taking that first step towards recovery can be daunting, but it’s a courageous choice that can transform your life. At Plum Creek, you’ll find a compassionate and supportive community dedicated to your well-being. Call today at (512) 601-8599 or Contact Us here. Embrace the opportunity to heal, grow, and rediscover the beautiful potential within you. Reach out to Plum Creek Recovery Ranch today, and let them guide you towards a path of recovery, restoration, and hope. Your journey to a substance-free, fulfilling life starts here.