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ch4nb4ng · 1 year

Text

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so.

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger.

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered.

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display.

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest.

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then.

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh.

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision.

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed.

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything.

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child.

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of.

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child.

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded.

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more.

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.”

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?”

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly.

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents.

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself.

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one.

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples.

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers.

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific.

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice.

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed.

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal.

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.”

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen.

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge.

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

#bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan smut #bang chan scenario #bang chan imagine #bang chan x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids x reader #ch4nb4ng

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houseofanticipation · 1 year

Text

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

#r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #cvmslvt #cvmdump #rapekink #rapetoy #breeding toy #mind conditioning #Library 🜞

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ladamedusoif · 6 months

Text

Room Service

A Dave York x F!Reader one-shot

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Word count: 2290

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ basically PWP; smut central; alcohol consumption; strong language; thigh riding; oral sex (F receiving); fingering; light bondage; unprotected PiV; praise kink; a little aftercare; sweetness among the smut. No physical description of F! Reader beyond her outfit (dress, stockings, high heeled shoes).

Summary: You’ve been summoned to Room 755 of the conference hotel by a man you know only as Dave.

A/N: Does this need explanation? I’m firmly in the Dave York Pit. I had to get this out of my system. Smut is the result.

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date!

The trick with passing unnoticed through the lobby and to the elevators is to walk like you should be there. Dress like you should be there. Don’t give them any reason to think you aren’t actually a guest at this glossy but generic business hotel, the kind of place that makes all of its money on conferences and overnights on company accounts.

The kind of place you’ve been called to before, for exactly the same reason.

Room 755. You have taken a note of it in your phone. You get into the elevator, adjust your belted trench-coat and dress, and check your hair in the mirror before pressing “7”.

He had confirmed he’d be there at this time. A clear schedule for the rest of the day, he said, and he would like to make the most of it.

You walk confidently down the neverending hallway towards the hotel room. A firm knock. You can sense that he’s peeking through the peephole to make sure it’s who he’s expecting. And then it opens.

”Hi there. You found it okay, then?”

”I did.” You step past him into the room, undoing your belt and unbuttoning the coat to reveal the fitted red dress beneath. “So what do I call you? What would you like me to call you?”

He double-locks the door to avoid any unwanted interruption before taking your coat.

“Dave is fine.”

***

Dave offers you a glass of red wine and you sit beside him on the small sofa near the hotel room window. You can feel his eyes roving over your body, taking you in inch by inch. Your high heels. Your stockings. The glimpse of your thighs. The way the dress clings perfectly to your tits.

He sips his wine and licks his lips lasciviously, edging closer to you.

“So you’ve got a free afternoon, Dave?”

He nods.

“Completely free. And I’d like to enjoy it.”

You cross and uncross your legs as you shift your body and lean forward, letting the line of your tits brush ever so slightly off his chest. “That can be arranged. I’d like to enjoy it too, though.”

Dave’s dark eyes sparkle with lust and he grins, eyes locked on your lips. “I won’t have a good time if you don’t.”

You chuckle. “I’ll hold you to that, Dave. Even if I’m the one providing the…service.”

He whines softly, so quietly you almost miss it. But it’s there. You can feel it. Sense how much he wants it. How much he wants you.

“So with that in mind… where would you like me to start?”

Your fingers find the sturdy muscle of his thigh, trailing over the grey fabric of his dress pants and nudging closer and closer to his crotch.

Dave gasps as he reaches for you, leaning in for a kiss.

“Tell me, Dave. I’m at your service.”

”Get on my leg. My…fuck, get on my thigh.”

You break the kiss and stand up to hitch the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lacy tops of the stay-up stockings you’ve chosen for today. He instantly reaches for your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he pulls you towards him.

“Get on my fucking thigh, baby.”

You straddle his firm, thick leg and wrap your arms around his neck. Dave’s dark eyes are burning, now; the lusty sparkle replaced by wanton desire and need. He puts his hands on your hips and starts to move them for you, dragging over and back.

“Ride like this.”

You nod obediently and kiss him deeply as you start to move, crying out at the sensitivity of your swollen clit and pussy dragging over the fabric. Dave never takes his eyes off you, occasionally grabbing your ass firmly or reaching for your tits.

“Fuck, Dave, feels so fucking good. Wanna get off on you like this.”

He begins to suck at your neck, making you moan loudly with pleasure and sending a wave of wetness to your core as you fuck his thigh faster and harder.

“Let me hear you, baby. C’mon. I want to hear you.”

You give him what he wants. It’s his time, after all. You grip his shoulders and ride his leg like a woman possessed until you come on him with a roar. Even before you’ve lifted yourself off him, you know there’s going to be a wet patch.

“Good girl.” He pulls you to him, still sitting on the sofa, and presses his face to your belly. His long, clever fingers work their way under the folds of your pulled-up dress and find the lace trim of your panties, tugging down the fabric over your ass and thighs. He takes you in, encouraging you to part your legs slightly, before he buries his face against your pussy, bending and tilting his head just so in order to sweep his tongue through your soaking folds.

”Taste good, Dave?”

He nods, lapping up your wetness like it’s his last meal. “Fucking delicious. Fucking delicious little pussy, so fucking sweet and wet for me.”

When he breaks away you see your own slick glistening over his perfect mouth and the tip of that beautiful nose. You lean in and kiss him deeply.

“Tasting yourself?”

You nod. “With a little of you mixed in.”

He laughs, low and purposeful. “Get on the bed. Keep the dress on.”

***

He kneels at the foot of the bed, looking up at you sitting pretty above him.

“Like butter wouldn’t melt.”

You huff a laugh. “Appearances are deceptive, you know.”

His broad hands start to caress your thighs, slipping over and back against the silky nylon stockings and hitching up your dress a little further with each pass.

He hisses at the sight of your flesh, the tops of your thighs bare above the stockings, the promise of your wet, warm, perfect cunt primed and ready for him.

“Lie back.”

You follow his orders. Dave’s hands move down to the bend of your knees as he tugs your body forward until his nose is rubbing gently off your pussy. You whine with anticipation, thighs pressed against his cheeks. He’s clean shaven, but with enough stubble to tease and titillate your sensitive skin.

“What do you want to do to me, Dave? I was here for you, not the other way around.”

He chuckles and presses his tongue flat against you, sending your hips bucking upwards. “I want to eat you out until you’ve come twice more. And then I want to fuck you until you come again around my cock.” He traces a slow circle over your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue, pulling a cry of need from your throat.

“Does that sound okay to you?”

You nod, desperate for his mouth to be back on you.

“Words.”

“That sounds fucking perfect to me, Dave.”

He looks up at you for a moment, hips and pussy exposed for him, dress hitched around your waist, black stockings emphasising the flesh of your thighs. His hardening cock twitches in his pants, and he undoes the belt and tugs down the zipper before focusing again on you.

And then he pauses.

“You okay?”

He stands up and walks around to the side of the bed, belt in hand. “Arms above your head, baby.”

You don’t break his penetrating gaze as you follow his instructions, stretching your arms out above you. A mewl of pleasure and submission escapes your lips as he wraps his belt around your wrists: not too tightly, he checks; just enough to keep your hands together.

Dave settles back between your thighs, taking a final look at your prone form before licking a long, slow stripe through the lips of your pussy. Your hips buck and writhe at the sensation, the feeling intensified by the restraints on your wrists.

He chuckles as he comes back for more, and he makes good his promise. You come for a second time as he’s sucking on your clit, for a third time as he’s flicking the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud while his fingers work you from the inside, expertly finding and massaging the perfect spot until he has you wrung out, boneless; slick covering his clean-shaven face and coating your inner thighs.

He lies beside you, naked now, shirt and dress pants discarded, and undoes the belt from around your wrists before pulling you tight to him, enveloping you in a kiss that sets your body aflame. Dave carefully helps you sit up and unzips your dress before easing it off you, pausing to admire you stretched out before him in your bra and stockings.

His broad palm follows the curves of your hips and belly, eyebrows furrowed as he studies your body from head to toe.

“You said you’d fuck me until I came again.”

Dave’s eyes sparkle as he chuckles, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “I did.”

“And…?”

“And…how would you like it?”

You sit up and caress his face, placing gentle kisses on his nose and forehead, before moving into position on all fours.

“Like this, I think. Does this work for you?” You can’t resist offering him a little wiggle of your ass, and you smirk with satisfaction when you hear Dave moan in response behind you.

He shifts into place, hands squeezing your ass and stroking your back before slowly sinking into your pussy with a long, low whine of pleasure. “It works fucking perfectly, baby.”

The angle is just right, and the combination of his rhythm, the feel of his cock massaging your most sensitive places, and his fingers seeking out your clit has you careening over the edge before long. Your ecstatic cries are muffled, thankfully, by the duvet and pillows as he tilts you forward and fucks you until your cunt flutters, delighted, around him.

He pulls out and watches you flop onto the mattress, chest rising and falling as you come down from your high.

“Good?”

“That’s…fuck. That’s one way of putting it.”

You reach for his cock, hard and ready, and languidly stroke it with one hand as you move to straddle him.

“Your turn.” He grins up at you. “Arms above your head.” He obeys, and you reach for his belt to return the favour before sinking down onto him, pussy still throbbing and sensitive from your own orgasms.

“Do you want to come for me?”

Your hips roll over and over in a perfect, steady rhythm that has Dave panting and moaning with every pass.

“Y-y-yes. Want to come.”

Pick up the pace, a little. He whines.

“Good boy, you’re so close.” You watch the flicker of excitement in his eyes at your praise, and take satisfaction in how well you can read him. “So good, baby. Good, good boy.”

You lean back a little, cupping his balls with one hand while the other reaches for his, bound and stretched above his head. Your fingers intertwine as you watch him edge closer and closer to release, pleasure written all over his face.

“Tell me when you want to come, Dave.”

He’s bucking up against you now, desperate for it, eyes closed and mouth open as his breath hitches and stutters.

“Now…need to come now. Now, baby.”

You purr the words into his ear.

“Come.”

He lets go with a roar, coming hard inside you until he has nothing left to give. Both spent, you flop back beside him on the bed, fingers tracing over the rivulets of perspiration on his beautiful, strong body.

Gently, you remove the belt, examining his wrists for any friction or pressure marks. He does the same in turn, turning your hands over gently as he studies the skin.

“I’ve got some skin balm stuff in the bathroom, if you’d like.” He kisses your palm with a kind of delicate care that belies the man who’d been begging to come just moments before.

“I’m fine.” Your eyes meet his, lost in the chocolate warmth of his hazy, post-coital gaze. “You want some, though?”

Dave shakes his head and pulls you to him for a kiss.

***

You weren’t supposed to fall asleep. You blink awake an hour later, naked under the hotel covers, Dave snoring lightly beside you.

“Dave. Dave.”

He mumbles as he warily opens one eye, turning to face you.

“Hi.”

“I fell asleep. Shit.”

His mouth meets yours before dropping to your breasts as he absentmindedly sucks on your nipples.

“‘S okay, though. Right? You were going to stay anyway.”

You feel the strong muscles of his forearms, fingertips following the pattern of the freckles speckled across his golden skin.

“You want me to stay, Dave?”

He furrows his brow. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Did you bring your bag?”

“I did. Left it in the car, though, just to - I dunno. Add to the atmosphere, I guess.”

Dave chuckles as he pulls you in again, his laugh resonating through your two bodies as they press together: warm, soft skin on skin; the dew of post-sex perspiration still fresh.

“Well, it fucking worked, baby.” He kisses your forehead affectionately and caresses your cheek. “And the kids didn’t mind going to Mai’s?”

You grin. “A long weekend at their cool single aunt’s house with a pool in the backyard? I didn’t see them for dust.”

He lies back and laughs. You nuzzle into his side, admiring the glint and gleam of your wedding band as you rest your left hand on Dave’s tummy.

A tell-tale rumble interrupts the blissed-out, post-coital mood.

“Hungry, are we, Mr York?”

Your husband smiles at you like a mischievous kid. “Worked up an appetite, baby.”

“Then let’s call room service. We’re not done here.”

(MDNI banner by @cafekitsune)

#room service fic #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #equalizer 2 #the dave york pit #davide yorque #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

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zvaigzdelasas · 10 months

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The Communist Party’s main theoretical journal has laid out a new ideological framework for the financial system that emphasizes the primacy of China’s top leader and Marxist principles. [...]

The Communist Party issued a detailed ideological statement on Friday in Qiushi, the party’s main official theoretical journal, that made clear that it expected banks, pension funds, insurers and other financial organizations in China to follow Marxist principles [...]

The Qiushi paper, which was being closely studied by bankers and economists in China, could cut against efforts by Beijing to show that the economy is open to investment even as it places a heavier hand on business.

Barry Naughton, an economist at the University of California at San Diego who has long studied China’s transition to a market economy, said that the document signaled that the finance sector would be subject to ever-tighter oversight and forced to serve government policies more actively.

“The financial sector will not be expected to push for market-oriented reforms or even necessarily maximize profit,” he said. “As a program for the financial sector, it is ambitious, disappointing and somewhat ominous.”[...]

