#<- a DUSTY tag omg

[mojimallow]

countdown

bayverse! mikey, raph, and donnie on a mission. ~1k words. [ao3]

"Five..."

These moments were what Michelangelo lived for.

The pulling-back of the slingshot, the loading of the cannon- the way the night seemed to wrap around him and nudge him forwards. Saying go. I've got you.

"Four..."

The tails of his mask floated into his peripheral, flowing in the breeze and almost golden in the harsh, fluorescent lighting flowing up through the skylight.

"Three..."

Donnie was counting on Mikey's left, Raph twirling his sai on his right, and he felt all three of them take a steady breath that seemed to slow the tick of seconds.

"Two..."

It was the calm before the storm. Everything faded out, even in Mike's own mile-a-minute brain.

It was what he figured meditation was probably like for Leo, but with about three thousand percent more oomph.

"One..."

The lights cut out in the warehouse below, and it felt like every single watt of electricity had surged up into Mikey's body instead, crackling and thrumming and urging him to move.

Here we go.

"Now!"

At Donnie's signal, the three of them leapt down through the skylight, shattering it in the process. Shrieks and shouts filled the warehouse below them, punctuated by the shower of glass on cement, and the drop painted a grin onto Mikey's face.

Tuck, roll, plant feet outside the wreckage, launch himself forward. Simple, familiar beats, things he'd been doing since he was fifteen- things he'd been training for for much longer than that.

Nunchuck to the side of a guy's head, another guy's ribs, firm kick to a third goon's chest- firm enough to send him flying, Donnie stepping smoothly out of the way before using his bo to disarm another- dodge the swing of a crowbar, relieve goon of said crowbar, relish in goon's wide-eyed stammer. It was like a dance- not practiced and polished like a waltz or ballet, but fluid and intuitive like his favorite freestylers. It came naturally to him, even more so after years of practice and training and learning exactly what rules he could bend and which he could break.

With the fight being second-nature, all but autopilot, something in the loft area above caught his attention.

"Leo, give-" No Leo. He was still- had better be- resting a broken leg at the lair. Mikey recovered from the muscle memory quickly with a shake of his head, a fist to another bad guy's head. "Raph, give me a boost!"

Like magic- and with a loud groan from whatever poor soul had been in his way- Raph was there, and before Mikey had even fully registered his own movement, he was planting a foot in Raph's outstretched and intertwined hands and being propelled upwards.

Catch the catwalk, pull up, barely even land before launching after the Foot soldier hauling ass towards the exit.

Ignore the fight echoing below. Focus.

That last step sounded a lot like Leo in Mikey's mind, so he trusted it. He threw himself over a line of crates and tackled the guy in a clumsy-but-effective motion, knocking his cargo free of his arms and scrambling after it.

The guy groaned something that was probably supposed to sound threatening, something about "the Master" and "get you."

"Sure thing, brah!" Mikey called over his shoulder, making his way back to the catwalk. "I'll tell your boss down here you deserve an A+ in Threatening 101." He paused for just a beat, tuning back into his brothers' violence. "...assuming he's still awake. "

"Mikey, status!"

"Ready to roll, Don. One freaky chemical thermos coming right up!"

"Then let's get out of here before the surprise part of surprise attack wears off," he yelled, jerking his head upwards. "Raph!"

Raphael grunted, throwing one of the Foot henchmen into two others. "I never get to have any fun, y'know that?"

"You want fun, then you can give Leo a mission report!"

In Leo's defense, none of the brothers took well to being sidelined; not even Mikey, who relished the chance to lay around. Milking an injury to get out of chores (and get gift bags of the good snacks from April) could only hold his attention for so long.

And Big Blue didn't even do that, so really it was no wonder he was fifty kinds of pissy under his calm cool demeanor. Sweeping with a broken leg would do that to a person, Mikey figured.

Either way, it was enough for Raph to groan and retreat, following Mikey and Donnie up to and out of a window.

It was a quick trip back to the rooftops, fading back into the night's familiar grip and out of the sights of goons with guns.

Mikey passed Donnie the bottle of whatever evil goop the Foot had cooked up this time, shot Raph a grin, and took off across the roof like he was finally shot out of the cannon. Now that Don had The Package, Mike could afford to give the reins to the remaining sparks of electricity just under his skin- he could pour absolutely everything he had into a dead sprint just to feel the wind, could drain his battery the best way he knew how.

In the final stretch to the manhole cover of the evening, he added in some flips for flavor.

Five buildings to go.

A double back handspring was just what the doctor ordered, the familiar rattle of his nunchucks punctuating each motion.

Four.

He charged straight at an air conditioning unit, leaping right over it and sticking the landing with flair.

Three more.

Gotta make it count. As many round-offs as he could manage, just because he could. Just to feel the rooftop under his palms.

Two.

He turned, moving backwards and watching his brothers clear the roof behind him with smiles not unlike his own.

"Nice series, Mikey!" Donnie called.

"Ninja skills for the win, dude!"

One left.

A steady jog- forwards this time- to bring himself back to baseline. Let Raph and Donnie fall in step with him.

Pass him.

Mikey stopped on the lip of the roof, staring up at the moon and breathing in the city. Breathing in the night.

Raph- warm and fond, like the night had softened him too- called up to him. "C'mon, man. If I have to deal with his grumpy ass, so do you."

Michelangelo made a big show of his sigh, releasing the last of the fight into the air as theatrically as he possibly could, before following his brothers home.

[canneddolts]

gordon explains mortality to the science team

[silks-up-my-sleeve]

guess what's going to be on repeat for the next three days??

[nottapossum]

Omg you gays- uhm guys!

Have any of you noticed that

...uhm.

Cherri is Australian?

Where a bunch of spiders live...

Like- big spiders.

...

And Angel is a spider...

...

And they're best friends?

Imagine if Cherri was like: "I've seen spiders bigger than you before, Angie. I'm from Australia. "

Just randomly came to mind yesterday while writing. Lol

Tags: @todayimfour @trophyxtissues2 @ask-dusty-boy @dex-dawn @abby5577

[theemporium]

Omg please I've been craving eastablished relationship sirius x fem!reader fluff I feel like i've read through the entire tag

What about rockstar!sirius who misses reader and is moping so james and remus set up a surprise and fly her out to a show and she's standing at the baracade and sirius sees her and like jumps off the stage to go to her?

i love rockstar!sirius my beloved<3 thank you for requesting!!

.

To be frank, Sirius Black had been insufferable for the last two months.

When the band had been touring around the UK and Europe, you were able to join them at most, if not all, shows. Sirius loved having you by his side, knowing that one of his favourite people on the planet was with him whilst he did something he loved. And you loved watching your boy thrive in his element. 

However, when the tour moved to North America, you were unable to follow. 

Despite his insistence that he had more than enough money to take care of you both (and let you be his full time favourite groupie), he knew how much your degree meant to you and he wouldn’t ever want you to drop your dreams when you supported his so much. So, you had stayed in the UK to continue your education. 

And Sirius was downright miserable with the distance between you.

Not that anyone would notice. To the world, Sirius Black was still going out on stage and performing like every show was his last. He was a rockstar through and through, and the world fell in love with him a little more with each performance. 

But to his bandmates? They had nothing but constant whining and complaining and moping that Sirius didn’t have his girl by his side. And, to be honest, James and Remus had reached their wit’s end. They could deal with a lot, but two months of it?

No. They knew they needed to do something.

It wasn’t hard to convince you at all to fly over and visit for a short leg of the North America tour. You had been just as miserable without your boy back home. The apartment felt empty without him. And his guitars were a little dusty, which was a sight you weren’t used to. And having one side of the bed constantly cold, with his scent long faded from the pillows, it was starting to take a toll on you.

You packed a bag and made your way to the airport without a second thought, landing in Michigan the day of their show. 

“This is ridiculous.”

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Remus, you want me to get into a suitcase,” you deadpanned, wondering if the tour had finally driven him over the edge. “I am going to suffocate in there!”

“You won’t,” James reassured you with a bright grin. “We’ve done it plenty of times. Plus, it’s just until we can get you into the venue without fans seeing and spoiling the surprise.” 

And you knew he had a point. 

The boys didn’t just want to fly you over and throw you at Sirius. No, they wanted to surprise him, completely knock the air out of his lungs. They didn’t want some lame reunion in a hotel room before he was rushed off onto stage and you were forced to stand backstage until the set ended. 

Go big or go home, and the marauders always chose the former. 

It was why you agreed to get in the suitcase, staying in the cramped space until you reached the venue. It was why you agreed to wear the oversized hoodie, despite standing amongst the fans in the ridiculously hot crowd. It was why you agreed to keep your disguise up until the first few songs passed. 

And then, you threw the hood off your head and you gripped the edge of the barricade as you looked up at the stage, as you looked up at your boyfriend and took in the sight of him for the first time in two months. The tight trousers fitted around his thick thighs, the leather jacket exposing his bare and tattooed torso, the sweat gleaming like a thin layer on his skin and the messy black hair that you missed running your fingers through.

Fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Sirius lifted his head to look away from his fretboard, his eyes on the crowd as he played the opening riff to the next song, only to stop short when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. He blinked once, and then twice to make sure it was really you. And by that point, security couldn’t even stop him as he shrugged his guitar off and shoved it into the hands of whoever was closest to him before he hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards you. 

The crowd was going wild as they watched him, the cameras were capturing every moment but you couldn’t care less as Sirius made his way to the barricade, grabbing your face and smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy, messy and a little desperate, and probably far too much with so many eyes on you but Sirius never really cared about any of that stuff anyways.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, love,” Sirius murmured before he leaned in for another kiss and another and another. And when that wasn’t enough, he all but dragged you over the barricade, grinning wildly when you clung onto him.

“Sirius!” you gasped, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands rested on your ass.

“God, I missed hearing you scream my name,” he muttered, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he watched you flush at his comment.

“You have a show to perform,” you murmured, nodding your head towards the stage. “I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t,” Sirius told you. “C’mon, let’s go back to the tour bus—”

“Sirius,” you laughed, though there was a hint of warning in your voice which he recognised. “Show first, then sex.”

Sirius grinned cheekily. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you smiled, leaning down and he pouted his expecting another kiss, only for your lips to brush against his ear instead. “Plus, I want us to have all the time in the world when you see the little surprise I got for you.”

Sirius gulped. “Surprise?” 

“Got ‘em done just before you left,” you told him and his spine straightened in realisation. “Should be healed enough for you to play with them.”

“Show me.”

“Sirius—”

“Baby, show me or so help me, I will lose my mind,” Sirius groaned. 

But you just laughed, patting his cheek as you told him there wasn’t a chance in the world you were going to flash your tits in front of everyone. He groaned as you began untangling yourself from him, making your way backstage where you would watch the rest of the show. Sirius glared at you and your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

“Good luck, baby! Knock ‘em dead!” 

.