“Politics will for sure further dictate China’s finance, effectively moving China even closer to how it was before the reforms started in 1978,” said Chen Zhiwu, a finance professor at the University of Hong Kong.

Some of the policy targets set forth in the essay would not be unusual as regulatory goals in the West. For example, it calls for banks to emphasize financial services for the “real economy,” which the party has long interpreted to include ample financing for the country’s industrial base.

But it also calls for a strong role in finance for [...] Marxist ideology generally. That follows a pattern that emerged for other sectors during the national congress of China’s Communist Party a year ago, but has been less apparent in finance — until now. [...]

Moody’s, the credit rating agency, announced on Tuesday that it was lowering its credit outlook for the Chinese government to negative. It had previously assigned a stable outlook for the country’s credit rating, which remains at A1, near the top of the ratings scale. [...]

Qiushi is the main journal providing pronouncements on China’s current ideology, which is known as Xi Jinping Thought on Socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era. The statement on Friday said that Mr. Xi’s speech to the financial conference, “is a valuable ideological crystallization formed by our party’s unremitting exploration of the path of financial development with Chinese characteristics.” [...]

“Politics affects all important areas, and economic or financial issues are themselves political issues,” he said. Indeed, Communist Party control over finance comes up repeatedly in the Qiushi statement. “We must unswervingly adhere to the centralized and unified leadership of the party Central Committee over financial work, uphold and strengthen the party’s overall leadership over financial work,” it said.

5 Dec 23

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effebot · 1 year

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Why Does a Business Need Video Conferencing to Be Successful?

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An online conference where two or more people communicate in real-time via the internet is known as Video conferencing. When utilizing a laptop, smartphone, or meeting room, a webcam combines Video and audio to build a digital face-to-face chat so you can see others' reactions while hearing what they're saying.

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As a competing business, you need Video conferencing to deliver more productivity to your customers. Video conferencing is now the life jacket for every remote working business. So, you should also start using it.

To proceed with reading, just click on this link: - Why does a business need Video conferencing to be successful?

#Video Conferencing #Multicaller #voice conferences and consultations #Conference Call Services for Businesses #Conference Call Service Providers

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

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Pluralistic: Leaving Twitter had no effect on NPR's traffic

I'm coming to Minneapolis! This Sunday (Oct 15): Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Monday (Oct 16): Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

Enshittification is the process by which a platform lures in and then captures end users (stage one), who serve as bait for business customers, who are also captured (stage two), whereupon the platform rug-pulls both groups and allocates all the value they generate and exchange to itself (stage three):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Enshittification isn't merely a form of rent-seeking – it is a uniquely digital phenomenon, because it relies on the inherent flexibility of digital systems. There are lots of intermediaries that want to extract surpluses from customers and suppliers – everyone from grocers to oil companies – but these can't be reconfigured in an eyeblink the that that purely digital services can.

A sleazy boss can hide their wage-theft with a bunch of confusing deductions to your paycheck. But when your boss is an app, it can engage in algorithmic wage discrimination, where your pay declines minutely every time you accept a job, but if you start to decline jobs, the app can raise the offer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

I call this process "twiddling": tech platforms are equipped with a million knobs on their back-ends, and platform operators can endlessly twiddle those knobs, altering the business logic from moment to moment, turning the system into an endlessly shifting quagmire where neither users nor business customers can ever be sure whether they're getting a fair deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Social media platforms are compulsive twiddlers. They use endless variation to lure in – and then lock in – publishers, with the goal of converting these standalone businesses into commodity suppliers who are dependent on the platform, who can then be charged rent to reach the users who asked to hear from them.

Facebook designed this playbook. First, it lured in end-users by promising them a good deal: "Unlike Myspace, which spies on you from asshole to appetite, Facebook is a privacy-respecting site that will never, ever spy on you. Simply sign up, tell us everyone who matters to you, and we'll populate a feed with everything they post for public consumption":

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

The users came, and locked themselves in: when people gather in social spaces, they inadvertently take one another hostage. You joined Facebook because you liked the people who were there, then others joined because they liked you. Facebook can now make life worse for all of you without losing your business. You might hate Facebook, but you like each other, and the collective action problem of deciding when and whether to go, and where you should go next, is so difficult to overcome, that you all stay in a place that's getting progressively worse.

Once its users were locked in, Facebook turned to advertisers and said, "Remember when we told these rubes we'd never spy on them? It was a lie. We spy on them with every hour that God sends, and we'll sell you access to that data in the form of dirt-cheap targeted ads."

Then Facebook went to the publishers and said, "Remember when we told these suckers that we'd only show them the things they asked to see? Total lie. Post short excerpts from your content and links back to your websites and we'll nonconsensually cram them into the eyeballs of people who never asked to see them. It's a free, high-value traffic funnel for your own site, bringing monetizable users right to your door."

Now, Facebook had to find a way to lock in those publishers. To do this, it had to twiddle. By tiny increments, Facebook deprioritized publishers' content, forcing them to make their excerpts grew progressively longer. As with gig workers, the digital flexibility of Facebook gave it lots of leeway here. Some publishers sensed the excerpts they were being asked to post were a substitute for visiting their sites – and not an enticement – and drew down their posting to Facebook.

When that happened, Facebook could twiddle in the publisher's favor, giving them broader distribution for shorter excerpts, then, once the publisher returned to the platform, Facebook drew down their traffic unless they started posting longer pieces. Twiddling lets platforms play users and business-customers like a fish on a line, giving them slack when they fight, then reeling them in when they tire.

Once Facebook converted a publisher to a commodity supplier to the platform, it reeled the publishers in. First, it deprioritized publishers' posts when they had links back to the publisher's site (under the pretext of policing "clickbait" and "malicious links"). Then, it stopped showing publishers' content to their own subscribers, extorting them to pay to "boost" their posts in order to reach people who had explicitly asked to hear from them.

For users, this meant that their feeds were increasingly populated with payola-boosted content from advertisers and pay-to-play publishers who paid Facebook's Danegeld to reach them. A user will only spend so much time on Facebook, and every post that Facebook feeds that user from someone they want to hear from is a missed opportunity to show them a post from someone who'll pay to reach them.

Here, too, twiddling lets Facebook fine-tune its approach. If a user starts to wean themself off Facebook, the algorithm (TM) can put more content the user has asked to see in the feed. When the user's participation returns to higher levels, Facebook can draw down the share of desirable content again, replacing it with monetizable content. This is done minutely, behind the scenes, automatically, and quickly. In any shell game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye.

This is the final stage of enshittification: withdrawing surpluses from end-users and business customers, leaving behind the minimum homeopathic quantum of value for each needed to keep them locked to the platform, generating value that can be extracted and diverted to platform shareholders.

But this is a brittle equilibrium to maintain. The difference between "God, I hate this place but I just can't leave it" and "Holy shit, this sucks, I'm outta here" is razor-thin. All it takes is one privacy scandal, one livestreamed mass-shooting, one whistleblower dump, and people bolt for the exits. This kicks off a death-spiral: as users and business customers leave, the platform's shareholders demand that they squeeze the remaining population harder to make up for the loss.

One reason this gambit worked so well is that it was a long con. Platform operators and their investors have been willing to throw away billions convincing end-users and business customers to lock themselves in until it was time for the pig-butchering to begin. They financed expensive forays into additional features and complementary products meant to increase user lock-in, raising the switching costs for users who were tempted to leave.

For example, Facebook's product manager for its "photos" product wrote to Mark Zuckerberg to lay out a strategy of enticing users into uploading valuable family photos to the platform in order to "make switching costs very high for users," who would have to throw away their precious memories as the price for leaving Facebook:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

The platforms' patience paid off. Their slow ratchets operated so subtly that we barely noticed the squeeze, and when we did, they relaxed the pressure until we were lulled back into complacency. Long cons require a lot of prefrontal cortex, the executive function to exercise patience and restraint.

Which brings me to Elon Musk, a man who seems to have been born without a prefrontal cortex, who has repeatedly and publicly demonstrated that he lacks any restraint, patience or planning. Elon Musk's prefrontal cortical deficit resulted in his being forced to buy Twitter, and his every action since has betrayed an even graver inability to stop tripping over his own dick.

Where Zuckerberg played enshittification as a long game, Musk is bent on speedrunning it. He doesn't slice his users up with a subtle scalpel, he hacks away at them with a hatchet.

Musk inaugurated his reign by nonconsensually flipping every user to an algorithmic feed which was crammed with ads and posts from "verified" users whose blue ticks verified solely that they had $8 ($11 for iOS users). Where Facebook deployed substantial effort to enticing users who tired of eyeball-cramming feed decay by temporarily improving their feeds, Musk's Twitter actually overrode users' choice to switch back to a chronological feed by repeatedly flipping them back to more monetizable, algorithmic feeds.

Then came the squeeze on publishers. Musk's Twitter rolled out a bewildering array of "verification" ticks, each priced higher than the last, and publishers who refused to pay found their subscribers taken hostage, with Twitter downranking or shadowbanning their content unless they paid.

(Musk also squeezed advertisers, keeping the same high prices but reducing the quality of the offer by killing programs that kept advertisers' content from being published along Holocaust denial and open calls for genocide.)

Today, Musk continues to squeeze advertisers, publishers and users, and his hamfisted enticements to make up for these depredations are spectacularly bad, and even illegal, like offering advertisers a new kind of ad that isn't associated with any Twitter account, can't be blocked, and is not labeled as an ad:

https://www.wired.com/story/xs-sneaky-new-ads-might-be-illegal/

Of course, Musk has a compulsive bullshitter's contempt for the press, so he has far fewer enticements for them to stay. Quite the reverse: first, Musk removed headlines from link previews, rendering posts by publishers that went to their own sites into stock-art enigmas that generated no traffic:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/oct/05/x-twitter-strips-headlines-new-links-why-elon-musk

Then he jumped straight to the end-stage of enshittification by announcing that he would shadowban any newsmedia posts with links to sites other than Twitter, "because there is less time spent if people click away." Publishers were advised to "post content in long form on this platform":

https://mamot.fr/@pluralistic/111183068362793821

Where a canny enshittifier would have gestured at a gaslighting explanation ("we're shadowbanning posts with links because they might be malicious"), Musk busts out the motto of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal, pray I don't alter it any further."

All this has the effect of highlighting just how little residual value there is on the platform for publishers, and tempts them to bolt for the exits. Six months ago, NPR lost all patience with Musk's shenanigans, and quit the service. Half a year later, they've revealed how low the switching cost for a major news outlet that leaves Twitter really are: NPR's traffic, post-Twitter, has declined by less than a single percentage point:

https://niemanreports.org/articles/npr-twitter-musk/

NPR's Twitter accounts had 8.7 million followers, but even six months ago, Musk's enshittification speedrun had drawn down NPR's ability to reach those users to a negligible level. The 8.7 million number was an illusion, a shell game Musk played on publishers like NPR in a bid to get them to buy a five-figure iridium checkmark or even a six-figure titanium one.

On Twitter, the true number of followers you have is effectively zero – not because Twitter users haven't explicitly instructed the service to show them your posts, but because every post in their feeds that they want to see is a post that no one can be charged to show them.

I've experienced this myself. Three and a half years ago, I left Boing Boing and started pluralistic.net, my cross-platform, open access, surveillance-free, daily newsletter and blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/drei-drei-drei/#now-we-are-three

Boing Boing had the good fortune to have attracted a sizable audience before the advent of siloed platforms, and a large portion of that audience came to the site directly, rather than following us on social media. I knew that, starting a new platform from scratch, I wouldn't have that luxury. My audience would come from social media, and it would be up to me to convert readers into people who followed me on platforms I controlled – where neither they nor I could be held to ransom.

I embraced a strategy called POSSE: Post Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere. With POSSE, the permalink and native habitat for your material is a site you control (in my case, a WordPress blog with all the telemetry, logging and surveillance disabled). Then you repost that content to other platforms – mostly social media – with links back to your own site:

https://indieweb.org/POSSE

There are a lot of automated tools to help you with this, but the platforms have gone to great lengths to break or neuter them. Musk's attack on Twitter's legendarily flexible and powerful API killed every automation tool that might help with this. I was lucky enough to have a reader – Loren Kohnfelder – who coded me some python scripts that automate much of the process, but POSSE remains a very labor-intensive and error-prone methodology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

And of all the feeds I produce – email, RSS, Discourse, Medium, Tumblr, Mastodon – none is as labor-intensive as Twitter's. It is an unforgiving medium to begin with, and Musk's drawdown of engineering support has made it wildly unreliable. Many's the time I've set up 20+ posts in a thread, only to have the browser tab reload itself and wipe out all my work.

But I stuck with Twitter, because I have a half-million followers, and to the extent that I reach them there, I can hope that they will follow the permalinks to Pluralistic proper and switch over to RSS, or email, or a daily visit to the blog.

But with each day, the case for using Twitter grows weaker. I get ten times as many replies and reposts on Mastodon, though my Mastodon follower count is a tenth the size of my (increasingly hypothetical) Twitter audience.

All this raises the question of what can or should be done about Twitter. One possible regulatory response would be to impose an "End-To-End" rule on the service, requiring that Twitter deliver posts from willing senders to willing receivers without interfering in them. End-To-end is the bedrock of the internet (one of its incarnations is Net Neutrality) and it's a proven counterenshittificatory force:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Despite what you may have heard, "freedom of reach" is freedom of speech: when a platform interposes itself between willing speakers and their willing audiences, it arrogates to itself the power to control what we're allowed to say and who is allowed to hear us:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

We have a wide variety of tools to make a rule like this stick. For one thing, Musk's Twitter has violated innumerable laws and consent decrees in the US, Canada and the EU, which creates a space for regulators to impose "conduct remedies" on the company.

But there's also existing regulatory authorities, like the FTC's Section Five powers, which enable the agency to act against companies that engage in "unfair and deceptive" acts. When Twitter asks you who you want to hear from, then refuses to deliver their posts to you unless they pay a bribe, that's both "unfair and deceptive":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But that's only a stopgap. The problem with Twitter isn't that this important service is run by the wrong mercurial, mediocre billionaire: it's that hundreds of millions of people are at the mercy of any foolish corporate leader. While there's a short-term case for improving the platforms, our long-term strategy should be evacuating them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

To make that a reality, we could also impose a "Right To Exit" on the platforms. This would be an interoperability rule that would require Twitter to adopt Mastodon's approach to server-hopping: click a link to export the list of everyone who follows you on one server, click another link to upload that file to another server, and all your followers and followees are relocated to your new digs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

A Twitter with the Right To Exit would exert a powerful discipline even on the stunted self-regulatory centers of Elon Musk's brain. If he banned a reporter for publishing truthful coverage that cast him in a bad light, that reporter would have the legal right to move to another platform, and continue to reach the people who follow them on Twitter. Publishers aghast at having the headlines removed from their Twitter posts could go somewhere less slipshod and still reach the people who want to hear from them on Twitter.

And both Right To Exit and End-To-End satisfy the two prime tests for sound internet regulation: first, they are easy to administer. If you want to know whether Musk is permitting harassment on his platform, you have to agree on a definition of harassment, determine whether a given act meets that definition, and then investigate whether Twitter took reasonable steps to prevent it.

By contrast, administering End-To-End merely requires that you post something and see if your followers receive it. Administering Right To Exit is as simple as saying, "OK, Twitter, I know you say you gave Cory his follower and followee file, but he says he never got it. Just send him another copy, and this time, CC the regulator so we can verify that it arrived."

Beyond administration, there's the cost of compliance. Requiring Twitter to police its users' conduct also requires it to hire an army of moderators – something that Elon Musk might be able to afford, but community-supported, small federated servers couldn't. A tech regulation can easily become a barrier to entry, blocking better competitors who might replace the company whose conduct spurred the regulation in the first place.

End-to-End does not present this kind of barrier. The default state for a social media platform is to deliver posts from accounts to their followers. Interfering with End-To-End costs more than delivering the messages users want to have. Likewise, a Right To Exit is a solved problem, built into the open Mastodon protocol, itself built atop the open ActivityPub standard.

It's not just Twitter. Every platform is consuming itself in an orgy of enshittification. This is the Great Enshittening, a moment of universal, end-stage platform decay. As the platforms burn, calls to address the fires grow louder and harder for policymakers to resist. But not all solutions to platform decay are created equal. Some solutions will perversely enshrine the dominance of platforms, help make them both too big to fail and too big to jail.

Musk has flagrantly violated so many rules, laws and consent decrees that he has accidentally turned Twitter into the perfect starting point for a program of platform reform and platform evacuation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/14/freedom-of-reach/#ex

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: JD Lasica (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elon_Musk_%283018710552%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #twitter #posse #elon musk #x #social media #graceful failure modes #end-to-end principle #administratable remedies #good regulation #ads #privacy #benevolent dictatorships #freedom of reach #journalism #enshittification #switching costs

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 3 months

Text

Written in the Stars

Dieter Bravo X OFC ||| Completed Oneshot

Series Summary: Dieter and Natalia receive an unexpected phone call that results in an emotional journey and an expansion of their little family.

Word Count: 16.6K

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health and emotional trauma. Brief mentions of suicide/death, child neglect/mistreatment, and infertility. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. Daddy Dieter comes with his own warnings. This fic is meant to raise foster care and mental health awareness.

✨Note: This can be read as a standalone fic. However, it is an extra for Destiny & Deliverance, which takes a deeper dive into events that are mentioned in the Epilogue.

EXTRAS ||| TEASERS ||| VIBES ||| MAIN MASTERLIST

Chapter Quote: “I’ve always wanted a miniature version of myself.” 

It was 9:37 AM on a Monday morning. I had just sat down in the conference room with some of our foundation's biggest donors to discuss plans for a non-profit community and resource center geared toward providing counseling and mental health treatment for low-income families. My hope was to secure additional funding for the project. I was admittedly nervous because these donations would be the deciding factor on if this pursuit was even possible at the present time. We had just made it past the pleasantries when Dieter stuck his head through the door. He looked around wild-eyed as he took in the room before finally focusing on my surprised face that was staring back at him. He cleared his throat, before pushing the door open further and stepping inside, “Talia, I’m s-sorry to interrupt, but can I borrow you for a minute?” 

I spoke through a tight smile, “Dieter, I’m a little busy right now…” 

He was almost vibrating from anxiety as the look on his face shifted to something resembling…panic, “I know, I’m really sorry…b-but we have a minor emergency that needs attention…like now.” 

My brows furrowed as I took in his expression, “Okaaay…” I replied with confusion etched on my face as I turned toward our guests, “Please excuse us for a minute.” I gave them a nervous smile, moving to follow Dieter out into the hallway. As soon as the conference room door closed behind us, I puffed air out of my cheeks, then asked him what was going on. He rubbed both hands over his face before meeting my eyes.

“I don’t even know…where to start…with this.” He let out a shaky breath before continuing. 

“Amber, from CDSS (California Department of Social Services), just called. You know Luca…that I mentor in the after-school program?”

I nodded, completely unsure of where this was going. 

“His mom, she uhhh…” His brows drew down together and his face tightened, like he was fighting back emotion, “Her neighbor found her early this morning…she’s…gone. They need a temporary emergency foster for Luca.”

I sucked in a stuttered breath. That certainly was not the news I was expecting. I shook my head in shock, “What does that mean? What are you saying?”

Dieter rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked up at me through his lashes, “I know we never made a decision on potentially becoming foster parents, or even adopting…”

Realization crossed my face, Dieter wanted us to be the emergency foster, “Dieter…this is a big fucking deal…where are we gonna put a kid? We don’t have any kid…stuff.”

“I-I know it is…I mean, I’m sure he has his own stuff…”

My face softened, realizing now that he really wanted this, “Dieter, this isn't a dog. It’s a whole fucking human…and not even a baby. He’s gonna have feelings, emotions, and…trauma. That’s a lot to take on.” 

He sighed, “I-I know…I don’t think there’s anyone more equipped to handle trauma than us though…and I’m the only person he knows. If we don’t take him, he’s gonna go to the foster facility or be placed with a random family. I can’t let that happen...he’ll be terrified.” 

I fisted my fingers through the top of my hair as I stared at him. “It’s temporary?” I asked. Dieter nodded. “Are you gonna be able to handle that? Will you be able to handle giving him up?”

He nodded again, “As long as I go into it knowing that’s the plan, then yes…I c-can handle it.” 

I wasn’t completely convinced with that answer. This was one of the reasons we hadn’t gone forward with being foster parents. Dieter had been doing so well the last few years, but this was certainly something that could trigger a manic episode for him. He had a hard time with loss, but he did have an equally strong desire to help others in need.   

“And what if they can’t find another place for him to go? What if it’s not temporary?”

He let out a controlled breath, “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

I had to look away from him for a moment, my eyes roamed over the light gray colored walls of the hallway we stood in. Both of our emotions were running high, and I wasn’t really sure how to handle this being dumped on us out of the blue, especially right now.  

I rubbed at the tension forming at the bridge of my nose, “When do they need to know something?”

Dieter grimaced, “Like, now.”

“Fuck. Why did this have to happen now…during this meeting…”

I reached to rub at my shoulder as my chest tightened, my heart now beating double time. I hadn’t had a panic attack in a very long time, but I suddenly felt like I was about to. Dieter immediately noticed and grabbed my hand, cradling it between both of his large ones and brought it to his lips. I could already feel my heart rate slowing at his touch. After all this time, he was still my anchor.

“I mean, we don’t even have time to discuss it? Think it through?” I asked.

He stared at me with his large brown eyes as he shook his head, “Unfortunately, no. They have to figure out what to do with him if we can’t take him.” 

I was reluctant as my mind raced through all the possible outcomes of this situation - trying to determine if this was something we could handle if it ended badly. We had been through so much already in our attempts to expand our family, I didn’t know how much more we could take if things took an unexpected turn.

I had concerns about taking in a child that wasn’t our own. It was the reason we had stalled on starting the adoption process. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to form any type of meaningful bond having not given birth to them myself and I was afraid of being a bad parent because of that. Dieter and I had discussed all of these things, and he knew why I was hesitant. Dr. Rosenberg, our psychiatrist, had assured me that all of these feelings were normal when considering adopting, so that had relieved some of my anxiety. However, I was now worried the same thing would happen if we became foster parents. The fear was amplified knowing that the situation was temporary, making it even harder on us emotionally. I knew I would inevitably put-up walls to protect myself. 

I managed to push my feelings aside and to think of Dieter. I wanted to try for him because I knew that he had bonded with Luca since becoming part of his life. Dieter was right, Luca would be terrified being with strangers and I wasn’t sure I could live with that either. Especially knowing that we could keep it from happening. I had only met Luca briefly, in passing, but I had heard everything about him from Dieter. He sounded like a sweet kid. 

Thinking further, I realized this may only be for a few days. Surely Luca had other family that would be willing to take him in, right? We could handle a few days. However, if it stretched on beyond that, we might have a problem. Dieter interrupted my racing thoughts by placing his hands on my shoulders and dipping his head to meet my gaze, “Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

I sighed, and peered up at him through my lashes, “You know what’s going on in my mind…we’ve already talked about it all…and…I worry about you, obviously.” 

He gave me a small smile, “Baby, I promise, I’ll be fine. I know I can do this.”

My eyes roamed over his face as I read his expression, there was so much conviction behind his words this time that it erased any concerns I had for him. I nodded slowly, “Ok, make the call.”

His soulful eyes lit up with a wide smile that broke across his face, “Really? You’re sure?” 

I inhaled deeply and nodded, now in shock over what we had just agreed to do. Dieter pulled me in for a tight hug, mumbling into the top of my hair that this was a good thing. When I stepped away, I suddenly remembered that I had a room full of very important people waiting for me. 

I huffed out a breath, “Fuck…what about this meeting?” 

Dieter’s eyes widened, “Umm, well…I think they just needed to know if we could take him right away. Go finish the meeting and we can head over to get him after. How long do you think it’ll be? Like an hour?”

I nodded, “Yeah, unless they laugh me out of there before that.” 

His brow furrowed before he started rubbing the upper part of my arms, “Hey, relax. You’ve got this. I can come in and charm them if you need me to?” He gave me his goofy lop-sided grin. 

I snorted out a laugh. He always knew the right thing to say to lift my mood. 

“Hopefully, that won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep that in mind if I need reinforcements.” 

Dieter chuckled, leaning down to give me a quick kiss before I turned to go back into the conference room. Everyone immediately snapped to attention as I walked in, a few inquiring if everything was ok. The only response I could muster was, “I hope so,” followed by a nervous laugh.

It wasn’t my best presentation. I was distracted by all the thoughts swirling in my head, which was making it hard for me to focus. I managed to make it through everything though. Everyone seemed excited about the project and pledged more funding than we were asking for, which was a huge relief. At least that was one less thing I could stop worrying about. After everyone said their goodbyes, they all filed out the door to walk toward the lobby. I followed behind them, until I reached Dieter’s office door to find him looking down at his phone as he paced around the room. 

Once Dieter realized I was standing in the doorway, his head snapped up. He looked at me with wide eyes, “Well?”

I smiled, “We’re good. More than good actually.”

He hissed out a low “Yeeesss” as he punched the air with a fisted hand. He moved toward me, grabbing my wrist to pull me towards him for a hug, “I told you it would go ok.” 

When he pulled away, we looked at each other nervously, knowing what our next task was.

“What’s the plan?” I asked. 

Dieter gave me a tight smile, “Well, we go down to the CDSS offices and pick him up. Amber said he has some clothes with him and not much else. I guess we’ll have some paperwork to fill out when we get there too.”  

I let out a slow breath, “I still can’t believe we’re doing this…”

He gave me a serious look, “This is a good thing and you’re gonna be great. Stop getting in your head about it. He’s gonna love you. I mean, he likes me for fuck’s sake. You’ll be fine.” 

I snorted, shaking my head at him as I walked next door to my office to grab my things. We left without telling anyone what was going on. It was too much to explain right now. We were silent as Dieter drove to our destination. He held my hand tightly the whole way, knowing that my mind was racing, my thoughts making me more anxious as we got closer. 