[jordanswwe]

lovers from the other side

nick wayne x reader

summary: the reader had an impressive match tagging with former aew wrestler jade cargill. a bunch of stars from aew were watching their old friend and y/n. nick wayne takes in interest in the reader and a very strong relationship forms. jade has a party or two and everything changes for them.

today was finally the day. jade cargill was making her nxt debut. after months of teasers and appearances in wwe, jade was finally having her first match. jade cargill was set to team up with another fast rising star in nxt y/n. the match was apart of the dusty cup tournament, so a lot was riding on this match.

jade had a lot of friends from aew watch her debut. anna jay, darby all in, julia hart, ricky starla, tay conti, and nick wayne. they were all so happy for their friend to be given such a huge opportunity. even though both companies were at war, their friendship didn’t fall because of the competitive atmosphere.

it was time. jade and y/n were making their way to the ring in matching pink gears. they were set to take on the team of jacy jayne and thea hail. jacy jayne and thea hail. y/n was starting off the match with thea hail.

as y/n was wrestling, nick wayne couldn’t help himself but be intrigued on what he was seeing. nick wayne had never seen someone so, so interesting. he immediately searched up facts about the wrestler and they both happened to be the same age. nick searched up y/n’s instagram only to see the follow back. let’s just say, after that nick instantly followed her and browsed through her posts before finally putting his phone away.

nick continued watching the match with a couple of other aew wrestlers as jade pinned jacy to pick up the win. the finals were set. it would be jade and y/n vs kiana james and tiffany stratton.

jade was so thrilled about picking up the win in her debut match. she decided to through a little get together. jade invited her tag partner of corse and she invited her friends from aew. jade had such a huge house and it was nothing but beautiful.

nick wayne finally arrived to the party with darby allin. as nick wayne was making his way through the party, he saw y/n. the girl he had been basically obsessing over. he worked up the courage to go up to her and actually start a conversation with y/n.

“hey” nick said smiling.

“ omg hey, you must be nick. jade has told me so much about you, it’s crazy how fast you’ve been rising in aew.” y/n said smiling back at nick wayne, who she was equally intrigued in.

“yeah, it’s such a dream to be apart of a big company at such a young age. i mean, you would know the feeling to. we’re both 18 thriving in our own worlds.” nick said laughing.

y/n found herself getting lost in his beautiful smile. something about him made her heart pound faster and her stomach to get butterflies. nick sees the reader gazing off in his direction and he wonders what she is thinking in the moment.

scooting closer to nick. y/n breaks the silence. “i’ve watched a lot of your matches in aew and you’re incredible nick. i can see your passion for wrestling during your matches and it’s so inspiring.” y/n said blushing.

nick then, scooted closer to y/n. the tension between the two was through the roof at this point. they weren’t even paying attention to the party happening around them. nick leaned in towards y/n and she did the same for him. with just inches in between them, they both leaned in hoping for a kiss just to be interrupted by darby.

“nick, are you ready to get out of here. i’m getting tired and we have a show tomorrow”.

nick looked upset to leave y/n. “i guess so.” he replied to his friend.

he turned to look at y/n before placing a kiss to her hand. “i’ll text you?” he said in a questioning voice.

“i’ll be waiting for your text.” she said smiling. then she followed up with saying “nick, it was great talking to you tonight. i really enjoyed our conversation.” she said smiling at him before her left.

THE NEXT DAY

y/n woke up to a text from nick. it read “goodmorning mini jade cargill” y/n couldn’t help but laugh at nick’s text. “and goodmorning to you to mini darby allin. y/n finally put her phone down and then she had a realization. she hasn’t felt this way ever about anyone. y/n hadn’t personally known nick for a long, but she’s been following his wrestling journey for a while.

when nick wayne finally followed y/n back yesterday and then proceeded to talk to her at the party. y/n closed her eyes so she could just relive it and remember what if felt like to be in his presence. she had even thought about a moment they almost had before darby stepped in.

as she opened her eyes again, she decided to text nick. “hey, jade is having a small get together. it’s not going to be a party like last time. only 10 people at most, but i was wondering if you and darby could stop by after your guys show.”

it was 10pm and aew had been over for nearly an hour. y/n was patiently waiting for nick to come over. there was no sign of him until there was. y/n got lost gazing at him again.

“hey you” nick said smiling at her.

“hey to you to” y/n said laughing. “do you want to follow me?” she also asked.

“i suppose” nick replied laughing. he proceeded to follow y/n to the balcony. when they finally got to the balcony, they sat down. “so why’d you bring me out here” he said scooting closer to her.

y/n didn’t answer. the tension between her and nick was tensioning once again. as she leaned in closer to nick, she was cut off. this time, by nick. “i like you to” he said and then just pulled her in for a kiss. y/n and nick got so lost in their kiss that they lost track of time.

“do you want to be my girl” nick asked.

“i would love to” y/n replied.

“the romeo to my juliet” y/n thought.

“the juliet to my romeo” nick thought.

“i’ve been following you for so long nick. this is everything i’ve ever wanted.” y/n said. nick pulled the reader in for a tight hug and he was never letting go.

~~~~

sorry if this isn’t the best. i haven’t wrote one of these in a long time and i felt that there should be more nick wayne posts out there.

[morganwrites12672]

Steve harrington x Henderson!reader where they tell dustin that theyre dating at skull rock and dustins like "OMG WHEN YALL GET MARRIED IM GONNA BE STEVES BROTHER AAAAA"

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Dustin is more then happy when he realizes you're dating Steve.

Warnings/Tags: Steve x reader (dating), Dustin x reader (siblings),

A/N: I changed it ever so slightly.

---------------------------------------------------------

Dustin looked between you and steve before walking towards you two. It was a Friday night and he had just finished up D&D.

He sees you and Steve whispering about something and gets suspicious. He thought you two hates each other.

He approaches with a smile and wave, which is reciprocated by you and Steve.

"Dustin, we need to tell you something." Why did you say 'we'? Dustin couldn't think of a logical explanation.

"We are dating," Steve finished. Dustin's jaw almost hit the pavement.

He realized what that meant, "WHEN YOU TWO GET MARRIED I WILL BE STEVE'S BROTHER!?!" he screamed in excitement

"Married?" You and Steve both choked out at the same time. You had only been dating for a few months. Marriage had been joked about, but never discussed.

"Can you name your first kid after me?" He asked next.

"Dustin-," Steve attempted to cut in but was interrupted.

"Can I be your best man?" He asks steve. You and Steve gave up. There was no getting the idea out of Dustin's head.

"We haven't even been dating for a year, Dusty," you mention and he scoffs.

"Is that a yes or a no on naming the first kid after me?" He asks again.

Dustin then goes through the five stages of grief when he realizes something.

"You have kissed my sister. You have probably slept with my sister. How could you Steve?" Dustin half yelled the last sentence.

"The only way I will accept an apology is if the first baby's name is Dustin junior," Dustin states like it's the most logical thing ever.

"Fine," Steve says. He was just glad Dustin wasn't mad. He would hate to upset the kid. Who was now technically a teenager.

"Yes," Dustin says with excitement before climbing into your car.

"It could of been worse,"

----------------------------------------------------------

requests are open! Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated

[brokebonewritings]

omg please do a sequel to the anxiety request it was sooo cute and relatable tbfh

A SEQUEL YOU SAY?!! Absolutely 😩🤍 You guys seemed to really like that request and I appreciate it!

Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity

Matt Murdock x reader

Tags: 18+, First Date, Fluff, Falling in Love

Summary: You and Matt go to a candlelight concert for your first date. You learn something new about music, and he leaves you with a new sense of love.

Word Count: 2K

Navigation | Masterlist

You woke up with the same amount of pressure that was in your chest the night before. It wasn’t every day that you felt like this. Just today. 

Trying to justify your anxiety because you had a date was reasonable right? Wrong. Well that’s what your brain believed anyways. You reach for your phone charging on the nightstand and check the time.

Eight AM. Perfect. The concert was for another 11 hours. Just the right amount of time to freak. You notice a voicemail notification. Confused to see that it’s from Matt, your heart begins to pound.

‘He’s canceling’ You thought ‘I knew it was too good to be true’

Despite the anxiety coursing through your veins, you open the voicemail and raise the phone to your ear. Matt's voice came through the receiver smoothly, which eased some of the tension.

“Hey sweetheart.” He began. “I can’t wait to see you later. I’ll be there to pick you up around 5:30. Hope you have a good day.” 

That’s where the voicemail ends. No cancellation. No excuses. He was actually going to come! You close your eyes and smile. Probably looking like an idiot, you stay like that for a while.

You go about your day, cleaning, finishing a report to send to your boss, and remembering to hydrate. However, you begin to pace your apartment after finishing all of your chores. Checking the time just a bit too often.

4pm. That’s what the clock stated. You still had a few more hours left until Matt would come pick you up. But the thought of waiting was becoming unbearable. Your mind was racing with all the possible scenarios that could happen tonight and you couldn't help but feel nervous.

You walk over to your wardrobe and start rummaging through it. It didn’t have to be perfect, but you wanted to look nice. This was the first orchestral concert you had ever been to. You finally settle on a floral patterned dress. 

As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you can't help but feel a little proud of how you look. But the anxiety still lingers in your chest like a heavy weight. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself down. Suddenly, your phone buzzes. It's a text from Matt.

Matty 4:48pm

I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.

You 4:50pm

See you soon!

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror, running your hands through your hair and finishing your makeup. A knock at your door causes your heart to  jump in your chest. Making sure you have the tickets in your wallet, you grab your purse and rush to the door.

As you open it, you see Matt standing there, a bouquet of roses in his hand. His dark hair is styled neatly, and he's wearing a sleek suit that fits him perfectly.

"Hi," he says with a smile.

"Hi," you reply, your voice shaking slightly.

"These are for you," he says, holding out the bouquet. You take them, inhaling their sweet scent. 

"Thank you," you say, feeling your face flush.

Stepping aside, you allow him to enter your apartment. He steps in as he leans his cane against your coat rack. Shutting the door, you take his hand and lead him to your living room. He takes a seat as you take the bouquet to the kitchen and set them in the sink for a brief moment. 

You open your cabinet and reach for the dusty vase on the middle shelf. After washing it off, you fill it with water and place the roses within it. They were gorgeous. A mix of colors among the red roses. You loved it. Once you finish, you set the roses on your dining table and walk back to Matt.

“Ready!” You say taking his hand timidly.

He rubs circles into your hand with his thumb as if to say it was going to be okay. That’s when you realized how fast your heartbeat was. You could feel it thumping against your chest.

This was your very first date ever. So of course your heart was running a million miles a minute. Matt was no stranger to this though. You appreciated his patience with you.

As you both leave the apartment and lock your door, you attempt to make idle conversation. Mostly about how his work week has been, how Karen and Foggy were doing, and if he was getting any more sleep.

Walking down to the street, Matt calls a taxi and you both are on your way.The ride to the concert hall is filled with light conversation, the butterflies in your stomach still flying high.

Upon arriving, you notice how small the venue is. Intimate. It was perfect, really. You had expected it to be a much larger production.

Looking at your watch, you both had made it early. It really was a miracle due to how much traffic there was. You and Matt make your way to your seats, noticing you were towards the back of the theater. Again, it was perfect.

The stage is decorated with a beautiful array of instruments, and the musicians are tuning their instruments. You take a deep breath and try to relax.

Matt notices the tension in your body and gently places his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You look over at him and he gives you a reassuring smile.

His touch and warmth help calm your nerves, and you're grateful to have him here with you. You had waited such a long time for this. Dodging other dates in hope you could catch Matt’s attention.

As the lights dim and the conductor takes the stage, the audience falls silent. The orchestra begins to play, and the music fills the room.

The sound is rich and beautiful, and it instantly transports you to another place. You close your eyes and allow yourself to be swept away by the music. 

There were pieces you had heard before, and some you were hearing for the first time. Every so often you would look over to Matt to see how he was doing. He sat silently throughout the concert.

“How are you liking it?” You lean towards him and whisper.

His lips curl upward into a smile, “It’s beautiful. You?”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.

The conductor turns towards the audience after the previous piece. She smiles and thanks everyone for joining them that evening. Introducing the last piece, you hadn’t recognized the name. It was part of the Planet Suite by Holst. 

“Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity” The conductor says, “It is big, and powerful. Such as this symphony orchestra. Enjoy.”

She turns back around and raises her baton. The music starts slow and quiet, building up with the sound of the strings and horns. The music is loud and grand, and it fills the room with a sense of wonder and awe.

As the piece continues, you begin to feel a strange sensation wash over you. It's like your entire body is vibrating with the music, and you feel as though you might explode at any moment.

You look over at Matt, wondering if he is feeling the same thing, but he seems completely still, his face calm and serene.

Suddenly, the music reaches a crescendo, and your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest. The entire orchestra is playing together, and the sound is almost too much to bear. You close your eyes and surrender yourself to the music, letting it wash over you in waves. 

The anxiety that filled you earlier in the day had seemed to go away once the concert started. You both already knew each other, you just needed to bask in each other’s presence. How music could affect you so much, you will never know. 

As the piece comes to an end, the audience erupts into applause. You open your eyes and look around, feeling disoriented and dizzy. Matt’s head is towards you as you notice others standing from their seats.

The concert was over. Which meant the date was almost over. His hand gives your thigh a slight squeeze. Your heart began to pick up pace.

“Are you alright?” He says barely above a whisper.

“I’m great.” You begin, “That was the most beautiful piece I had ever heard in my life.”

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?

You watch his face as it softens from his worried look. Was he concerned because of you? Grateful for the concern, you rest your hand on his. It made you feel seen and cared for.

Making your way out of the theater, the cool night air hits you as you step outside. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. 

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"A little," you admit. “How did you know?”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Call it an instinct.”

Without another word, he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment. You feel a jolt run through your body at the touch.

"Thank you," you say, smiling up at him.

He smiles back at you, and you feel your heart flutter. You can't believe that someone like him is interested in you. It feels too good to be true.

As you both walk down the street, enjoying the cool night air, Matt takes your hand in his. You squeeze back, feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over you. 

The walk back to your apartment was filled with a long comfortable silence. You couldn't help but feel giddy inside. Matt was holding your hand. It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

As you approach your building, he stops and turns towards you. You look up at him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I had a really great time tonight," he says softly.

"I did too," you reply, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

This was it. Something you had been waiting for since you were just a teen. Your first kiss. Leaning back, you give a slight nod. 

“Please.” Is all you managed to say. Your heart pounding in your chest. 

Matt's lips meet yours, soft and gentle at first, but then growing more urgent as the kiss deepens. Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally pull away, gasping for breath, you can't help but feel a little lightheaded.

"That was amazing," you say, smiling up at him.

He grins back at you, “Was it worth the wait?”

“You have no idea.”

You both stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, and then he leans in to kiss you again. This time the kiss is more urgent, more passionate, and you feel your body responding to him in ways that you never thought possible.

Finally, he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. You both are breathing heavily, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“It’s getting late.” He finally says.

You nod in agreement. Pulling away from him your hand lingers on his chest for a minute.

“Thank you for tonight.” You say, “It was amazing.”

“I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“Good. I was afraid you would ghost me or something.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Saying goodbye was a lot harder than you expected. It did happen eventually, and with that you walked into your building.

As you climb the stairs to your apartment, you can't help but replay the night's events in your head. The music, the kiss, the way Matt made you feel. You're filled with a sense of contentment and happiness that you haven't felt in a long time.