At some point in our journey to expand our family, Dieter had become the source of strength in our relationship, and I had become the one who struggled emotionally. I think a lot of it had to do with the hormone injections I had been taking but knowing that didn’t make it any easier. After a year of no success, I couldn’t do it anymore. The disappointment that came with each negative pregnancy test had become overwhelming and was slowly breaking me down. It had really left a scar on my heart.

Dieter remained positive throughout the entire ordeal and took such good care of me. He was truly supportive, constantly checking in with me and making me talk through my emotions. We knew this was a possibility before choosing this path and worked to prepare ourselves for it, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing when things didn’t go how we had hoped. The residuals from that experience still hung over us when it came to the topic of expanding our family. I had a nagging fear that things were never going to go our way and I was having a hard time overcoming it. Even now, my brain was making a list of every possible negative outcome and how that could affect us individually and as a couple.  Deep down I knew that wasn’t the way to go into this, but I couldn’t help it. 

Before I knew it, we were pulling into the CDSS parking lot. I was in a daze as I exited the vehicle, quickly moving to Dieter’s side and lacing our fingers back together. When we entered the building, Dieter asked for Amber, then we were led to the room where she was sitting with Luca. She saw us approaching through the glass windows and came out into the hallway to meet us. 

She gave us a sad smile as she greeted us. Dieter wasted no time getting to business. “How’s he doing?” he asked. 

Amber sighed, “It’s hard to tell. I’m not sure if he fully understands what’s going on. He’s sad, but calm. He perked up some when I told him you were coming to pick him up. He had been asking for Dieter since he got here. That’s why I thought to call you guys first.” 

Dieter turned to look at the small boy who had a vacant look in his eyes and a frown on his lips. “Can I go to him?” he asked.

Dieter’s gaze shifted to Amber, his eyes now pleading. She nodded, stepping aside so he could enter the room. Dieter inhaled deeply, squeezing my hand a little tighter before releasing it. I watched as he approached, kneeling down to Luca’s level as he talked to him in hushed tones. I could see Luca’s bottom lip trembling and his dark eyes rounding before he leaned in and buried his face into Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter rubbed at the back of the boy’s shaggy dark brown locks, hugging him tightly. I couldn’t see Dieter’s face, but I could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he was fighting back his own emotions. 

Seeing Luca now took me back to the family photos littered throughout our home in Sonoma. He reminded me so much of a younger version of Dieter that it was almost scary. It also tugged at my heartstrings in a way that I didn’t expect. They had more in common than just looks, both having lost their mothers at a very young age. I didn’t know the details yet, but I assumed Luca experienced it in a traumatic way based on Dieter’s reaction. Seeing Dieter with the boy and how they interacted also had me feeling some kind of way. It was clear Luca trusted him and felt comfortable in his presence. It was enough to stifle the negative thoughts that had plagued my mind during the drive over. 

“Did Dieter tell you what happened?” Amber asked. 

I shook my head, still watching through the glass as I answered, “No, we didn’t get into the details. I was doing good just to wrap my head around this even happening.” 

She nodded, “I can understand that. I know it came out of nowhere.” She sighed before continuing, “The neighbor found her this morning. It’s looking like an intentional overdose. She had been like that for a couple days…at least. She did it with Luca there.”

My head turned, shocked eyes finally meeting Amber’s. “He was with her like that for days?”

She nodded, “As far as we know. He won’t really talk to us, so it’s a lot of speculation at this point.” 

I felt sick. It was worse than I thought. I couldn’t imagine what the kid was feeling, and I didn’t even know where to start in dealing with it, but Dieter did. He had been in a similar situation once. I felt a streak of panic go through me, worried that this would bring up emotions for Dieter that he might have a hard time with. I had to remind myself that he had successfully processed through that trauma and would hopefully be able to use it in a positive way now. 

Amber continued, “Based on the environment, I would say it wasn’t a good situation for the kid. The place was a mess, there was no food in the house, and he didn’t have a lot of belongings. It’s sad all around.”

I had to find something to focus on before I got emotional, “He didn’t have a lot of belongings? What does he have?”

Amber shrugged, “Not a whole lot. Some ill-fitting clothes, that’s about it. Oh, and a stuffed raccoon. He said “Mr. Dieter” got it for him at the zoo and wanted to bring it…but nothing else.” 

My eyes began to sting. Something about that bit of information nearly knocked me over the edge. I sucked in a sharp breath, needing to change the subject. “Do you know of any family yet?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No, nothing yet. It doesn’t look like she kept in touch with anyone, so it’s gonna take some work to figure it out. We’ll look into the dad’s side as well, obviously…it doesn’t look like she was in touch with any of them either. 

I felt my stomach flutter at the idea that there appeared to be no one to take him. Was that some spark of hope? I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but I did have a small urge to give this kid a better life. 

Amber drew me from my thoughts, “So, we’re gonna have you guys take him on as a non-relative extended family foster. You have an established relationship with him that can be proven, and it’s documented, so I don’t think it will be an issue. I can prove it’s the best plan of action for him currently while we go through our processes. 

I nodded, agreeing that it seemed like the way to go. She left me to go gather the paperwork for us to fill out. I turned back to the window, now watching Dieter and Luca talking quietly to each other. Luca was hugging his stuffed raccoon as Dieter brushed the boy's wavy hair out of his dark eyes. Luca had a small smile on his face from whatever Dieter had said to him. The moment seemed so private. I almost felt like I was intruding. 

After a few minutes, Dieter’s head turned, his eyes searching for me. When our gazes met, he motioned for me to join them. I was hesitant, not wanting to spoil their moment. I was also unsure of how to act toward this kid. I didn’t know him like Dieter did, and honestly, I felt like an outsider in this situation. I needed to suck it up, there was no avoiding it. 

I took a calming breath before entering the room, moving to sit next to Dieter. Dieter put his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side, “Luca, do you remember meeting Talia? She’s my wife…the one that keeps me in line.” 

Luca let out a quiet laugh, smiling at me as he nodded. “I remember,” he finally said.  

Dieter glanced over at me, “Luca and I were just talking about getting some lunch.”

A sad smile formed on my lips, there was no telling when the last time was that this kid had a decent meal. “Yeah, we can do that. Luca, is there anywhere you like to eat? We can go wherever you want.”

Luca shrugged, “I’m not really sure.”

It hit me then, this kid probably hadn’t eaten out a lot. I felt like an idiot for asking. 

It was Dieter who spoke next, “How about McDonalds? You liked it that one time we went, right?”

The boy's chocolate eyes lit up, much like Dieter’s often did when he was excited about something. Luca nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion. 

Amber entered the room with a file full of paperwork. I got to work on it while Dieter kept Luca distracted. There was so much information to fill out and releases to sign for background checks and home visits. It was a little overwhelming. Dieter could sense how I was feeling and made the effort to help calm me. As soon as I felt his hand resting on the small of my back, moving in small circles, I was able to relax and focus. He always knew what I needed and when. 

We were at CDSS for at least two hours, if not longer. I felt absolutely exhausted by the time we left, and I’m pretty sure Dieter and Luca were too. I was on information overload and starting to stress about everything that needed to be done. I was already making a mental list about things Luca would need for school and everyday use. I had never shopped for a boy his age, so it was putting me in a bit of a tizzy. 

As soon as we were in the car, Dieter reached for my hand, “Baby, relax. Everything on that running list in your head doesn’t have to be done today…and I can help you with some of it you know.” 

My lips tugged upward. He knew me too well. “I know…but you know I can’t help myself.” 

As Dieter drove toward the fast food restaurant, I noticed his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror every so often, I assumed to keep an eye on Luca. I too turned to glance back at the boy a few times. Every time I did so, he was staring out the window with his chin propped on his hand. He didn’t look particularly distressed or upset. I wasn’t sure if he had fully grasped what was happening yet. He seemed way too at ease, or maybe that was just because he was with Dieter?   

Once we got into the drive-thru line, Dieter turned to ask Luca what he wanted. He shrugged as his eyebrows rose and disappeared behind his shaggy hair. 

Dieter glanced at me with an arched eyebrow and pursed lips. My brows furrowed. I could already tell this was going to take some adjustments. 

“Chicken nuggets or a burger?” Dieter finally asked. 

“Nuggets.” Luca replied. 

“Chocolate or Vanilla shake?” Dieter followed up. 

“What’s better?” Luca asked. 

“Chocolate…Duh.” Dieter replied.

Luca giggled, “Chocolate then.” 

I felt like they had had many conversations like this. I loved that Dieter knew how to communicate with Luca in a way that got answers and didn’t cause frustration. I had a feeling a lot of adults probably couldn’t handle that. Here I was taking mental notes for future reference. 

When we got to the drive-thru window, the worker immediately recognized Dieter. It caused a bit of a ruckus as several other workers came over and asked to take a selfie with him. Luca seemed completely unfazed by it. I wondered if this had happened often while he was out doing things with Dieter. 

Once we finally got our food and were on our way home, I looked over at Dieter, “I assume you haven’t told Elaine or Will yet?”

He sucked air through his teeth, “Nope.” 

“Do you think paparazzi will be an issue?”

Dieter shrugged, “I dunno. I think when kids are around, they tend to back off some. I hope anyway...” 

I took a deep breath and dropped my head backward onto the seat. I had a feeling this was going to be more complicated in ways that we couldn’t even fathom yet. 

After we got home, we all sat down at the dining room table and ate our incredibly unhealthy meal. Luca seemed in good spirits, but he mostly sat in silence as he took in his surroundings and devoured his food. He would still smile when Dieter said something funny to him and responded to questions, but that was about it. Afterward, Dieter got Luca’s two small bags out of the car, then we showed him to his room and adjoining bathroom. He seemed in awe over the fact that he would have his own bathroom and a TV in the bedroom. It made me sad that something so common and seemingly not that big of a deal to us, was for him. 

While Dieter worked to get Luca settled in, I raided our toiletry stash to get everything he might need for the time being. I felt so unprepared for this situation, and I hated that feeling. I needed to get everything sorted out as soon as possible or I wasn’t going to be able to relax over it. 

When I returned to Luca’s room, Dieter was getting him tucked into bed because he said he was sleepy and wanted to take a nap. I watched as Dieter showed him how to work the TV and asked what kind of shows he liked to watch. Luca shrugged, commenting that he didn’t have many channels, so he didn’t watch much TV. It was just another reminder of the less than ideal situation he had been in. 

I left them alone after that, allowing Luca time to decompress and fall asleep. To help settle my mind, I took a seat on a stool at the kitchen island and started making lists. Lists of things we needed to do, essentials that Luca would need, school supplies, it almost seemed never ending. In the middle of all that I was googling things because I didn’t know anything about what a boy his age would like. I was also creating carts and adding items for delivery. It was overwhelming to see it all in writing, but it did make me feel better. 

About a half hour later, I could hear Dieter on a call in the living room. It sounded like he was talking to Elaine, his publicist, and Will, his manager - filling them in on the events of the day. After he ended the call, he appeared behind me in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. 

“Will is gonna clear my schedule for the next couple of weeks so I can be around for Luca.” he said into the side of my neck. 

“He may not be here that long,” I reminded him. 

He shrugged, “Then you’ll just have to put up with me being around.”

I chuckled, “Yes, because that’s just so terrible.” I said sarcastically. 

Dieter reached to grab the notepad sitting on the counter in front of me, looking it over before dropping it back in its place. 

“You don’t have to do all of this today, ya know. Let me help you.” 

I sighed, “Oh, don’t worry. You will be. He’s probably gonna need some more clothes…that might have to be your area. I’ve already got some carts going online for the rest of it.”

Dieter moved to my side so he could look at me directly, one arm still around my back, “Hey, you’re doing great. The kid likes you, so you can relax.”

I gave him a weak smile, “How do you know?”

Dieter smirked, “He said you’re nice…and have pretty hair.” 

I snorted, “He didn’t say that.” 

Dieter nodded, “I swear he did…” He was quiet for a beat, his eyes roaming my face. “How are you feeling about things?”

I inhaled deeply and held it for a moment, “I don’t know…definitely overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done.”

His eyes narrowed, “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

He’s too damn intuitive, I was totally avoiding the real conversation. “I’m not sure, honestly.”

“Baby, you need to be open with me. I know what you’re doing…don’t shut yourself off.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Ok, fine… I feel a little disconnected from it…like an outsider. It’s awkward because you already have a bond with him and I’m not really sure how to be part of that. I know he isn’t as comfortable around me either. I can sense it.”

Dieter pulled me into a hug, “He’s a shy kid on the best day. After you spend a little time with him, he’ll open up. You’ve gotta open up some too though.”

I nodded. I knew it was true, but also knowing that this was meant to be temporary was making it hard for me to do that. After seeing Luca and what his life must have been like made me realize I could actually get attached to this kid. Even though I had been worried about being able to bond with a child that wasn’t my own, I could feel my maternal instincts kicking in. 

Luca slept most of the day, which left us wondering what exactly he had been through that left him so tired. Dieter and I were in the midst of cooking dinner, trying to decide if we should wake him when he came shuffling down the hallway. 

“Hey hombrecito (little man), you ready to eat some dinner?” Dieter asked.

Luca nodded as he rubbed at his eyes. 

“Let’s go wash up while Talia gets everything ready, ok?”

Dieter put his hand on Luca’s shoulder and led him toward the bathroom to wash his hands. By the time they got back dinner was ready. Dieter helped Luca make a small plate while he made his own. Then we all sat down to eat. I noticed Luca didn’t get much food and finished eating quickly. 

“Luca, do you want any more? You didn’t eat much,” I said. 

He looked at me with wide eyes, “Is that allowed?” 

I could feel my heart shattering in my chest as Dieter and I shared a knowing look. It took everything in me to keep the tears at bay as I turned my attention back to the boy. 

“It’s absolutely allowed. You can have as much as you want.” 

His chocolate eyes lit up before murmuring out a quiet “thank you” as he stood from his seat to go refill his plate. Dieter reached over and gave my hand a squeeze before turning his attention to Luca, realizing the boy was too short to reach everything. He moved to help him. I took a moment to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I could already tell this whole experience was going to have a huge impact on me, emotionally.    

After dinner, we took the time to show Luca around the rest of the house and officially introduce him to Moony, our kangaroo eared dog, and our four foster pups. Dieter had recently converted one of the spare rooms downstairs into a “dog room” for the pups to hang out in while we were out of the house. It was the most ostentatious dog space I had ever seen. He had gone so far as to install a TV (on their level) and get a Dog TV subscription for them. They each had their own little dog houses and beds. He had even found a place to buy dog furniture. He finished it all off with wireless cameras that allowed him to talk to the dogs when he wasn’t in the room. It was beyond extra, but typical Dieter. 

Luca was in awe of the space and thought the mini dog couches were the funniest thing. He and Dieter went to sit on the floor in the middle of the room to get acquainted with everyone. The foster dogs were just happy to see people. Moony held back, slinking around the room sniffing in Luca’s direction. He was more cautious of the new person in his house, but he eventually approached the boy for pets. Within minutes, he was in Luca’s lap being cuddled, both of them smiling as they nuzzled against each other. I could already tell they were going to be fast friends. 

In the days that followed, Luca continued to remain quiet and reserved. However, I could tell he was beginning to relax as he got used to his surroundings and new routine. He was at his happiest when spending time with Dieter. Dieter had been spending all of his free time with the boy - painting, playing video games, playing with Moony. Anything he could think of doing that might distract Luca from the reality of his situation. I could often hear them laughing amongst themselves. It warmed my heart to see Dieter take on this new role and how he thrived in it. 

Dieter was so good with Luca, and I knew a lot of it had to do with their commonalities. Dieter had lost his mother under equally devastating circumstances, which helped him relate to Luca in a way that I would never be able to. It further solidified the bond they had already built before this life changing incident happened to Luca. It did make me worry about how things would go if Luca was unable to stay with us. I worried if Dieter could handle it. 

The conditions left me torn in how I wanted to handle things as well. I was still feeling like an outsider in this situation and unsure of how to navigate the changing dynamics in our household. I wanted to engage and be part of the bond they were building, but I also didn’t want to get too close in the event the situation was indeed temporary, as we were told it would be. I knew I would need to be strong for Dieter if Luca wasn’t able to stay with us. He said he could handle it but seeing them together didn’t give me a lot of confidence in his belief. 

As we got into the second week of having Luca with us, I noticed he seemed to be getting more curious about me. During the first instance, we were all sitting around the living room watching TV as I folded laundry. Luca was on the floor, playing with Moony. Once Moony ran out of energy and laid down for a nap, I realized Luca was watching me fold. After several minutes, he came closer, sitting in front of me. 

“Can I help?” he asked timidly. 

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. He was too adorable. I glanced toward Dieter, who was watching us with a smirk on his face. 

“Better watch it hombrecito (little man), she’s super picky about the folding.” 

Luca’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe Dieter said such a thing. 

I snorted, “Just because I don’t wad them up and stuff them in a random drawer doesn’t mean I’m picky.” I gave Luca a conspiratorial look, “He’s just messy. Don’t listen to him.” 

Luca laughed, “Yeah, he kinda is.” 

Dieter scoffed dramatically and I cackled. Luca’s comment had taken me off guard. 

“I see how it is, you two are ganging up on me now. I don’t like this,” Dieter said.

Luca and I laughed, eventually settling down as I continued folding. Luca watched me fold a couple more items, then reached into the basket to grab a piece of clothing and got to work. He held it up to ask me if it was correct. He had folded it perfectly on the first try. Dieter and I both praised him, noting that he already folds better than Dieter, which led to more giggles from the boy as he worked on the next item. We worked in silence after that, listening to whatever TV show Dieter was watching. I noticed Dieter wasn’t paying much attention to the show though. Instead, he was watching Luca and I with a small smile on his lips. Once all of the laundry was folded, Luca offered to put his own clothes away himself. When he returned, he looked smug, seemingly proud of himself as he sat down next to Dieter on the couch. Dieter pulled the boy into his side and mussed his hair, thanking him for helping me. 

In the days that followed, Luca began checking in with me to see if he could help with anything. I started giving him small tasks like sweeping, vacuuming, helping carry the dishes to the kitchen, or pulling ingredients for meals. It was his way of trying to connect with me, and I accepted it.

Toward the end of the second week, Dieter and I were lying in bed, barely awake after having spent the day clothes shopping with Luca. We were both absolutely spent from trying to get things sorted for Luca and caring for him throughout the week on top of dealing with home checks, interviews with CDSS, and getting our background checks completed. We had been so engrossed with taking care of the boy that we really hadn’t made any time for each other. Our only time together was at night, but we had been so tired since Luca came into our care that we hadn’t even taken advantage of it. On this night, we managed to get in some cuddle time before either of us fell asleep. After crawling into bed behind me and pulling me flush against his body, Dieter took the opportunity to check in with me to see how I was feeling about things. 

“It seems like Luca is warming up to you a bit…”

I smiled, “Yeah, I think so too. His personality is starting to shine through a little more. I can tell he’s been spending too much time with you.” 

Dieter chuckled, “I’ve always wanted a miniature version of myself.” 

I snorted and nudged my shoulder backward against his, “You’re so ridiculous.”  

He laughed, but then it trailed off into a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Serious question…how are you feeling about things now? Better I hope?” 

I sighed. I was still holding back some, and I knew it. “I’m still a little apprehensive about things. I’m trying not to get attached to this kid. This was never meant to be permanent, remember?” 

Dieter went quiet for a beat, “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean we can’t care for him like he’s ours…show him what a healthy family dynamic is like. He’s never had that, and I know there’s a possibility that he may never get it again if he leaves us. I want him to have at least one positive experience to look back on, even if it does turn out to be a short one.”

Dieter always had an interesting take on things like this. I knew it was rooted in his childhood experiences and everything he had gone through. I hadn’t thought about it like that and couldn’t disagree, “I hadn’t considered that view on things.” I finally admitted to him. 

I turned to face him, “You have such a good heart. I can’t disagree with that assessment and…I’ll try to do better by him.” 

Dieter leaned down and gently kissed me on the lips, before pulling back. “You have a good heart too, you just have to learn to open it up a little more.”

I chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.” 

His hand gently brushed my hair back, “Maybe you two should go do something fun on your own. I know he’s been wanting to go to the Aquarium.”

My eyes widened, “Dieter, I dunno about that. It helps to have you as a buffer.” 

He snickered, “You’ll be fine. The kid likes you and I’m certain you won’t be able to get him to shut up if he’s looking at animals. He gets so excited; he can’t help but to ask a million questions. You should take him on Saturday. I’ve got some work stuff I need to take care of.”

My brows furrowed, “Work stuff? What work stuff?” 

He was fighting a smile now, “I have some scripts I need to look over.”

I pursed my lips, “For some reason, I don’t believe you.” 

He smiled against my lips, kissing me between words, “It’s late. Time for bed bella durmiente (sleeping beauty).” 

I scoffed as he snuggled in next to me, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Change the subject. I’m on to you.” 

He laughed against my shoulder, “I’d like you to be, but I’m too fucking tired to be able to do anything about it.” 

I snorted, “Again, you’re ridiculous. Good night.” 

After giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, we wrapped up in each other and fell asleep quickly.

That Saturday, I took Luca to the Aquarium as Dieter suggested. There was a comfortable silence between us during the ride there, however his bright-eyed look told me he was excited. It didn’t take long once we were inside for him to start peppering me with questions as Dieter said he would. He was an inquisitive little thing that had a serious thirst for knowledge. He was enthusiastic but also very well behaved. He seemed mature for his age when compared to the other kids running amok around the facility. Realizing that made me appreciate him a little more. 

Luca took the time to sit and observe the animals, studying each of them carefully. Whereas, most of the other kids gave them a quick glance, then were ready to move on to the next thing. Something about his curiosity made my heart flutter. Was it pride? I realized it was something that he and I had in common. I made a mental note of that for future reference. 

It seemed like hardly any time had passed as we slowly moved between exhibits, chatting about the animals. As the morning went on, I could tell he was getting more comfortable with me. He had started to gently tug on my hand to get my attention or loop his arm around mine and lean into my side as he pointed things out. 

By the time we reached the halfway point where the little cafe was, it was well past lunch time. Luca reluctantly agreed to take a break so we could grab a bite to eat. As we waited in line, I asked him what he wanted. He gave me that same wide-eyed stare he gave Dieter at McDonalds the first day. I gave him a few options off the menu as I had watched Dieter do. We finally narrowed it down to loaded nachos and a chocolate chip cookie. 

Luca got quiet after we were seated to eat. He didn’t seem to have a problem with companionable silence. He was a lot like Dieter and me in that way. It never failed to astonish me how well this kid fit into our lives. It was like the ‘powers that be’ had taken a piece from each of us to make him and put him in our path. Luca drew me out of my thoughts with a question that stunned me. 

“Are you and Mr. Dieter gonna be my new parents?” he asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

I nearly choked on the chip I had just stuck in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting this type of conversation today. I took a quick drink of my soda, “Did Dieter tell you that?”

He shook his head, “No. I didn’t ask him because Mr. Dieter says you’re the boss.”

I chuckled, “Well, at least he knows his place.” I took a deep breath, my brows furrowing as I thought through a response. 

“Is that something you would want to happen? For us to be your parents.” 

He nodded enthusiastically as he chomped down on a nacho. 

I gave him a sad smile, “You understand what that would mean right? That you would stay with us, forever.”

He nodded again, “I like staying with you. You’re nice to me.” 

Of all the reasons he could have given, it was because we’re nice to him. My heart was breaking as I considered what those words meant. Was his mother not nice to him? I knew they were low income and struggled with basic needs, but this added a whole other layer to things. 

I could feel the tears beginning to pool in my eyes and I had to work to fight them back. 

I gave him another sad smile, “The decision isn’t up to us, bud…but I promise you…if it’s an option, we’ll do everything in our power to make it happen. If that’s what you truly want.” 

He was smiling now, “It is. I would like that.”

My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I couldn't believe he had just asked me that. He obviously felt comfortable enough around me now to bring it up, which made me feel a whole other set of emotions. I was drawn from my thoughts by my buzzing phone in my pocket. It was from Dieter.

Dieter: Hey! How’s it going?

I smiled to myself. It was sweet that he was checking in. I glanced up at Luca who was leaning back in his seat, with his hand on his belly like he had eaten too much. 

“Dieter’s asking how it’s going. You wanna send him a picture?”

Luca smiled and nodded before standing to walk over next to my seat. He leaned in against me and gave a toothy smile while I snapped a selfie of us. I showed him the picture and he gave a nod of approval as he moved back to his seat. With a smile, I sent it to Dieter. He started typing a response immediately.

Dieter: Wow. Looks like some progress. You guys having fun? 

Me: Yeah, we are. Just finishing up with a late lunch. You were right, he has a lot of questions.

Dieter: LOL! I’ll see you guys in a few hours then. I expect you still have a while. Let me know when you're heading this way and I’ll get dinner started. - te amo (love you)

Me: Sounds like a plan. - te amo

Luca and I went back to viewing the exhibits after that. He seemed to have a little more pep in his step during the second half of the day and he was still just as inquisitive about everything. After another hour and a half, we finally made it to the gift shop. 

“Go find yourself something to take home,” I said to him. His eyes widened at my words. He seemed very unsure of himself. 

“Like what?” he finally asked. 

“Whatever you wanna get.” He pursed his lips, still seeming unsure. “A toy maybe? I’m not sure what you like. You’re allowed to wander around and look if you want.”  

He shuffled down the nearest aisle, slowly scanning the shelves. He eventually ended up standing in front of a wall of books and began thumbing through them. He finally settled on an age-appropriate book on prehistoric fish. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he chose a book, but I was. He walked over and shyly handed it to me. 

“Is this one, ok?” he asked quietly.

I gave him a bright smile and nodded, “Of course! Do you like to read?” 