Opening the door to your apartment, you're hit with the familiar smell of home. You throw Matt's jacket onto the couch and collapse onto it, a wide grin on your face. You've never been one to believe in fate, but something about tonight felt like it was meant to be.

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 10

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 10: Snow Day

Chapter Summary: A snowstorm before a shitstorm.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 9.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, it’s giving hygge, tabloids, uncertainty and insecurity, snow, secrets, legal stuff, alcohol, cannabis, lotta dialogue, Anika, grief, dead parent, music, sign language, shotgunning weed, smut, how to remove ink stains

Notes: Chapter title from "Snow Day" by The Honorary Title. Thank you for being so patient waiting for this chapter!! Let me know what you think 🖤

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Series Masterlist ]

From inside a coffee shop, you spot the first languid snowflakes beginning to fall from a dusty, overcast sky. They’re fat and heavy, their density suggesting the city will soon be covered in a thick blanket of it. 

“It’s starting,” you tell Dieter, nodding to the tall, windowed store front. 

He sets his phone down on the wide, leathered plane of his armchair and leans forward, squinting at the window, muttering, “Snowmaggedon,” before he lifts a coffee cup to his lips and takes a sip. 

A barista slams the espresso machine’s portafilter against their stainless steel countertop with a bang bang bang. Whistling sounds from a steamer. The warm, robust aroma of coffee saturates the air. You and Dieter are nestled into a secluded corner of the café, sitting among a variety of green plants with wide, waxy leaves. It almost feels tropical, a stark contrast to the snow globe outside. 

You pick your coffee cup up with both hands, testing its heat against your lips before taking a sip. It’s bitter and hot, and when it washes over your tongue you hum with contentment before setting it back down. Dieter holds his hand out to you in the space between your chairs, and you interlace your fingers with his. 

Snow falls steadily outside the window. You watch it settle on the shoulders of passersby, who all seem to be scowling with disdain, hands buried in their coat pockets, faces angled away from the falling flakes. With the snowstorm beginning, predicted to accumulate 8-12 inches, and no plans for the day, a weighted nostalgia creeps into your bones. 

“When you were a kid did you ever have snow days?” you ask him out of curiosity. 

He leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other, shaking his head, “We were always stationed in the south.” 

“Oh,” you frown at the window, then shrug, “They were always my favorite days. My dad was a professor, so he would get to stay home, too. If it wasn’t too cold, he’d play in the snow with me, making forts and snowmen and whatever. When we came inside my mom would make hot chocolate, then we’d sit by the fireplace and stuff. I don’t know. I liked it.” 

His thumb works against the back of your hand and you glance over at him, meeting his softened gaze. He opens his mouth to respond, but then his phone starts ringing. 

The screen reads DARLENE. 

“I’m–I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he tells you, then lets go of your hand and answers the phone with a quick, “Yeah?” before standing up and walking to the back of the coffee shop where it’s quieter. 

You fold your legs up underneath you and pull your phone out from your pocket, then furrow your brow at the series of unread text messages received within the last ten minutes. 

> PARKER:  > OMG LOU

He included a link to a tabloid article. Your heart jumps into your throat as soon as you read the headline. You click it. 

DIETER BRAVO DINES WITH MYSTERY WOMAN AT SWANKY MANHATTAN RESTAURANT

Dieter Bravo was spotted last night at Gabriel Kreuther in NYC, sharing an intimate dinner with a new mystery woman. 

In photos obtained by DIRT, the pair can be seen kissing and huddling close to one another. They appear to be quite enamored, and were reportedly laughing and smiling throughout the meal. 

Although the identity of this woman is unclear, she was hand in hand with Bravo as they left the restaurant. 

The 46-year old actor, whose divorce to Anika Bravo was only recently finalized, has been under scrutiny for his promiscuity and alleged drug use. Is this mystery woman a flavor of the week, or is this something more serious? 

You blink at the article for a moment, trying to sort the hundreds of thoughts that start ping-ponging around your brain. There’s too much information. It’s as if you’ve been downgraded to dial-up internet, and the modem in your head is squealing and buzzing as you process the incoming data. 

The lining of your throat seems to be closing in around your windpipe. You respond to Parker. 

< ME: < What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck 

There are messages from more casual friends, each twisting your stomach tighter than the last. 

> KOURTNEY:  > Is this you?????

> RACHEL: > wtf are you dating dieter bravo?? 

And then you see one from Ethan’s son. 

> BEN:  > Wow, already? 

A hairline fracture rips across your heart. You click the text response box and stare at the blinking blue line. Your ears feel hot. There’s static expanding in your chest and your mind is completely frozen. 

From what seems like far away, you hear Dieter call your name. You shake yourself out of your trance and look up at him. Panic must be written all over your face, because his brow creases and his shoulders slump, “Did you see?” 

You swallow hard and give him a tight nod, croaking out, “Yeah.”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he coos, then closes the distance between you, crouching down in front of the armchair to level his gaze with yours, “It’s not a big deal, they’re just fucking vultures. They’ll move onto the next thing before you know it.” 

You feel your eyes go vacant. You’re looking at him but staring at something miles away. Your teeth catch on the smooth inside of your cheek and pulse away at the tender flesh. 

“Lua,” he calls softly, then plucks the phone from your shaky grip and sets it down on the armrest. His hands wrap around yours and he stares you dead in your soul, pulling you back to back to your body, “I promise it will be alright.” 

Your head shakes back and forth on its own accord, “You don’t understand–” 

“No, you don’t understand,” he tells you firmly, then pulls your knuckles to his lips and kisses them, those dark eyes so fucking warm and comforting, “They can say whatever they want, I don’t give a shit. I am–” he falters here, words caught in his throat. It makes your heart start sprinting. But he recovers, “I’m with you, ok?” 

You feel your eyes tingling with the threat of tears, so you nod and take a deep breath, “Ok.” 

But, really, you can’t be sure. Because he doesn’t know everything the press could find out about you. This reassurance, this promise, is not an informed decision. 

What happens when a tabloid looks into your past? Would it destroy his already tarnished reputation? 

And what happens if you tell him now? Would he have to cut ties with you before the news broke? 

The idea of losing him feels like dying. 

Worse, even. 

There would be no tunnel of light to travel down, no pilgrimage to the sea of love, no overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. Only pain. 

Dieter presses a kiss against one hand, then the other. Your heart flutters and you muster a watery smile. 

“Wanna go home?” he asks. 

Your eyes flick up to the window. A layer of white already sticks to most every surface in sight. 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

It’s noon by the time the two of you cross the threshold into your apartment. 

Dieter can tell something is wrong. The whole walk here you were solemn and distant. 

After you’re both stripped of your dampened outerwear, you turn on the gas fireplace and curl up into a ball on your purple velveteen couch. Dieter sits down next to you, but you don’t nuzzle into him like you normally do. 

His skin is buzzing and tight. He watches your face, noting your pinched brow and far-away eyes. Your head resting on your knees, body all hunched up and guarded from attack. 

On its own accord, his knee starts bouncing and he murmurs, “Baby.”

Your eyes flick to his, eyebrows raising in question, “Hmm?”

“What’s on your mind?” 

The space between his body and yours feels like miles. He scoots closer and rests his palm between your shoulder blades. Works his thumb against your spine. Your rib cage expands beneath his touch, then releases a shaky breath. 

You’re holding back. Stuck in your head. It’s so obvious. 

“You can talk to me about it, love,” he assures you.

Your eyes get all red and watery. You drop your face between your knees just as it starts to crumble, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

The words claw at his heart. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your tensed up shoulders, but you don’t budge. 

“Why would you lose me?” he asks. 

And he wishes you would just look at him. Let yourself unfold so he can see you. 

When you don’t respond, he continues, “Lua, you’re not gonna lose me,” he swears, “Whatever it is, we can work through it.”

“You don’t know that, Dee,” you choke out, “You can’t say that if you don’t know.” 

He blinks and scoffs, “No, I guess I can’t. So why don’t you tell me and we can find out?”

Your shoulders tremble with sobs.

It feels like an eternity before your crying slows and you look at him. 

When you do, your face is all flushed and wet with tears, and you choke out, “In 2018, I was busted with a fuck load of product. It was a set up. They were trying to arrest Ethan. But I—I just happened to be the one— ”

Dieter furrows his brow and studies your face. Your mouth hangs open, and he can practically see the words queued up at the back of your throat. He gives you an encouraging squeeze. You release your breath. 

“I’m a convicted felon,” you whisper. 

His head jerks back, then he shakes his head, “What?” 

“Felony drug trafficking charges,” you drop your gaze and swallow hard, “And—and I know that you’re already in the spotlight because of drug use, and if the media finds out—”

A sob rips through your chest. His heart plummets to the floor. 

“Dee, I don’t wanna ruin everything for you,” you squeak, body tensing as your eyes well up again, “I’m—I’m not a good person. I’m a fucking drug dealer, for fuck’s sake. Your association to me,” you shake your head back and forth frantically, “It—it could destroy your fucking career.” 

It starts to dawn on him that you might be right. A clusterfuck of emotions tightens his guts into a knot, making him nauseated. And you’re sitting there bawling and he just wants to tell you that it’s ok, it’ll be ok, it doesn’t matter, but he doesn’t know if that’s true or not, and he can’t bring himself to lie to you. 

“Listen,” he turns his whole body to face you, cupping your cheeks, thumbs moving like windshield wipers against your tears, “We’re gonna figure it out. Let me call Darlene, see what she says. Ok?” 

“Ok,” you croak. 

He presses a kiss into your forehead, letting his lips linger against the creases, closing his eyes to savor the moment. Then he gets to his feet and moves into your bedroom, pulling his phone out of his pocket, closing the door behind him. 

“Can we do anything?” he asks Darlene, running his fingers through his hair as he paces the floor of your bedroom. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dieter. What do you expect me to do? Expunge her criminal record?” Darlene jeers. 

“Is… is that something you can do?” he stops pacing and frowns. 

“No!” she scoffs, “Honestly, the best thing for you to do would be to drop this relationship—”

“Not an option,” he asserts, eyes flicking to the closed door. 

“Why not?”

“Because I—“ his heart leaps into his throat, then he shakes his head and starts to pace again, dropping his voice to a murmur, “I don’t know, I can’t.” 

The phone line is silent for a moment, then you hear an exasperated sigh, “Is this really worth the mess that could come out from this?”

“Yes,” he answers honestly. 

“You don’t know that—”

“I do, Darlene. It’s non-negotiable,” he counters, sure and unflinching. 

Darlene mutters something under her breath, then concedes, “Give me thirty seconds to think.” 

Dieter strides over to the window and slides the curtain back to peak outside. Snowflakes pour from the low, gray ceiling of clouds. They’re relentless, covering the city in white. 

“I want both of you on the next flight to LA,” Darlene tells him then, “We’re going to get ahead of this. We’ll coach her, get the two of you in an interview or two, make a statement, show the public that she’s reformed.” 

Reformed. The term makes his lip curl in disdain. 

“I don’t think any flights will go out ‘til tomorrow, we’re in the middle of a goddamn blizzard out here,” Dieter murmurs, then turns away from the window and starts pacing again. 

“Fine, whatever, just—be honest with me Dieter, is she still selling drugs?”

“No,” he lies without hesitation, “She’s a pastry chef.” 

“Ok,” a sigh of relief crackles over the phone line, “Ok, good, we might be able to make this work. I’ll let Lincoln and Mark know what’s going on.” 

You’re cleaning the empty kitchen sink when Dieter emerges from your bedroom. 

You don’t look up at him, just furrow your brow at a stubborn spot of glued-on caramel and scrub your steel wool pad against it vigorously. His hands find your waist, and you jump at the unexpected contact, releasing a nervous chuckle, “Oh, hi.” 

He folds his arms around your belly and nuzzles into the crease of your neck, “Hi.”

Your muscles are all rigid and live-wired. You drop the steel wool and press your yellow rubber-gloved hands against the lip of the sink to brace yourself. 

“We have a plan,” he rumbles, and starts swaying back and forth gently, as if to soothe you, “You ready to hear it?”