He shrugged, “I’m not that good yet, but I like books.”

I ruffled his hair, “Don’t worry, we’ll have you reading everything in no time. Dieter and I love to read too.”

He gave me a toothy grin as I leaned down to whisper to him conspiratorially, “Ya know, I don’t count books as a strike against your purchase limit. Go grab you something else.”

His eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing before he scurried off to find another item. I followed behind him, watching as he continued to take everything in and narrow down his choice. He finally settled on a stuffed otter. We had spent a lot of time watching them in their enclosure, so I wasn’t shocked. They seemed to be one of his favorites. We checked out after that, then made our way to the car. 

As I was sitting in traffic, I could see Luca in my rear view mirror, completely engrossed in his book with his otter hugged under one arm. His chubby little fingers were rubbing at its soft fuzzy fabric in between turning pages. Something about it was absolutely tugging at my heart. I wondered if he even had any books of his own before, or if perhaps he just borrowed them from school. 

“Luca, have you ever been to a bookstore?” I asked suddenly. 

His rounded chocolate eyes met mine in the mirror. His brows furrowed slightly, seeming confused by my question for a moment before answering, “No ma’am. I haven't.” 

A smile tugged at my lips, “Would you like to?” 

He nodded, fighting a smile, “That would be fun.” 

Minutes later, I turned into the local Barnes and Noble parking lot. I was suddenly feeling giddy to share this experience with him because I knew this would be a hobby we could bond over. 

When we entered the store, I grabbed a handheld basket. He gave me a questioning look, “Let’s fill this basket up, kid.” 

He snorted, following closely behind me until I found the correct aisle for him to browse. He seemed to have a thing about dinosaurs, gravitating toward those books first. After flipping through a couple, he eyed me cautiously as he slid one into the basket I was holding. I quirked an eyebrow at the one still in his hand, “You want that one too?” 

He chewed on his lip for a moment before slowly sliding that one into the basket. He looked like he was waiting for me to change my mind. Instead, I gave him a warm smile and encouraged him to keep looking. As we moved down the aisle, I pointed out some of my favorites like Narnia, Goosebumps, and Percy Jackson. He seemed a little intimidated by the chapter books at first, but after I promised that Dieter and I would read those with him it seemed to change his view on it a little and he happily added those to the basket as well. Luca and I got lost in the books together. Not realizing how much time had passed until I got another text from Dieter.

Dieter: You two doing ok? Figured you’d be on your way back by now. 

Me: Yes! Sorry. We stopped off at the bookstore. About to check out. 

Dieter: K. I’ll get dinner started. See you soon. 😘 (kiss emoji) 

I sighed, “Looks like we’re being summoned for dinner. I think this is probably a good start. You ready to head home?” 

Luca gave me a wide smile and nodded. We made our way to the checkout counter, where I pointed out the bookmarks and told him to grab a couple for his chapter books. He quickly settled on two 3D hologram bookmarks, one with raccoons and the other with a shark. He slid them onto the counter as the cashier began to ring up our purchases. He stood beside me quietly, looking at all the little trinkets and magazines lining the bottom of the counter. 

I gave him a quick smile before glancing up at the cashier, who was watching us intently with a smile on her face. 

“Your son is sweet. He seems to really love books.”’

I shook my head slightly, unsure of how to respond to her comment, but also feeling a little choked up at the thought. My eyes darted to Luca who didn’t seem to have noticed the comment. I settled for a smile and nod, “Yeah, he really does.” 

We left the bookstore with several bags full. Both of us were laughing at the ridiculousness of it as we loaded them into the car. He was giggling as he got settled into his seat. It was the same giggle I often heard when he and Dieter were spending time together. It caused a bloom of feelings that I couldn’t describe. Feelings that made me warm and happy. Feelings that I didn’t want to let go. 

A short time later, we pulled into the garage. Luca helped me unload our spoils from the day and lug them into the house. Dieter was standing in front of the stove with a confused look on his face as he watched us carry the bags toward Luca’s room. 

When I returned to the kitchen, he switched off the stove eye and turned to me, “Sooo, what was all that?”

I smiled, “Books. I need you to go buy a bookshelf for Luca tomorrow. Preferably a full sized one.” 

He chuckled, sliding his hands onto my hips as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the mouth, “Thank you for today. Thank you for trying. I know this isn’t easy on you.” 

I smiled against his lips, “Strangely enough, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be. Thank you for pushing me.”

Luca came wandering into the kitchen, swinging his arms dramatically as he walked. He stopped in front of us, peering up at me with a shy smile, “Mrs. Talia, will you read with me after dinner?” 

I could feel Dieter smiling against my cheek as I turned to look at the boy, “Of course! We both will. How about you and Dieter go pick out a book while I finish up with dinner?” 

Luca smiled brightly, grabbing Dieter’s hand and tugging on it, “You heard her. Let’s go!”

Dieter snorted, giving me one last quick kiss on the cheek before Luca pulled him down the hallway. I smiled to myself, suddenly feeling overly emotional. A few tears slipped out as I turned my back toward the direction they had gone. Things were going to be different after today. I knew that. I could already feel it. I didn’t want to give this kid up. I wanted him to be ours. Dieter hadn’t explicitly said that, but I could tell he felt the same way. If they did find family to take him in, letting him go was going to be hard on the both of us. I had been worried about Dieter being able to handle it, but now I questioned if I could. 

The following Monday, Luca was set to return to school. He seemed totally fine with it, but I was a bundle of nerves. I was worried it would be too much for him, too soon, even though he had been handling things without issue. When the alarm went off, Dieter moved to get out of bed, but I stopped him. 

“You sleep in, I’ll take him. I have a million questions about his paperwork. It’ll be easier if I handle it.” 

Dieter snuggled into my side, burying his face in my neck, “You sure? I can still go with you.” 

I turned to face him, scratching at his graying stubble and nuzzling against his nose, “It’s fine, you were up late with your scripts. Get some sleep. I’ll be back shortly.” 

I leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but he deepened it as his hand gripped my hip and pulled me tightly against the hardness in his boxer briefs. 

I smiled against his lips, “Mmmm, hold that thought until I get back.” 

He whined, giving me one last peck before pulling away, “Ok, fine. Hurry back to me, mi amor (my love).” 

His fingers trailed after me as I rolled out of bed, he had his infamous sad puppy look on his face before he buried himself under the blanket to fall back to sleep. I threw on my robe and wandered down the hallway to make sure Luca was awake. The sound of the shower coming from his bathroom told me he was. I headed back to the master suite to make myself presentable while Dieter snored away under his pile of blankets and pillows. Just as I opened the bedroom door to head toward the kitchen to make breakfast, Moony came bursting in. I had to move quickly to grab him before he jumped on the bed and woke Dieter. After shooing him into the hallway, I followed, closing the door behind me. Moony quickly disappeared into Luca’s room, leaving me in peace to make a quick breakfast. 

I was plating our scrambled egg and cheese sandwiches when Luca came skipping into the kitchen with Moony on his heels. He seemed excited to be going back to school, which surprised me. He was eager and ate quickly, occasionally sneaking small pieces of egg to Moony under the table. A habit he had obviously picked up from Dieter. 

Minutes later, we gathered our things, put Moony downstairs in the dog room with the rest of the crew, and headed toward the school. I didn’t really have questions about his paperwork. I might have over dramatized that some. I did, however, want to get as much information as I could about Luca. I knew I would have a ton of questions if given the chance to talk to someone. 

Luckily, Luca’s teacher, Miss Katie, was in the front office waiting for us to arrive. After introducing herself, she sent Luca ahead to class so we could chat. 

She gave me a warm smile as we watched Luca walk down the hallway toward his room, “I was delighted to hear that you and Dieter would be taking Luca in. He’s improved so much since he started spending time with Dieter in the mentoring program. I’m sure he’ll continue to do so now.”  

I shrugged, “Yeah, well, it may not be permanent. We’re still waiting to hear back about other family members.” 

She nodded solemnly, “I didn’t get the impression he had a lot of family.” 

My lips set into a tight line, “Can I ask you about his home life? I don’t know much about it.”

She pursed her lips, “I mean, you’re his legal guardian now. So, I don’t see why not.” 

She paused briefly and sighed, “I don’t know much, but I don’t think it was good. They were low income…most weekends I sent food home with him to make sure he was covered. I’ve taken him to get a haircut a few times too. He often wore the same clothes several days in a row and came in dirty.” 

Her brows furrowed as she met my gaze, “It just seemed like his mom wasn’t very engaged with him. I always had a hard time getting her to respond, turn in paperwork, or come to meetings. When she did, she seemed distracted and honestly, sort of out of it. She would often leave him at school late. I’m not sure if it was because of work like she said or if she just forgot to get him. From what I’ve heard, she sort of went off the deep end after her husband died in that car accident. I don’t think she was very…present in his life if I’m being honest.”

Hearing this made my heart ache. How had he turned out to be such a good kid through all that? 

Miss Katie was smiling now, “But like I said, the mentoring program did wonders for him. He really began to come out of his shell after starting that. I know Dieter spent extra time with him…to help with homework. I obviously couldn’t share any details with Dieter at the time, but based on his line of questioning, I think he knew Luca didn’t have a good home life. He always wanted to help with him any way he could.”  

I had to fight back tears. Dieter had been there for this kid more than I had realized. I should have been more involved early on, but it was his thing. I didn’t want to overstep. I never would have guessed this would be the result. 

“Well, while Luca is with us, we’ll definitely be involved with his academics. He’s a smart kid and has a serious thirst for knowledge. It’ll be a top priority. I also just wanna make sure he’s ok. He seems to be handling things too well. I’m not sure if he fully understands what’s happened.” 

She sucked in a deep breath, seeming to think through her response. “At his age, it’s hard to say. I think he probably has an understanding of what death is. What they usually don’t understand is the finality of it…that it’s forever…but, with his father having passed, he may understand it better than most kids his age.” 

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded in understanding, “Is it normal that he seems unbothered by it though? He hasn’t even really mentioned his mother at all…directly anyway.”

She shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe he didn’t really have a strong bond with her. If that’s the case, then maybe not. You never know how trauma will affect a child. Has he seen a therapist or anything like that yet?” 

I shook my head, “Not yet. I’ve been in contact with someone we work closely with. She suggested we give him a little time to adjust before bringing him in…make sure he’s comfortable and feeling safe so that he’s more likely to trust the process and open up.” 

She gave me a warm smile, “Well, he couldn’t have been put with anyone better to help him through it. You guys are doing amazing work. I’m legitimately happy for him…and honestly, I hope he gets to stay with you.”

I cleared my throat, fighting the tears that were threatening to fill my eyes, “Yeah, me too.” I huffed out a laugh, “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for chatting with me.” I paused, digging in my bag, “I almost forgot, here’s his updated paperwork. Please call me if he needs anything…or if you do.” 

We said our goodbyes after that. As I got back into the car to head home, I couldn’t help wondering about Luca’s relationship with his mother. It made me sad for him, that he didn’t seem to have had a nurturing figure in his life. More than ever, I wanted to give that to him. I wanted him to have a normal, happy, and loving family. It wasn’t up to me though. I was powerless to make it happen. I had to rely on others to make the choice and I hated it. 

By the time I pulled into the garage, I was feeling needy. I needed to be loved and comforted by my husband. I wanted to feel connected to him. He was the only one that could settle the storm brewing in my thoughts. All of the ‘what ifs’ and possible outcomes were weighing heavily on my heart, causing my chest to feel tight. It was a level of anxiety that I hadn't experienced in some time. 

When I got inside, I went straight to the bedroom. I found Dieter sprawled out on his back in nothing but his black boxer briefs, the covers now shoved off to the side. He was snoring lightly, completely unaware that I had returned. After undressing down to my bra and panties, I crawled into the bed beside him, propping myself up on one elbow and draping my other arm and a leg across him. My hand roamed the width of his broad chest, stirring him from his slumber. 

His eyes blinked open slowly as he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. 

“Did you get everything figured out?” he asked with a gravelly tone. 

I nodded, not trusting my voice as I moved my hand to cup his cheek. His brows furrowed, his eyes now studying my face, “Everything ok?”

My lips set into a tight line as I nodded again. I let out a stuttered breath, “I just…need you...I need you to calm my mind.” 

I didn’t have to say another word. Dieter knew what I needed. He knew how to get me out of my head before I spiraled to a place that wasn’t healthy for me to be. The connection that scared us so much in the beginning was now our refuge. It’s how we communicated and grounded each other when things got tough. We had perfected it into our own brand of therapy. 

He leaned forward, kissing me deeply. His hands roaming my body as he gently turned us so that I was on my back allowing him to settle between my thighs. 

His lips moved downward, his breath heating my neck as he spoke against it, “Concéntrate en mí, mi luz. Déjalo ir.” (Focus on me, my light. Let it go.) 

His fingertips trailed down between my breast, my stomach, then dipped under the black lace of my panties, finding their destination at the apex of my thighs and dipping into the slick. His motions elicited a soft moan from my lips, making me forget my worries for the time being. He had me coming undone in no time as his thumb worked the sensitive nub and his fingers curled inside of me, hitting the right spot that he knew so well. I arched up into him, grinding into his hand as he nuzzled his nose against mine, “That’s it baby. Take what you need from me.” 