No.

“Yes,” you croak. Your fingers grip the sink now as you try to steady your shaking hands. 

“We’re going to LA as soon as the storm passes.” 

A buzz starts ringing in your ears. Your heart leaps from your chest. 

“Wh—what?” you turn around, ripping yourself from his grasp, and search his face, “Why?” 

Dieter takes a step back and runs a hand through his messy hair, “We’re going to do an interview, some press stuff, to show that you’re not…”

“A criminal?” you finish, then scoff and shake your head, “But I am, Dee—”

“They don’t know that. They don’t have to know that. You’re a pastry chef, that’s all they need to know,” he tells you, then takes a step forward. He places his hands on your hips and meets your eyes with a pleading gaze, “If we tell them about your past, if we’re open about it, there’ll be nothing for them to gawk over. They’ll get bored and move on.” 

Your jaw clenches and you shake your head, “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” he responds. His thumbs work against the waistband of your jeans. 

Your throat knots up in protest when you think about this plan. The pending chaos. The shitstorm that will ensue after this snowstorm passes. All the damage it could cause. 

“You don’t… you don’t have to do this for me. I—” a sob holds your words hostage. An invisible hand reaches into your ribcage and squeezes your heart into pulp. You drop your face into your yellow rubber gloves. A wave of agony overtakes you. 

Dieter wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest. You return the embrace and bury your sobs into his sweater. He pets your hair and sways back and forth as he coos, “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok.” 

“I’m not worth it, Dee,” you choke out, “You–you can tell them I’m nothing, that this is nothing, just save yourself, whatever you need to do. Just—just forget about me. I understand if that’s what you need to do—”

“Louella,” he pulls you back by your shoulders and meets your gaze, “Can you do something for me, love?”

You sniffle and stare back at him. 

“Never fucking say that to me again,” he rasps. His eyes are obsidian, burning a hole through you. The whites start to tinge red and tears pool at the corners when he tells you, “Unless you really think that it—that this—isn’t worth the trouble.”

All the air evacuates your body. Your face crumbles. So does his. 

“Is that what you think?” he breathes. The tears spill over onto his cheeks. 

“No, of course not, Dee,” you squeak, “I just—I don’t want you to throw your life away—”

“I’m not. I know I’m not,” he shakes his head and clenches his jaw, tilting his head at the ceiling, then he swings his gaze back to yours, “Please—please, Louella. Trust my judgment.” 

He cups your cheeks and searches your face. Your stomach flips upside down like you’re falling off a skyscraper. 

You swallow hard and nod, “Ok.”

Dieter releases his breath. His features start to soften and he sniffles. 

“Ok,” you nod again and clear your throat, brushing your hand along his jawline, “Ok. Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. After a beat, he tacks on, “We’re gonna have to work on your lying, though.” 

This makes you laugh, and it brings a smile to his face. 

“I’m gonna have to figure out what to do with my orders,” you sigh, then mutter your anxious thoughts out loud to yourself, “Maybe Parker will help with the ones being picked up tomorrow. I’ll have to cancel the others. Fuck.”

Your teeth catch your lip and you worry away at it as you think about your measly bank account and your upcoming rent payment. 

“What?” he asks.

You shake your head, then meet his eyes. They dim and his shoulders slump. Your stomach flips at his visible disappointment in your lack of transparency, so you stammer, “Oh–no, no, I was–um, trying to figure out if I can pay my bills.”

“Let me take care of your bills.” 

You groan in protest, “Dee—”

“Just for this month. It’s the least I can do,” his gaze goes all soft and pleading. Then he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. It’s an obvious ploy but it tugs at your heartstrings all the same. 

You groan and roll your eyes, “Fine,” then wrap your arms around his middle and pull him into a hug, squeezing him tight as you murmur into his sweater, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles against your hair. You feel his lips curl into a smile, “Thanks for letting me be your sugar daddy.” 

“Oh my god, stop it,” you laugh, but nuzzle in closer to him and sigh, “I need a fucking drink.”

The ceiling seems to breathe in time with The Velvet Underground’s I’ll Be Your Mirror. Your brain feels soggy and numb around the edges, your limbs heavy and loose. This afternoon’s steady stream of alcohol starts to put your nerves at ease, and for the first time all day, you’re not thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow. 

Granted, your thoughts are tangentially related, but at least your mind is capable of wandering now. 

“How drunk are you?” you inquire as Dieter re-enters the living room, holding a tumbler of peppermint schnapps in each hand. 

He frowns at the empty couch, then swivels his head loosely to where you’re now sprawled across the carpet and laughs, “Why are you on the floor?”

“Why… are you… not on the floor?” you counter, shooting finger guns at him. 

“Excellent point,” he grins, then settles on the ground, groaning as his back reclines against the couch. He sets one glass down on the carpet next to him and raises the other to his lips, taking a big swallow. 

“Dee,” you giggle. 

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows and meets your gaze. 

“How drunk are you?” you repeat your question. 

He scrunches his face up in contemplation, then shrugs, “Yes.” 

“Are you ready to tell me all your secrets?” you ask with a grin. 

“My secrets? What secrets?” he scoffs, “You’re the one with secrets.” 

“Show me yours I’ll show you mine,” you roll on your side and prop your head up on your palm. 

“I can’t tell you all my secrets,” he stops to take a sip of his drink, then says, “You can have one. For now.” 

“Only one?!” you holler back in indignation, “That’s not fair.” 

“I can’t just… unload all my secrets on you at one time,” he explains, flopping his head into a tilt as he jokes, “Gotta sprinkle them in, ya know?” 

The alcohol simmering in your veins buoys your confidence and curiosity. 

“Tell me about Anika,” you say quietly, then watch his whole demeanor shift. 

His spine straightens. Syrupy molasses eyes harden. He searches your face, “What about Anika?” 

You’ve always wanted to ask him, but haven’t had the guts to do it. His response is exactly why you’ve abstained from digging into the topic. When her name comes up, he bristles. Becomes serious and guarded. It’s so unlike him. 

While you could read any tabloid magazine and get details on the subject from a third party, you haven’t, because you want him to tell you. Willingly. But tomorrow you’re going to his house… where he lived… with her. And you know nothing about their relationship. 

“Why didn’t it work?” you inquire.

He releases a deep breath and shakes his head, averting his gaze to the ceiling, “So many reasons.” 

“Like what?” you crawl across the carpet on your hands and knees, grabbing your drink and taking a long pull before settling next to him. The peppermint burn makes you grimace. 

“It was just…” he shrugs, “Fucked. I dunno,” his head rolls on his shoulders to meet your eyes, “Do you know how we met?” 

You shake your head. 

“I was on the set of this movie, and she worked at the hotel where we were filming. They kept us there for months, like fucking hostages, it was a total shitshow,” he stops and chuckles, then looks down at the glass in his lap, “Anyway. I was trying to find someone to hook up with, and she agreed, but only if I’d marry her.” 

“Dieter, no–” you gasp, eyes widening, “Oh my god, you did not marry her just to fuck her, did you?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and raises his eyebrows, “Well–“

“Shut up, oh my god!” you smack his shoulder and he starts laughing, then takes a sip of his drink. 

The cheeky grin he’s holding falls into something more somber, and he tells you, “No, really, it was… more than that. She was persistent. She wanted to know me. Really know me. And, you know, ever since my career took off, nobody wanted anything like that with me. Something real, you know? Just a bunch of fucking sycophants. So, I don’t know, I was skeptical of her.” 

“I think you had a right to be,” you murmur, searching his profile. 

He glances over at you and flashes a wry smile, then faces forward again, “She was the one to revive me when I OD’d. Saved my fucking life. After we escaped, we went to meet her dad and I, uhhh… I asked for his permission to marry her,” he chuckles and shakes his head, “He refused. But I was persistent, just like she was with me. We followed his rules while we stayed with him, sleeping in separate rooms, stayed sober, went to fucking church. I fought for his approval. And when he gave it to me, we got hitched immediately.” 

“Why did you need to do all this to fuck her? Was she a virgin or something?” you tilt your head and furrow your brow, then backtrack, “Sorry–that’s not my business, sorry.” 

“She was, yeah,” he raises the glass to his lips and swallows a hefty gulp. 

“How old was she?” 

“Twenty-six,” he tells you without looking at you. 

You nod and absorb this information. The jealousy machine roars inside your head. It draws comparisons between you and Anika. So young, so virtuous, so beautiful. Is this the kind of woman Dieter falls in love with? Someone so utterly unlike you? 

A sadistic yearning to know more twists under your skin. 

“What was your wedding like?” you ask now, resting your head on his shoulder as you take a sip of the liquid toothpaste.

“It was gorgeous. At this Venetian hotel, in their gardens. It was just our immediate families, you know, real intimate. Annie wore flowers in her hair and she was… so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, staring at the opposite wall like it’s a portal into the past. Like he’s still standing at the altar watching her walk down the aisle towards him, heart bursting with love and commitment. 

Your skin twists. Chest feels hollow. But you stay quiet and let him marinate in the nostalgia. He shakes his head, takes another drink, and continues in a low voice. 

“The first month was great. I took time off from work and we just…” Dieter trails off then, glancing over at you, as if to save you from the implication. 

“Fucked?” you laugh.

He snorts and nods, “Yeah. Honeymoon period, you know.” 

You hum knowingly and take a few sips from your glass, trying to drown the image. 

“When I started booking gigs again, I was away from home for weeks at a time. She fucking hated it. Whenever I came home, we would fight about how often I was there. She was… resentful. Withholding. I’d try to buy her things and apologize, spend all my time trying to win back her affection. Then when it worked, I would have to leave again, and it would start over. 

“She took it so personally. Thought I did it on purpose so I wouldn’t have to be around her,” his jaw gnashes back and forth as he stares into the distance, “I stopped arguing with her about it. It seemed pointless having the same conversation over and over. We grew so far apart, it was like… a canyon between us. It seemed impossible to cross.” 

He opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s going to say more, but then he meets your eyes and closes it. Looks away and takes a drink. 

“Do you think there could have been a compromise? A way for you to be around more?” you ask. 

His shoulders slump and his eyebrows draw together, “I don’t know. Maybe. But I never tried.” 

You hum and nod, bringing your glass to your lips, then tip up until its contents empty down your throat. The burn tightens your face into a wince. 

“Want another?” Dieter asks. 

A snowplow roars by and scrapes the street outside. Dieter imagines they’re pushing the thick, relentless snow into long, white piles that look like lines of blow on the sidewalk. A deep yearning tugs inside him when he pictures it. 

The alcohol is gone. The sun has set. From his experience, this is coke’s time to shine. 

He wonders what you would be like all coked out, expecting the thought to be amusing. 

But instead, it makes his stomach churn. 

Dieter looks down at you where you lay, wedged between his side and the back of the couch. Your ear shares a wall with the gentle thump-thump of his heart, your fingertips dancing across the slice of his soft belly peeking out between his sweater and pajama pants. 

The syrupy thick trance of booze holds you both in its grasp, veins buzzing, limbs heavy. 

The album Tea for the Tillerman is currently spinning on your record player in the corner. On The Road To Find Out transitions into Father and Son. You clear your throat and wiggle a little, and he awaits the words gathering at the base of your tongue. 

“This was my dad’s favorite album,” you murmur, then chuckle, “There was one night when I was a teenager, where he got super drunk, which he, like… never ever did. He woke me up and made me listen to it with him.” 

Dieter furrows his brow and nods in acknowledgment. He puts his thumb to work against the blackwork pear tattoo on your bicep. 

“He said it would be our secret and we can’t tell my mom,” you snort. A deep, blue sigh expands your ribcage and you exhale it across his chest, peppermint breath burning his nostrils when it wafts into his face, “When this song came on, he told me I needed to listen to it, because it’s everything he ever wanted me to know.” 

Dieter’s fingers find your hair, sliding between strands, petting you affectionately as you both listen. The air in your drafty apartment is chilled by the dropping outside temperature, but your body heat warms his body to perfection. 

“When did he die?” he questions softly. 