His darkened eyes peered down into mine, watching the waves of pleasure wash over me as my jaw fell slack and I trembled beneath him. He kissed me sweetly, slowing his movements and allowing me to come down. As I worked to catch my breath, he sat back on his heels, sliding my panties down my legs as he scooted backwards off the bed. He stood to remove his boxer briefs before crawling back to the center of the bed, tucking his thighs underneath mine, then pulling me up to straddle his hips. 

We sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. My fingers combed through his messy curls as his hands explored my body, settling at the center of my back to unhook my bra. I quickly discarded it on the floor with the rest of our clothes. He hugged me tightly against his chest, our mouths now tasting each other as I moved against his hard length. His lips eventually moved downward as I rose up on my knees, sucking one nipple into his mouth with his hand massaging the other. I moaned into the top of his hair as I hugged him against me, feeling the heat of his mouth going straight to my core. 

His hand freed my breast, moving downward to encircle his hard length to notch the head at my entrance. Our gazes locked as I slowly sank down onto him. His jaw went slack once I began rocking my hips and peppering his face with kisses and whispers of “I love you”. He nuzzled his nose against mine, staring deeply into my eyes with an occasional sensual kiss thrown in. This was our therapy, reconnecting with one another in the most intimate way we knew how. Grounding ourselves and mentally resetting to take on our worries together. 

We went on like that for some time, our sweat covered bodies moving as one until we crashed over the edge together. I tightened around him as stars formed behind my eyelids. Dieter whimpered loudly into my mouth as he spilled into me for the first time in two weeks. It had been two weeks too long. We hadn’t gone that long without being intimate since before we were married, which only seemed to make things more intense than normal. 

We sat in silence, trying to catch our breath as we let physical touch do the talking for us. Our hands running through each other’s hair and sliding across damp skin. Dieter’s head lolled backwards, now looking at me with a dazed smile. 

“I missed you. Let’s not wait that long again. I don’t care if I’m half dead at bedtime, make me do it anyway.” 

I chuckled, “Noted. Hopefully it’ll slow down now that things are settled some.” 

He nodded before kissing me deeply, pulling away to rest his forehead against mine. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on now? It’s talk time,” he said in a low voice.

I smiled and leaned back slightly, scratching at his scalp as my eyes took in his beautiful face - his chocolate eyes with the newly formed wrinkles around them from his constant smiles, his curved nose that I loved nuzzling against mine, the grays in his scruffy beard that sent me into sensory overload when he rubbed them against my inner thighs. This was my medication. Him. He was the only thing I needed to be calm and talk through my feelings. 

I sighed, “I don’t wanna let him go, Dieter. I want him to be ours…and I’m not sure how I’ll handle any other outcome.” 

I felt his arms tighten around me, “I know, baby. Me too. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll get through it together. Just like we do everything else…”

The tears were sliding down my cheeks now. His thumbs reached to wipe them away. I sniffled, “You know what he asked me the other day while we were at the aquarium?” 

He shook his head. I felt a smile tugging at my lips from the memory, “He asked if we’re gonna be his new parents. He said that’s what he wanted.”

Dieter’s eyes pooled with tears, “He really said that?” 

I nodded, “He did. I told him that it’s not up to us, but if that’s what he wanted, we would try if given the option. I didn’t think you would object to that.” 

The tears were sliding down his cheeks now, but he was smiling. It was happy tears. He sighed, “I can’t help thinking that it’s all gonna work out. It’s just a feeling I have.”

I reached up to wipe his tears away, “Do you ever wonder if all of this was meant to be? If our path was written in the stars from the beginning?” I inhaled a deep breath before continuing, “I mean…at what point does a series of coincidences become something more? We’re we destined to find each other and go through everything that we went through just so Luca could be in our lives? He probably wouldn’t be if things had happened differently. If we hadn't stayed in the same hotel in New York, or if you had lived just a few minutes farther away from me and I didn’t make it to you in time that night?”

He huffed out a laugh, “I don’t know about any of that…but if our story is written for us…I wouldn’t change a thing because it brought us together. If that was the way it was meant to happen, then so be it…fuck free choice. I have to believe this is gonna go in our favor because everything else has, even if it was a hard path. It just feels right.”

I gave him a sad smile, “I wish I could be as positive as you are about it, but I can’t get my hopes up. It’ll just crush me that much more if it doesn’t work out.” 

He kissed my forehead, “It’s ok, I have enough positivity about this for the both of us.” He pulled me tight against his chest, dipping his head to kiss my shoulder. “Can we stay like this until pickup time? I have two weeks to make up for.” 

I snorted out a laugh against his neck, “You’re so ridiculous.” 

He shrugged, “I’m sorry, my dick said he’s not done yet.” 

It was then that I realized he was already getting hard again, still nestled inside of me. I leaned back to look at him and was met with a mischievous smile. 

“Jesus Christ, Dieter! Already? Did you take Viagra or something?” I couldn’t hold back my laugh. 

He scoffed, looking offended at my suggestion. “I don’t need that shit. You know better. It's all me, baby. You do it to me.” He buried his face in my neck before inhaling deeply and groaning, “Fuck…you smell amazing. Why does that do things to me?” 

He fell over onto the bed, pulling me with him and setting off a fit of giggles which led into a rather playful round two. 

We did end up spending most of the morning in bed, eventually showering together, then having a late lunch. We both felt reinvigorated and ready to deal with whatever came our way. We needed that time together - time to regroup and share our emotions. 

I realized the disconnected feeling that I was having about the situation had now subsided. I was almost afraid to admit it, but as we picked Luca up from school that day, it felt like we were truly learning to be a family. It still scared me, but part of me also welcomed it. Luca was excited to see both of us there at pickup. The bright smile he gave us as he approached the car was completely worth it. 

We settled into a routine after that. Dieter and I would take turns dropping him off and picking him up from school. Sometimes we would both go when we could. Each night we would help him with his homework then spend some time reading before bed. I could see an improvement in his reading ability over the following weeks. His teacher was also reporting that he was having major improvements with his grades and seemed to be doing well emotionally. On the days he didn’t have a lot of homework, Dieter would teach him Spanish. He was picking it up quicker than me. It was clear, Luca was thriving in his new life. Dieter and I couldn’t have been prouder of him. 

When he wasn’t in school, he was with one of us - going to set with Dieter on his smaller jobs or hanging out with me in the office. He was forever inquisitive about everything happening around him, always full of questions on the drive home. 

Unfortunately, the more time Luca spent with us outside of the house, the more attention it brought from the paparazzi. We always avoided places where they lurked, but they were increasingly showing up in random locations. One late evening, they caught us leaving the office. Initially, they held back, filming from a distance. However, once I got Luca settled into the back seat, a couple of them appeared next to the car. They asked how I was doing. I played along and was polite at first, but then they asked about Luca. “Who is he? Why is he staying with you?” I shut them down, refusing to speak any further as I got into the driver's side to leave. 

A few days later, I was sitting on the couch, scrolling social media when I found some pictures of Dieter and Luca outside of a snow cone shop. The pictures linked to an online publication. Luca’s face was blurred out, but it was still rattling. The images showed Dieter and Luca laughing, Dieter with his arm around Luca’s shoulders as they waited in line, Dieter ruffling the boy's hair…just very mundane things that supported the most ridiculous article title: Does Dieter Bravo Have a Secret Love Child?

I nearly choked on nothing as I read it. Scrolling further down into the article revealed more pictures of the both of us dropping Luca off at school and the three of us out and about in town. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. I tried not to pay it much attention until shared posts started showing up in my feed, and other articles citing that one as a source. It seemed to be getting out of hand in a matter of hours of the original article being published. 

I sighed, pulling myself up off the couch to go find Dieter. He and Luca were downstairs in the craft room, painting. The sliding glass doors were open, allowing the dogs to chase each other in and out of the house, causing absolute chaos. Yet, they were both engrossed in their painting, completely unaware of the madness. I sidled up to Dieter, rubbing at his shoulder to get his attention. Without stopping his paint strokes, he slid one arm around my waist and pulled me into his side, hugging me to him in silence. 

“Dieter, I need to show you something.” 

He nodded, still focused on his canvas. “OK, so show me.” 

I held my phone up in front of his face. His eyes widened as he took in the article title, the paint brush slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, splattering blue paint everywhere. 

“What the fuck?!?! Seriously?!?!” 

Luca paused, now turning to look at us. “What’s wrong?” he asked with eyes as wide as Dieter’s. Dieter burst out laughing as he realized what they were insinuating. “The bullshit they come up with…that one takes the cake.” 

I huffed, “Aren’t you concerned that’s gonna cause a frenzy though? They’ve already started bugging us.” 

He sighed, “That’s a good point…I have an interview scheduled for Friday. Maybe I can address it then? Or Maybe Elaine can do a press release? I dunno… I’ll call her tonight.”

Luca was still watching us, wide-eyed. Dieter smiled at him, “It’s nothing hombrecito. Just the paps posting crazy stories about us.” 

Luca rolled his eyes and turned back around to work on his painting of what I assumed was Moony. 

Dieter grabbed my ass and squeezed gently, “Don’t worry about it, mi estrella (my star). I’ll take care of it.” 

He planted a juicy kiss on my lips. As he pulled away, Moony grabbed the paint brush he had dropped and took off outside. We watched in horror as two of the foster pups proceeded to try and grab it from him, getting blue paint all over their faces in the process. 

I snorted, “You’re cleaning that mess up.” 

Luca laughed loudly as Dieter dropped his head and slumped his shoulders in defeat. 

True to his word, Dieter did take care of the rumors. He addressed it during his interview, which was meant to focus on one of his new film projects. I tuned in to watch, nervous over how it would go. 

The interviewer opened by addressing the gossip head on, asking if it was true that he had a secret love child. Dieter laughed at the ridiculousness of it before diving into his response. 

“The short answer is no, I do not. I believe I was pretty open about being snipped before Talia and I got married. So, I’m not really sure how anyone came to that particular conclusion.” 

Then the interviewer asked, “And the long answer?”

His demeanor changed, a genuine smile spreading across his face now. “We do have a young gentleman staying with us right now. He’s a minor, so I’m not gonna share any details…but I can say that I worked with him through the mentoring program that our foundation funds through the local school system. He’s found himself in an unfortunate situation and needed a place to go. So, we’ve opened our home to him until things get figured out.” 

“So, it’s temporary then?” 

Dieter shrugged, “That’s what they’re telling us for now, but we’ll see.”

The interviewer gave him a warm smile, “Well, I hope things turn out the way you want them to. Thanks for sharing that with us. I know it’s been a hot topic the last few days. Now, let’s move on to your next film…” 

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. That seemed like it went well. My phone buzzed. It was Elaine. 

Elaine: Don’t worry. He answered it perfectly. That should calm things down. It’ll probably even translate to more (positive) press for him too. 

Me: Thanks. That helps calm my nerves some. 

Elaine: I know. 😏 (smirk emoji)

I chuckled. She knew me too well. 

Things did settle down with the paparazzi after that. Thankfully. However, there was still a black cloud hanging over us. We were waiting for the call that would change everything. It had been two months since Luca had first come to stay with us. I had only received the occasional text thus far to say there were no updates. However, on this day, my phone lit up with an incoming call from Amber. My heart immediately started hammering in my chest out of fear of what news she would bring. I hesitated, but finally answered. 

“Hey Talia, it’s Amber. I wanted to give you a call to share the latest. We got a lead on an aunt…his dad’s sister. We’re working to track her down. It’s the only thing we’ve got so far though. I’m not sure how promising it is.”

My mouth had gone dry, I almost couldn’t speak, “That’s…great news.” It sounded forced and disingenuous. 

I wasn’t sure if Amber picked up on it or not. If she did, she didn’t let on, “How’s he doing? Things still going well? We’re getting good reports from the school.” 

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, he’s doing great. He seems like he’s adjusted well.” 

“That’s good. You guys are doing a good job with him. Keep up the work. I’ll give you a call when I hear something new. Talk to you soon.”

I had to force a “goodbye” out as I disconnected the call. This wasn’t the news that I wanted, and I dreaded sharing it with Dieter. 

Dieter took the news about like I thought he would. His optimistic attitude was beginning to wane. Having the uncertainty of everything hanging over our heads made it hard to enjoy our time together as a family. Every time my cell phone rang, it took us out of the moment and raised our anxiety to max levels. We hadn’t told Luca about the latest development, deciding that we wanted him to enjoy his time with us with as little worry as possible. He deserved that much. 

About three and a half months into Luca’s time with us, we were all in the dining room. I was cleaning up after dinner while Dieter helped Luca with his math homework, or rather, Luca was teaching Dieter how to do his math homework because Dieter wasn’t following. We were laughing at Dieter’s tirade about how ridiculous math is when my phone rang. 

I saw Amber’s name flash across my phone. My expression must have given it away because Dieter’s words trailed off as he gave me a worried look. I gave him a tight smile before stepping outside onto the deck to take the call. 

“Hey Amber, how are you?” I asked, trying to sound chipper and happy to talk to her. 

“Hey Talia! I’m good. How is everyone on your end?”

I nodded as I responded, “G-Good. We’re all good here…” It didn’t sound very convincing. 

I could hear the smile in her voice, “That's great to hear. So, I’ll get to the point…After checking everything out, it looks like it’s all hinging on the aunt. There are no surviving grandparents and there doesn’t appear to be any other close relatives. We’re still trying to locate the aunt, but I’m gonna be honest…based on some of the feedback we’ve gotten, she may not be fit to take him even if she wants to. If that’s the case, then the next step is Luca becoming available for adoption.” 

I was quiet for a moment, processing her words. I was feeling both excitement and fear with this news. There was still a chance that someone else could get him, but we were one step closer. Amber interrupted my thoughts, “Is that something you think you guys might be interested in at this point? Adopting him? You get first dibs since he’s already with you.”

I inhaled deeply, “Ummm…” Dieter caught my eye through the window. He was still sitting with Luca at the table, but watching me intently, looking for any sign as to what was happening with our conversation. “Yes, we want to. More than anything…but…I do have some concerns.” 

Amber was quiet for a moment, “Such as?”

I let out a stuttered breath, “Will our mental health history be an issue? I don’t want to start this if there’s no chance…”

Amber cut me off, “No, no. Absolutely not. You guys have been good for a while now. You’re both doing great, and you make a point to take care of yourselves in that regard…and it gives you a hand up in dealing with Luca’s trauma too. As long as your doctor supports and signs off on it, it’s a non-issue.” 

I sighed in relief. This was something that had been at the back of my mind that I was afraid to acknowledge, but it seemed like it was reaching the point where I needed to. 

“That’s good to hear. That gives me some hope then…but I don’t wanna get my hopes up either.” 

“I understand that. It’s not an easy situation. Being a foster parent is hard. It takes a strong person to let these kids in, knowing they may ultimately have to let them go and never see them again.”

I huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think I can do this again. As much as I want to, I can’t.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised by that. I’m happy you tried it though. At least you know what it’s about.” 

“Yeah…me too…”

We ended the call after that. I was rubbing at my forehead as Dieter walked out onto the deck, silently closing the door behind him. 

“What did she say?” he asked. The look on his face could only be described as a mixture of fear and anguish. 

“They’re still looking for the aunt…but it’s down to her. There are no other options. If she can’t or doesn’t want to take him, then he’ll be available for adoption.” 

You could see the tension leave Dieter’s body as he closed the space between us and pulled me into a tight hug.

“That’s good news then. We’re one step closer. It’s better than the alternative.”

I sighed, “Yeah, I guess. You know…I feel kind of shity hoping that no one wants this kid. It’s sad for him. I don’t want him to feel unwanted and like he doesn’t have a family, yet that’s exactly what I’m wishing for. I feel selfish.” 

Dieter pushed some stray hairs back off my face, “That’s not true, mi vida (my life). He’s wanted and he does have a family…doesn’t matter if it’s not by blood. We wanna give him a life and we will…a fulfilling and happy one. That’ll be enough for him. So, wish away. It’s not selfish if we have good intentions.” 

I nodded, fighting back tears. He always knew the right thing to say to calm me. 

We decided to wait until we had more concrete news before we told Luca anything. I knew he had to be curious. He never asked though. We continued through our daily routine, living as a family and falling completely in love with the kid more and more with each passing day. He fit into our life so perfectly and was literally becoming a mini version of Dieter. Seeing them together made my heart feel complete, filling in that last little puzzle piece that I hadn’t even realized was missing. 

Seeing the fatherly side of Dieter was causing me to fall for him even more, which I didn’t realize was possible. The man had so much love to give now that he had opened himself up to it and he had no limits. I loved every version of him, but this one…it was something else. 

About a month later, I was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. Dieter had left to drop Luca off at school. I had just watched one of the foster dogs overturn a large bowl of water as they all caused chaos throughout the house, when my phone rang. It was Amber. I felt my stomach drop. I knew this call was going to change everything. It was the call we had been anxiously awaiting while simultaneously hoping it never came. 

As soon as Amber greeted me, I was trying to read her voice. She was giving me nothing as she got into her usual small talk. I finally had to cut her off. 

“Amber, I don’t mean to be rude, but can we cut to the chase? What’s going on?”

She chuckled, “It’s not rude. I know you guys have been waiting for a while to see how this is gonna go.” 

I laughed nervously, “Yeah, we have.”

I could hear her take a deep breath before she continued. It immediately set me on edge. 

“Well…depending on how you look at it, I have some good news.”

That didn’t really tell me anything. In fact, it made me more nervous. “Ok, and that news is…?”

She was smiling now, “So, we finally got in contact with the aunt. She’s not interested or even able to care for him. Which means you guys can start the process for adoption if you still want that.” 

I couldn’t hold back my tears. It took everything in me to keep from sobbing into the phone. “Yes. Yes, of course we do. I mean, I wanna talk to Luca about it first, but yes…we do.” 

“I thought you might say that. I’ll send the paperwork over this afternoon. I’m here to help you through the process, so let me know if you need anything.” 

I thanked her before disconnecting the call. I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, unable to move in disbelief. The sobs bubbled up from my chest, no longer able to contain them. I was feeling every emotion - excitement, happiness, relief. It was almost too much. Dieter came in from the garage just as I was allowing the emotions to overtake me. He immediately rushed over to me, engulfing me in his arms and pulling me tightly against his chest as he begged me to tell him what was going on. It took me a minute to finally compose myself enough to talk. 

I sniffled, “Amber just called…”

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, looking like he was about to break as his eyes filled with tears. 

I shook my head, still sniffling, “N-No, it’s good news. The aunt…she didn’t want him. Amber’s sending the adoption paperwork over today.” 

I watched his features shift from distraught to excitement as a brilliant toothy smile spread across his face. His eyes flooded with happy tears as sobs rippled through his body. He pulled me back into a tight embrace mumbling sweet words into my neck. We were elated as realization set in that we were finally going to have a son. 

Dieter and I went to pick Luca up from school together that afternoon. We had decided that we would tell him the news at dinner and ask him how he felt about it. So, when Luca asked from the back seat why we were so smiley, it took everything in us not to say anything just yet. Dieter chuckled, changing the subject without answering him. Instead, he asked Luca what he wanted for dinner. 

He put his finger to his chin, like he was deep in thought, “Hmmm…how about…pizza!” 

Dieter and I laughed at his enthusiasm and agreed that it felt like a pizza night. To Luca’s delight, we stopped to pick up two pizzas on the way home. As we walked inside, I watched Luca go to his room to put his things away. A few minutes later he returned and without a word began preparing the dog's dinner while Dieter assisted. They disappeared downstairs to feed everyone while I pulled out cups and plates for us to eat once they were finished. The way we had settled into our life still amazed me most days and it was hitting me all over again that this would soon be permanent. 

Just as we were finishing up dinner, Dieter was the one to bring up the news. I watched as his fingers began to absentmindedly trace the groove in his glass of water. He was nervous. I reached over and took his other hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. 

“So…Luca, we got some news today that we wanna talk to you about.” 

Luca looked between us, his brown eyes wide and hopeful. Something told me he knew what it was about. He gently pushed his plate away and leaned forward on the table, waiting for Dieter to continue.

“It looks like we’re gonna be given the opportunity to apply for adoption so that you can stay with us…but we wanna make sure you’re ok with that first.” 

Luca’s brows furrowed, “Does that mean you can be my parents for real?”

Dieter shot a nervous glance in my direction before looking back at the boy, “Yeah, that means we can be your parents for real. You would be stuck with us, forever.”

Luca’s eyes filled with tears, “Really? I can stay here?” 

Dieter and I both nodded. Luca launched out of his seat to run around the table and hug us. 

“We still have to go through the process, and it has to be approved by the court, but we’re gonna do everything we can to make it official.” I added. I wanted to make it clear that we still had a process to get through. It didn’t matter though, the prospect of it was enough. We were all a crying mess before it was all said and done. Excited about the news and possibilities. 

Dieter and I worked to get the paperwork started and submitted within days of receiving it. It was a long and arduous process, but we managed it. After eleven months of jumping through all the hoops of paperwork, home visits, check ins, and interviews, we finally got our adoption hearing with the court. The entire family joined us as did many of our close friends. Several representatives from the school and CDSS were in attendance as well to show their support in addition to the numerous letters of support that had been submitted to the court on our behalf. With no dissent or challenges to the adoption, the judge had no issues with approving it. The judge praised us for the work we were doing with Luca and with the community. Everyone broke out into cheers as Dieter pulled Luca and I into his chest for a group hug. We couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. 

As we exited the courthouse, we thanked everyone who came to support us. Luca had a smile on his face through it all, holding on to mine and Dieter’s hands as we walked through the building. It was an emotionally exhausting morning for us, but we were in high spirits as we reached the car, discussing where to go for a celebratory lunch.

Dieter dropped Luca’s hand to reach for the back door to open for him, but Luca, who was still holding my hand tightly in his other one, grabbed Dieter’s wrist, stopping him from opening the door. We both paused, giving him a questioning look.

“Does this mean I can call you mom and dad now?” he asked in a shy voice as he looked between the two of us. 

Dieter and I glanced at each other, both of us clearly getting emotional all over again as tears pooled in our eyes before kneeling down to Luca and pulling him into a hug. We sat there in silence for a brief time, all of us sniffling like fools. 

“You can call us whatever you want, hombrecito (little man),” Dieter finally said. 

“Within reason,” I added with a chuckle. 

Dieter and Luca snorted as I mussed the boy’s hair. Luca leaned over to Dieter conspiratorially, “I guess mujer mandona (bossy woman) is out of the question then?” 

Dieter’s tea kettle laugh sounded across the parking lot as he shook his head from side to side. I stared at the two of them trying to figure out what was so damn funny. 

Dieter finally sputtered out between chuckles, “I would probably avoid that one, bud.”

I huffed, looking at Luca, “What did you say?” The only response he gave was to shake his head, still smiling. I looked toward Dieter, “What did he say? Dieter?”  

Dieter laughed harder, refusing to answer me as he continued to shake his head and hold his stomach with his hand. 

“Ok, I see how it is you two...You're on dinner duty tonight for that.” I said as I got into the passenger seat of the car, smiling and shaking my head at them. 

Dieter opened the back door, allowing Luca to plop down before he got into the driver's seat. They were both still chuckling as I gave them some serious side eye. Dieter suddenly gasped loudly, “I have an idea! Let’s head off the gossip columns and make it Instagram official.” 

I arched an eyebrow in his direction, then looked at Luca. He smiled and shrugged, “Sure.”

Dieter pulled out his phone as Luca scooted forward to lean between the front seats. Dieter squished his cheek against Luca’s and held his arm out to take a picture, but paused, then turned to look at me. 

“Come on mama, you’re gonna be in it too,” he said with a smirk. Luca was smiling at me now too. 

His words and their smiles made my heart flutter in my chest, causing me to feel almost giddy. How could I say no to that? I leaned forward and squished my cheek against Luca’s while Dieter did the same to the other side. All of us gave the camera cheesy smiles as he snapped a few pics. We examined the images and picked the best one, all giving our approval before Dieter went to work. 

Once Dieter made the post, he shoved his phone away and gave me a lopsided grin. I narrowed my eyes at him as I unlocked my phone to check Instagram. 

The post was already racking up likes and comments. It was a cute picture, with an even cuter caption: “Our family just got bigger. It’s Luca Bravo’s gotcha day! Your mama and papa love you, hombrecito!” 

For the first time in months, I felt light and unencumbered. We were finally a family without worry and full of love and happiness. What more could we possibly ask for? 

Dieter’s hand moved to my thigh, squeezing gently as he pulled out onto the main road to be immediately stopped by a red light. He glanced over at me with a mischievous grin. 

“What are you smiling about?” I asked.

He fought to keep a straight face as he glanced at me for a second time, “Me and Luca want a baby goat.” 

Well…there’s that. 

A/N: Everyone, give a big cheer for Dieter and Talia's one year anniversary! I can't believe it's been a year since I introduced these two to the world. Thank you for all the love and support you have given to them (and me) through it all. I'm sure we will see more of these two at some point. We need to know how Dieter finally ended up with that baby goat that he wanted so badly...

Now that we have learned the details about how Luca came to be in their care and Dieter and Talia's journey to expand their family, does that change your view on the events that come later in the Epilogue? They really have been put through it.

And we got more Daddy Dieter goodness, that's always fun. Doesn't he just make you melt? I think how he handled everything in this oneshot shows just how much he has grown...and how much Talia has too.

I'll stop rambling now. Sound off about your thoughts with a comment or reblog. You know I love to hear them!

Want more Dieter & Talia? Check out their story at the links below:

✨Destiny & Deliverance is where it all started.

✨The Light in the Darkness tells us the story from Dieter's POV. (New chapters coming soon.)

If you would like to be added to the Destiny & Deliverance Universe tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Divider Credits: Reblog/MDNI: @cafekitsune Stars: @saradika

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