“Two weeks later,” you tell him, “It was this really aggressive brain cancer. Inoperable. A death sentence, basically. He knew for months, but they didn’t tell me about it until he was admitted to hospice. Didn’t want me to worry.” 

His throat tightens in a knot. He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps stroking your hair, silently urging you to continue. 

“Then it was just me and my mom,” you sigh, blinking your eyes open to look up at him, “And—You don’t know my mom yet, so you don’t understand how much of a shitshow that was, but trust me, it was not fucking fun.” 

You don’t know my mom yet. 

Yet. 

His heart flutters. This might be the first time you’ve acknowledged the possibility of this concrete stepping stone in your relationship: meeting the parents. The realization twists in his belly and numbs his fingers. 

“Anyway,” you mutter, thrumming your fingertips against his happy trail, “I just wish he could have been around longer, you know? He was my best friend.” 

“That’s hard,” he acknowledges, voice raspy with secondhand heartache for your loss. Tragedy. His mind starts connecting dots to Ethan. The sudden and traitorous death of another man in your life. 

He pulls you closer, squeezing his arm around your shoulders as he presses a kiss into the crown of your head. You crane your neck up to meet his eyes, a wistful smile playing on your lips. His brow creases as he studies your face, then stammers out, “I—I feel like I should say something else, but nothing feels right.” 

You frown, “I didn’t tell you because I want you to say anything. I told you because I trust you.” 

A hum sounds from Dieter’s throat as his stomach flips upside down. It dawns on him that you’re placing your heart in his hands. His wrists strain under its weight. How can something be so heavy, but so fragile at the same time? 

Guilt tightens the cords of his neck like he’s tuning a guitar. He regrets not telling you the whole truth about Anika. That it wasn’t just the chasm that had grown between them to end the relationship. 

“Hey,” you coo, pulling him from the depths of his thoughts. He raises his eyebrows in question. Your eyes search his and you grin, “Do you wanna go play in the snow?” 

You’re a maniac. 

He means that as a compliment, honestly, Lua, he really does. 

But if you throw one more goddamn snowball at him he’s going to lose his mind. 

Now you made yourself fall backwards into a foot of fresh, sticky snow, and you’re trying to get him to join you on the frozen ground. 

Fucking maniac.

“Come on!” you call to him, “It’s fun!” 

“It’s fucking cold is what it is,” he retorts, but trudges over to you anyway, Ethan’s boots sinking up to the collar with every crunchy step. The booze that saturated his veins earlier in the day is fading to a whisper, and he wishes he drank more, if only to make him feel warmer. 

When he reaches you, chest heaving from exertion, white puffs of breath steam from his lips, his head swings down to observe you. The ridge of snow outlining your body reminds him of the flimsy white plastic packaging that holds action figures in place within their boxes. 

You’re fully bundled up. Boots, snow pants, the whole nine yards. Both of you are. The only swath of your skin exposed to the frosty air is a square of your face peeking out from beneath the wool cap pulled down over your eyebrows and the green scarf billowing out of your jacket. 

“Do it, Dee!” you urge. 

He sighs and turns around, then shifts his weight backwards onto his heels until he tips over and lands in the soft snow with a muted thunk. Both of you start giggling and Dieter marvels at the sense of calm that sinks down into his bones, “Wow.” 

Barren black tree branches sway gently with the icy breeze at the edge of his vision, all shimmering with frost and highlighted with snow. The low clouds are glowing gold from streetlights and swollen with snowflakes that plummet to the ground, landing on your bodies with barely detectable thwaps. 

Snow insulates the air, and the only audible sign of life he can detect is your breathing. Like you’re the only two people on the planet right now. It lulls him into a sense of warmth and safety. 

“Who do you dream of becoming?” you ask. 

He frowns, “What, you mean like… Batman?” 

You start cackling at this. The sound tingles in his chest and makes him chuckle. 

“No! I mean like… when you imagine the future, what kind of person do you hope you’ll be?” 

“Like I said, Batman,” he deadpans, then starts giggling when you reach over and smack his arm playfully, “Ok, seriously, let me think. It’s been a while since someone’s asked me that.” 

“I guess you’re already living the dream, huh?” you murmur, “Rich and famous.”

The innocuous question turns his bones to lead. A tarpit opens up under his body and he starts to sink. He shakes his head and confesses, “It doesn’t feel like it most of the time.” 

“How so?”

Dieter hums as he contemplates how to answer this. 

“I know it sounds whiny, but… it’s so lonely. And don’t get me wrong, I love acting, I love the arts, it just… doesn’t feel like that’s what I’ve been doing lately. Creating art, I mean,” he sighs, “I don’t know when it stopped being about creation and started being about… well, feeding my ego, I guess. Staying relevant.” 

You hum and reach over, grabbing his gloved hand with yours, “So, tell me what Dieter’s heart wants him to be.” 

Your grip seems to pull him out of the darkness of the tarpit. A lifeline. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander into his heart to see what’s there. 

He wants to be true to himself. Happy. Free. Safe. Loved. 

“I want to be… exactly like this.”

Snow crunches around your head as you turn towards him, but you wait for him to continue.

“Lua, I—I don’t know, it’s like… I feel the most like myself when I’m with you, you know?” Dieter breathes, shaking his head up at the glowing sky, “Like when I’m with you I’m at home. It’s crazy, what even is that?” 

It’s silent for a moment before you whisper, “It’s love, Dee.” 

“Holy shit,” Dieter bolts upright and looks down at you, and you’re looking up at him with that big, beautiful smile that takes up your whole face, and he beams, “Holy shit, you’re right. I fucking love you.” 

You start to giggle and bring your gloved hand to cover your face, “I love you, too.” 

“Oh my god,” he laughs and smiles, then scoops you out of the snow and squeezes you as tight as he can. You squeal and throw your arms around his neck, using it as leverage to climb into his lap and wrap your legs around his waist. 

The snow gear makes every movement cumbersome and awkward, but your lips manage to find his, and you barrage him with gleeful kisses that quickly escalate in intensity. 

Heated vapor clouds of breath warm your faces. He rolls his tongue against yours and groans at how perfectly soft it is. 

Suddenly the snow gear feels like a prison. 

“Should we go inside?” you huff, grazing your nose against his. He nods and pulls you in for one more lingering kiss. 

As the two of you follow the path of your footsteps, Dieter looks back at the imprints your bodies left in the snow. The place where your hands met. And he knows now, like he’s always suspected, that he’ll never be the same. 

Dieter compiles all the blankets and pillows in your apartment on the living room floor in front of the gas fireplace while you stand at the stove, stirring hot chocolate ingredients together in a saucepan over a low flame. 

“Should I put on some music? Set the mood?” he asks while flipping through your collection of records. 

“Dieter Bravo, are you trying to seduce me?” you call back to him with a cheeky grin. 

He giggles, then says, “Oh, yeah, have I not done that yet?” 

Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys starts projecting across the apartment. It warms your skin like sunshine. 

Dieter rounds the corner, so you turn to face him, watching in admiration at the way he sways his body to the beat and sings along with the lyrics. A smile stretches across your face when he points to you and belts out, “I wish that every kiss was NEEEEEVER ENDING—”

“Beautiful, Dee,” you laugh, covering your face as he sambas into the kitchen, then wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. 

“Oh wow you’re making some serious hot chocolate,” he observes from over your shoulder. 

“What, do you think I have packets of powdered hot chocolate?” you snort and raise an eyebrow, “You should better.” 

He chuckles at his, then hints, “It looks fucking delicious.” 

“It’s almost done,” you say, then pull back to cup his cheeks in your palms, meeting his brown eyes, “Do you wanna smoke?” 

“Way ahead of you,” he plucks a joint out from behind his ear and plugs it between his lips, then steps back and starts patting his pockets to find a lighter. 

“Wait, wait—let me finish this,” you hold up your index finger and spin around, stirring the steaming pot of hot chocolate. 

Dieter rifles around the kitchen and finds two mugs, then sets them on the stove. He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, “Our flight out is at 9 tomorrow morning, by the way.” 

Your pulse jumps, and you breathe, “Ok.”

He reaches out to grab your free hand. His thumb works against your skin and you bring your eyes to meet his when he murmurs, “It’s gonna be fine, love. Piece of cake.” 

“For you, maybe,” you mutter, then cast your gaze down to the fully-incorporated hot chocolate. You flip the burner off and sigh, “I’m so nervous. What if I say something stupid, or wrong or—or do something to embarrass you—”

“Louella,” he cuts you off, and your eyes flick to his. They’re gooey and warm. A tingle of affection starts across your chest. He tells you, “I will be there with you every step of the way. We’re gonna get through this together, ok? I promise.” 

“Ok,” you nod, then take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, “Ok. Just—you know, so you know, I’m probably gonna need you to tell me that like every ten minutes.” 

“Should we come up with a secret signal?” he asks. 

This brings a smile to your face, and you nod, “Like what?” 

After thinking on this a moment, Dieter releases you and balls his hands into fists, pressing them together with his thumbs pointing towards the ceiling, then moves them in a circle. 

You chuckle and copy the action, “That?” 

“Yeah,” he grins and nods, “It means ‘together.’” 

Your smile grows impossibly wide as you repeat the sign, then you ask, “Ok now is there one for ‘get me the fuck out of here’?”

He snorts and lays one hand flat, palm facing the ceiling, his other hand into a lazy thumbs up on top of the outstretched palm, like it’s some kind of a plate, and raises both hands. 

You mirror the sign a few times. 

“Help,” he explains, letting his hands fall to his sides. 

You reach out and grab them with a smile, pulling him closer, “Do you know sign language?”

He frowns and shrugs, “I know enough to get by.” 

“Is there a reason you learned it or was it, like, just because?” you tilt your head in curiosity. 

“Well,” he scrunches his nose up and shifts his weight to one leg, “I had a fan approach me once, they were deaf, and I didn’t understand the signs so they had to write everything out on this little pad of paper. It seemed like it was a pain in the ass for them,” he shrugs again, “I figured I should learn it after that. Communicate better, you know.”

Your heart swells so wide it makes your chest ache, and you smile, “That’s so sweet.” 

“Speaking of sweet,” he diverts, eyes flicking to the steaming pot on the stove, “Can I have some?” 

You nestle into Dieter’s handcrafted love nest on your living room floor. Heat from the fireplace licks your skin. Hot chocolate settles in your belly. The plush blankets and pillows hug your body. It’s like you’re sinking down into a cloud.

Dieter sparks the joint and tosses the lighter aside, then stretches out beside you, placing a glass ashtray on his belly. The tip of the joint blazes orange as he takes a few sharp inhales. You curl up at his side, nuzzling into his shoulder. He hands the joint to you, then wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, hand settling at your waist. 

When he exhales, he lets the smoke creep out his mouth slow and thick, inhaling it back through his nose for a moment before blowing it at the ceiling. You watch with amusement as you take a long drag. The smoke blooms in your lungs, and a river of relaxation trickles out from your chest. It creeps up into your head and lifts you like helium. 

You pass it back to him and exhale, asking, “Do you remember when we tripped at Katie’s apartment with Parker? When we became friends?” 

Dieter takes two hits, then rolls the joint against the ashtray, sloughing spent ash off the cherry before handing it back, “Obviously I do.” 

His words form around the smoke as he exhales, coming out muffled and scratchy. 

“Wasn’t that weird? That we ended up meeting like that?” you take a puff off the joint and amend your question, “I mean, like I know we met before, but not like that, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, his fingers gripping into your side. A lazy, glowing tingle branches out from the touch. 

You pass the joint to him and close your eyes to revel in its wake, taking a deep, peaceful breath as you murmur, “I’m so glad it happened like that.” 

He takes a hit, then gives you a squeeze for attention. Your eyes flutter open to meet his, then they drop to the fountain of smoke curling out between his lips. His eyebrow quirks and your face lights up when you understand. 

You prop yourself up and lean in close, brushing your lips against his, soaking up the sweet shimmer of pleasure that trickles down your spine. His hand slides up your body, fingers slipping into your hair, and he pulls you in closer. Your mouth seals to his, and he exhales, dilating your lungs with secondhand smoke. 

When you pull back, you blow the smoke aside. His gaze lingers on your face and heats your skin. His fingers twitch and you hum in approval, then he closes his fist in your hair. 

A gasp escapes you. His throat rumbles. Eyes darken. He raises the joint to your mouth and you take a hit, then bring your lips to his and blow. His chest expands under the force. He tilts his head away and exhales at the ceiling. 

Neither of you break eye contact when his hold on your hair tightens.

The strands pull taut against your scalp. Your mouth gapes open in a moan. 

He grits his teeth, inhaling with a hiss, hips jerking upward. The feral noise wriggles into your ears and twists around inside you, dousing your insides with gasoline. When you lick your lips, his gaze flicks to your mouth, and he rumbles, “Stick out your tongue.”

You follow his instruction, stretching your tongue out flat against your chin, batting your eyelashes. He pulls you close to lick the stretched out muscle. His velvet tongue drags along yours, up into the wet open cavern, lapping away at the smooth insides of your cheeks, the ridges on the roof of your mouth, every soft, electric tissue he can reach. As he carries out this laborious worship, moans echo against the backs of your throats with increasing severity. 

Your body writhes with gooey, heated desire, but his grip on your head keeps it in place, the sting of your hair being pulled only fueling your ache. 

When his hips thrust up into nothing again, you can’t take it any more. You need them to be thrusting into you right fucking now. You tug at his t-shirt and he pulls back to meet your eyes, face all glistening and wet from your combined spit. He recognizes the desire written across your features and pants, “Clothes.”

Dieter lets go of your hair and sits up, sending the ashtray tumbling onto the blanket. He mumbles, “Fuck,” and he flips it right side up, then extinguishes the joint’s dwindling orange tip  against the glass. 

While you pull your shirt off, he’s trying to brush black ash off the blanket, but ends up just smearing it around, and you tell him, “It’s fine, take care of it later.”

He turns to respond, then realizes you’re topless. His gaze drops to your tits and a wide smile spreads across his face, “Amazing.”

“Dee,” you chuckle, flopping backwards to wriggle your pants off, “Focus!”

He releases a low, dopey murmur of laughter. A dead giveaway he’s stoned. 

“In my defense,” he tugs his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then pulls down his pants and kicks them off, “Fucking look at you, Lua, Christ almighty—”

He kneels between your feet and wraps his hands around your ankles, then slides them up the back of your legs, leaving shivering nerves in his wake as he rambles, “Seriously. It’s ridiculous, you’re just… fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful person on this planet, I swear to god.” 

The compliment swells in your chest. It tingles and flutters around inside you. Makes your fingers go numb. Your eyebrows press together and mouth gapes open as you search for the right words. 

He raises your ankles to his shoulders and scoots closer, closing his eyes as he presses a wet kiss against your calf, then hums to himself and says, “Correction: Most beautiful person in the universe.” 

You try to retreat from the blistering intensity of his statement, chuckling, “You never know, there might be some super hot aliens out there—”

“Mm-mm,” he hums in disagreement, kissing your other calf, shuffling forward a few more inches. His hands slide further up your legs, smoothing along the backs of your thighs. 

You gasp at the shiver that rolls across your skin. He plants a reverent kiss on each knee, leaving little wet pools that glow in the firelight. Your eyelids flutter at the trickle of warmth this inspires between your legs. 

“Dee,” you whisper, and he meets your eyes while nuzzling his cheek against your knee. The tickle of his facial hair sends your heart racing. Your stomach flips as you tell him, “You… you make me feel beautiful. Like… really beautiful.”

His gaze goes all doughy and soft as he searches your face. 

“I love you,” you breathe. The phrase holds all the weight it did the first time. You never thought you’d say to another person again. Not like this. 

Your words hang in the air for one moment before they really hit him. 

When they do, and they sink in, you see all the air leave his lungs. 

He climbs on top of you, folding your body in half, letting his engorged cock settle between your thighs. His lips meet yours with intensity. 

The kiss deepens, and his velvet tongue rolls soft against yours. You trail your hands through his hair, down his neck, across his chest, around his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin against your palms as your mouths unite again and again. 

His hips jerk, and you both moan at the friction. He follows the sensation, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, rolling his hips, sliding his length between your swollen, parted lips, up against your throbbing clit. 

You start whimpering and working against him, delighting in the heated pool of pleasure swirling deep inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he pants, mouth gaping open as he looks down between your bodies, “Getting my cock all wet, not even inside you yet, holy fuck—”

Dieter sits back on his haunches, just out of reach, and you reel at the loss of his body heat, arching your back as you whimper and pout. 

“Hold your legs for me, love,” he instructs, pushing your thighs back so you’re all splayed out for him. You hook your hands at the creases of your knees. 

“Fucking perfect, just like that,” he groans, then grabs the base of his cock and slaps it against your pussy. The weight of this impact sends pleasure rippling across your body. 

You gasp, then nod in approval. 

“You like that, baby?” he grinds out, laying a wet smack smack smack against your clit. Your eyelids flutter shut as sharp waves of pleasure wash over you. 

“Oh my fucking god, Dee—” you choke out, nodding as you look up at him, “Do it again.”

His throat rumbles in response, eyes growing noticeably darker, brows pressing together, mouth gaping open as he grants your request. 

Smack smack smack 

Your hips jerk on their own volition with each slap, blood heating and pooling thick at your center. 

“Fuck—” you moan through gritted teeth. Your body cries out for more, and you plead, “Put it inside me. I need it, I need you—”

“Oh yeah, you need me to fill that pretty little pussy?” he purrs, nudging the head of his cock against your entrance, “Is that what you need, love?” 

You whimper and nod, trying to work your hips against him, trying to incentivize him to give you more.

Dieter sucks through his teeth and brings his thumb to your clit, drawing tight circles that vibrate down into your body. His hips delve forward just enough to push the head of his member inside you. Heat branches out from between your legs and your limbs start to shake as the tingling pleasure clings to your insides. 

“I bet you can cum just like this, can’t you? You’re going to, aren’t you, Lua? Just the tip of my fat cock getting you off?”

You start to take big breaths of air as pressure swells under his touch and you manage to choke out, “Yes—yes yes yes I’m gonna cum—fuck, don’t stop—”

He groans, rubbing your clit faster, and arousal bubbles at your center as he rasps, “That’s right, love, just let go, I want you to cum for me just like this, fuck yes—”

Throbbing heat accumulates inside you, its pressure building and building until you reach capacity. 

You buckle and break, ecstasy flooding out from your center, washing over your body, swallowing you whole. Your pussy pulses around the head of his cock, and you release a guttural moan at the ceiling while Dieter coos, “Gooood, fuck yes, there we go.” 

He continues to massage your clit even when your body starts to twitch at the stimulation. 

“Oh my god, Dee,” you whine.

He grins down at you, slowing his touch to a stop, then slides his palms up your thighs until he reaches your hands and purrs, “I got it from here, love.” 

You let go of your legs and your shaky arms fall slack on either side of your head. 

When you meet his gaze, it’s dark and wanting. It flutters inside you and draws your attention to the deliciously thick tip of him still engulfed inside you. Your tongue slides against the tender skin of your lips and you watch his eyes flutter as you arch into him, giving you both just enough friction to spark a fire. 

His hips start to roll in shallow, tediously slow thrusts. Your heart picks up speed and a shiver of pleasure shoots up your middle. He presses his eyebrows together and his mouth gapes open with a throaty moan. 

The way he’s looking at you, his eyes all heated and amorous, searching your face with wonder, glancing at your mouth like he’s holding back from kissing you… it tugs at your insides.

“Dieter,” you breathe and reach out to him, “Come here, kiss me.”

He dives at you, crushing his lips against yours, groaning at the contact, kissing you with passion that blooms at your center and makes you gasp. 

Your hands wrap around his shoulders and you bury your fingers in his curls, pulling him closer, kissing him harder, rolling your tongue against his as he starts to rut into you faster, deeper, each thrust fucking electric and consuming. 

His forehead meets yours and he pants, “You’re fucking perfect, Lua, Jesus fuck—I—I fucking love you. I wanna fuck you every day—”

You whimper and nod, “Yes yes yes fuck yes—”

“Ev—every day until I die, I swear to god—fuck—”

“Say it again,” you work against his hips, lost in the devastating ecstasy of him stretching you over and over, “Say you love me.”

“I love you, Louella,” he groans, and he starts kissing you again, messy and needy, proof of the words he’s gasping against your mouth between kisses, “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

And it’s fucking insane, how it feels like you’re on an entirely different plane of existence, in a dimension where it’s just him and you in that shining, iridescent vessel of belonging, and it’s perfect and all-encompassing, his lips, the heat of his body on yours, hot puffs of breath containing his admission of love, the way he’s filling you again and again, and it just feels right, like you were each crafted with the other in mind, meant to be together. 

Pleasure twists and aches at your core, burning hotter with each thrust, and you’re whimpering against his mouth, “Fuck fuck fuck, Dee, don’t stop—”

He moans and drives into you faster, “Wouldn’t fucking dare—wanna feel that cunt squeeze the life from me, baby—”

Static starts crackling and buzzing hot at the base of your spine, stealing your breath with a sharp gasp as it expands wider and wider, and you dig your nails into his back, muscles tightening and clenching as the sensation gathers speed and distance and it sucks you into nothingness like a black hole before ecstasy explodes across your body and you release a choked sob, “F—FUCK—”

Dieter moans against your cry, rutting into you frantically, “Oh my fucking— ” and the words escape him, body shuttering, face twisting up with pleasure as he finds his release inside you with a few sharp thrusts. 

He gasps and his hips slow to a stop. 

His sweaty forehead presses against yours and he pants, “That was—wow—”

Bliss is still shimmering under your skin, fluttering down like the snowflakes falling onto the ground outside, and you giggle, “Fucking awesome?”

He laughs breathlessly at this and wraps his arms around you, scooping you up as he rolls onto his side. His lips meet yours for a sleepy, languid kiss, and he confirms, “Fucking awesome.” 

You gather your pillows from the love nest on your living room floor and start towards the bedroom as Dieter grabs your comforter. 

“Oh shit,” you hear him mumble, and you turn around to see him staring at the black ink stain. He glances up at you, “Is that from the ashtray? Fuck, sorry—”

Your heart clenches in your chest and you shake your head, “Oh–no, that’s um… that’s ink, I haven’t been able to get it to lift.”

He frowns and tilts his head at it, then looks back up at you, “Did you try rubbing alcohol?”

You blink and shake your head, “No.”

“Works like a charm,” he shrugs, then tosses the comforter over his shoulder and yawns as he moseys towards the bedroom, passing you while you find yourself rooted in place, staring at the stain. 

The squeak of Dieter collapsing on your bed sounds from behind you, then he calls out, “Are you coming?” 

You shake yourself out of the trance and clear your tight throat, then turn to join him. 

[ Next Chapter ]

[hopelesscalico]

YAY TAG GAME TIME!!!!!!!

tagged by: iso @zoidbrg !!!!!! 🫶🫶🫶

currently reading: omg i have like nooooooo drive to read lately…. T_T i hav been halfway though harrow the ninth for like months…. I WILL FINISH IT EVENTUALLY THOUGH I WILL

favorite color: HOT PINK!!!!! specifically this one (or anything close to it) i love me a good warm pink

last song i listened to: have been really bumping killer queen by queen lately….. a great classic

last movie i watched: i don’t think i’ve seen anything since i saw the mario movie with my friends a while ago!! it wasn’t like life changing but it was pretty fun i liked it ^_^ i liked when luigi was there i like luigi

sweet vs spicy vs savory: i hav like. the single most egregious case of Cant eat spice at all so not spice but it’s kind of a toss up between sweet and savory… i think ultimately savory but only barely

currently working on: i just started a new drawing after not drawing at alllllll for a longass time…. who knows if i’ll finish it or not LOL :3 but dusty is there !! yay !!

tags: @minecraftpissblock @rin0a @reelgreatdad @kittyfight @crashed-on-mars @wolfecraft @ribombeee !!!!!

[soapsdish]

tag gamerules: favorite: movie, hobby, animal, character, color, place, season, album, food

movie: attack the block - 2011 had some banger movies and this was one of them. it's got everything one could hope for: great actors, superb acting, action, quirky weirdness, kickass aliens, and john boyega's movie debut! I could rewatch this right alongside the abyss ('84), the thing ('82) and battle los angeles (2011).

hobby: gaming! I'm a hardcore gamer that likes just about every genre on the market but I'm particularly in love with horror/zombies (multiplayer so I can play with friends), action-adventure, and looter shooters.

animal: cats! I love pretty much all animals but these little land sharks hold a special place in my heart and my life. I've got two right now but I want more. My husband has to reign me in...even though he's just as bad. What can I say? we're cat parents.

character: g.i. joe was one of my favorite cartoons growing up and thus my love for military men and women bloomed. at first I had all the love for shipwreck and lady j but then this man appeared: sgt. ronald tadur aka Dusty (Rudat). he's a desert survival expert/specialist who is so damn good and loyal and wonderful that I still simp for him decades later. he will always be in my heart.

color: usually i'd just say black but, well, midnight blue is simply gorgeous and I've got an accent wall in my bedroom with gold leaves dotting it. it's such a pretty color.

place: the woods! I cannot live without trees surrounding me. I basically forced my husband (then bf) to move up with me because I refused to live in a city of any kind. before I really lost the ability to walk unaided I used to trek through the woods behind my grandparents house on the mountain and through the woods behind the little places I grew up in. (we moved a lot when I was younger). I still like taking a trail or two in a state park but I so freakin' miss being able to just get lost in the thick of'em and spend hours just exploring.

season: fall! i love watching the leaves and brush change, the pumpkins and gords starting to adorn street corners and window displays, pumpkin spice EVERYTHING, the cooler temperatures (sweater weather!!), and the coming of Halloween!

album: needtobreath's hard love - this album saw me through a rough patch and kept my heart filled with a soft kind of wonder. all the tracks are excellent but I've got such a hardon for HAPPINESS and the signature song hard love. honestly, i pretty much have a love affair with all their albums. Bonus: HAPPINESS, Bottom of a Heartbreak, I am Yours, and West Texas Wind are 100% blorbo songs.

food: stromboli!! omg I could eat this deliciousness every single day and not tire (not with how many combinations you can make). it's so good ;A;

Thanks so much for the tag: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

tags (if you'd like): @caroll-in @ex-umbra @tacticalanxiety @starlight-shades @deadbranch @losersimonriley (honestly I'd tag every single follower and mutual I have because I love learning things about people!)

[togeqii]

I meant K-Pop!! I haven’t found any good K-Pop fics lately and that’s why I wanted your recs lol sorry for the confusion :)

omg! yes i can definitely recommend a few good fics haha i haven't been an avid reader for a while but i Do have a few notable favorites! i'm kinda just taking this from my rec tag on wuahae lol but . i'm ngl all the fics by these authors are so good like if you like the writing (You Will ....) you should def check out their other fics in their masterlists! also if you like the fics pleeeaaase leave feedback in their askboxes or in their notes :( i know it would mean a lot to them because it always means a lot to me!

eat, play, love by @husbandhoshi

e2l romcom au .... really Reads like a romcom i can talk at length about this fic but also lily is just a great writer . it's just good fic!! the perfect amount of funny with a touch of angst and as always Real Genuine feeling . will always rec this one <3

gold rush by @dkfile

exes-to-lovers mingyu it is just SO scrumptious .... ci masters the art of the small town nostalgia haze and the dynamics in this fic are just MWAH . conflict is perfect, characterization is perfect ... if a fic is named after a tswift song you just know it has to be good!

parallels & almosts by @httplastic

vernon friends to lovers! it's almost wong kar wai esque the way peach writes their prose ... so so pretty. always so meaningful i loved reading and analyzing their words trying to dissect metaphors and double meanings :") the type of fic where i read and i go "i wanna write like that!!!" one of the top fics i'll go to when i wanna read a nice comfort fic in winter <3

those are the most recent ones i've read but here are a few honorable mentions from fics that were released a while ago but i think about almost daily . fics that rewrote my brain chemistry .

the times we couldn’t say goodbye (the times i loved you most) by @/husbandhoshi

SORRY this is another one by lily but its the one that made me follow her.... she just gets the Hoshster im sorry ..... also this fic deserves like 10 million notes with how it made me feel . fantasy au where hoshi is a wizard and yn is the innkeeper and even though hoshi isn't someone who Stays you're always going to be the one he returns home to . GUNSHOTS .

just us and the moon (till the sun starts waking) by @97-liners

THE FIC THAT MADE ME START CARATBLR ....... actuallyyyy just read all of jackie's fics 😁😁 i feel like i rave about this fic every chance i get but its deserved idc idc i come back to read it regularly . yn in this fic is so real like the me of last summer was bawling her eyes out because of how peeled i felt reading it...... anyway its fwb!woozi and Obviously that means don't read this fic if you're a minor but . but .... i became a changed woman after i finished it . Again the perfect amount of humor + angst + Implied smut without feeling gratuitous or out of place . my hall of fame for realsies.

other people's weddings by @neonunau

ok i Just checked after going back to link this fic and i saw its at 2k notes?!?!? deserved /srs . but Again it's giving romcom ... its f2l seungcheol but the way mads depicts him is SO chef's kiss. like if lily gives him the insufferable former frat boy energy with dusty cheeto fingers then Mads writes him as Sufferable college friend cheol. the yearning is so real from him . he holds your purse . swallows his feelings it practically gives him And you (the reader) constipation but every court needs their jester and he's happy to provide ..... not to mention the side characters are so funny its insane. humor is perfect . romance is perfect . writing is perfect ..... its just good fic!!!

[violetsiren90]

𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗣𝗘𝗢𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗜'𝗗 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥

Thank you for the tags @theharrowing, @eoieopda, @sabiekay, @kingofbodyrolls, and @crabby-libra!

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 | "Punchin' Bag" by Cage the Elephant

𝗙𝗔𝗩 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗥 | Peaches, dusty pinks, sage green, robin's egg blue, seafoam green, eggshell white, metallic gold, and heather grey (I always say "red" and it's not even on my list?? smh)

𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 | It's Okay To Not Be Okay (10/10 recommend omg, guys!)

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗬/𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧/𝗦𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗬 | ALL OF THE ABOVE

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗣 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦 | Falling in love with myself in my 30's.💛 I found a soulmate in my best friend at 17 years old. As of two years ago we live 10 minutes away from each other and her companionship makes my life such a rich one.

𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗢𝗕𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 | The bbq lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowls from the banh mi shop near my office. They are absolutely to die for and my coworker and I have been getting them at least once a week for lunch.

I'm super late to this so everyone's probably already been tagged, but if you haven't and you'd like to participate please feel free to use me as a tagger!

[touchastar]

Rules: tag 10 people you want to get to know better! Tagged by: @meroisachurro (omg i just realized what ur url is now... wrow) (i’ve been reading it all as one singular word..) (thank u for tagging me btw! i love these things)

Relationship status: very happily taken! :)

Favorite color: oh this is tough... i like the shade of brown on tabby cat bellies. i like the colors of the sunrise and the sunset. dark dusty purples are a current favorite, though! last month my favorite color was forest / sage green. lately i’ve been really getting into the way bright colors look against dark backgrounds.

Song stuck in my head: lament of the angel - the binding of isaac

Last song I listened to: 666 kill chop deluxe - noisemaker remix

Three favorite foods: gas station sushi, crab rangoon, and anything w buffalo sauce

Last thing I googled: machine scraping up blood art installation

Dream trip: right now? i would love to just go visit my boyfriends house again and take long walks around the “neighborhood” (if you can call it that. its more like a collection of houses and some farm properties) as the sun is setting and watch for bugs jumping around in the grass while talking about our silly little characters. oh man and since i have hearing aids now, i could probably hear crickets and frogs! it’s really pretty out there, in the middle of nowhere. it’s so flat compared to where i live, i could see clear to the horizon, blocked by absolutely nothing.

Tagging: no pressure to fill this out! @inkedrobotics @ap0stle @luvisia @macabrevampire @pumpkingrand @bunnysfarms @groupwest @comfortofalaughtrack and the mutual reading this!

[hotluncheddie]

rules: tag 10 people you want to get to know better (or more if you want. I’m not the boss of you)

tagged by @helixferrano thank u these are always so fun !!! (i'm going ireland this year i'll think of u when i'm there, send u the vibes <3)

relationship status: i have a lovely partner (said in a cowboy way but also a love way)

favorite colors: lavender :3c

song stuck in my head: 'like crazy' by jimin !

last song i listened to: 'people are vomit' by the used :)

3 favorite foods: ugh idk

bibimbap

cheeseburger

pizza

last thing I googled: 'bartender shaking painting' (this lmao for a dumb tweet)

dream trip: i wanna see the northern lights! also tokyo!!

anything I want right now: wanna reduce my overall anxiety a little more again, getting a bit high lately im >:( about it

tagging: 10 is a lot omg. no pressure. gonna go with some recent mutuals, and not so recent hehe. hi !!! :)

@russianoatmeal @momotonescreaming @valkyrieskyy @outpastthebrakers @dustie-bun @johnnyslittlemonster @gaydrieeen @lizzicleromance @straight4joekeery @bayouteche

and anyone else who wants to ! tag me if u do !!

[lorecatchup]

It's time for Stardust's Wrestlemania debut but first I get to watch my favorite Stardust video of all and some pre WM interviews for extra, secret lore, let's go!

It starts out a little Stardusty and defensive and competitive but R-Truth is so nice and treats them with respect and brings out their fun side and Cody drops his guard and is comfortable enough to play as himself and have fun with a new friend and it's all just very cute, it's been awhile since Cody was having fun and being his goofy lil himbo self

The way he says "two million miles" is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life

Interestingggggg

Stardust has been to Mars and says it's "like New Mexico"

Stardust says it was "very difficult to be mean to someone so sweet", talking about Cody yelling at his dad

He also says winning the IC title is 1 of three important pieces he needs to get, one other being the tag team title and the third is a mystery (I'm guessing it's the WWE Championship, to finish the story 👀)

Stardust describing Cody: comparing him getting out of bed to Arnold in T2 (again) "muscular, sex personified, handsome son-of-a-gun"

He has "nothing but love for Dusty Rhodes"

"I could care less about Goldust but I do care for Dusty Rhodes"

But I think that's Cody's position deep down too, even though he's kind of mad and hurt right now (I do think he cares about Goldust and Dustin though lmao, he's just petty)

He shouts out Seth 2 (two) times 👀

Talking about his loss to Goldust at Fastlane

He says out of everyone at NXT he'd want to wrestle, by a long shot, it's Finn Balor

Stardust knows what grindr is

"If anything could make the light of Stardust burn out, I think it would be Cody Rhodes if he ever came back"

"/maybe/ like kryptonite?... there's something about that pairing, I feel like you can't have one and the other"

Cody embracing his identy again (and leaving wwe, I maintain that Stardust is tied to wwe) would make Stardust fade into the background

He's singing go your own way by fleetwood mac

His favorite musical act is Ziggy Stardust, obviously

Stardust doesn't ever truly relax, "if Stardust was to ever relax it would be in that moment of ~ascension~" meaning climbing to the top of the ladder and getting Cody's IC title back

Omfg okay

Stardust made a point to mention Dusty's dad wasn't just a plumber he was a union plumber

Stardust doing a Dusty impression 🥹

Stardust doing a dick sucking goof with his microphone WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT and his little laugh omg

BREAKING NEWS: STARDUST IS "HAVING AN AFFAIR" WITH EDEN, he WAS talking about them in that interview with her OKAY

Pt 2

Okay, so we know Stardust fucks now lol

Using the word "affair" is very interesting, because like, Stardust being in the picture when Cody and Eden are together is like, a threesome not an affair, so like, I guess Stardust and Eden are seeing each other with minimal Cody interference? Interestingggggg or he's just being a little goofy guy and they're just having threesomes (most likely)

Omfg, this just in: no dick out for Wrestlemania, dang it

Stardust is talking about himself saying it's "his" first Wrestlemania and stuff, Cody is hereeee

Okay, Wrestlemania 31 next!