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sundrop-writes · 8 months

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My Bleeding Heart

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary:

When Draco finds out that you are pregnant, he can't bring himself to be happy about the news because he doesn't want to bring a child into this wartorn world just to be another pawn in the Dark Lord's games. So, then and there, he makes a very important decision to risk everything in order to protect you and his future child.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage. Angst (with a Fluffy Ending). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 3,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is pregnant in this fic; this is set during Deathly Hallows and there are a lot of themes from that era - death, blood purity ideals, general violence, murder, mentions of Draco being tasked with killing Dumbledore; Draco and the reader live in an environment where they fear for their lives because they don't believe in Death Eater values completely and fear being killed for it; Draco and the reader are in an arranged marriage meant to carry on blood purity - but they have fallen in love in the marriage; the reader is a pureblood, but I have not mentioned her being related to any canon characters, so her appearance/race is not defined; general emotional angst - Draco fears for his own life, your life, and the fate of your unborn child if they are born into pureblood society; in the first half, there is some arguing/tension between Draco and the reader (but it's mostly due to the emotional tension of their situation); mentions of Dumbledore's death; non detailed mentions of sex (that's how we got the baby, duh) (sadly no smut); passing mention of abortion/pregnancy termination (they both want the child but fear for the child's safety in this environment); semi-graphic mentions of consensually inflicted injuries - Draco gets the reader to cut off the skin with his Dark Mark on it so that he can't be tracked or summoned with it; these warnings make it seem like a really dark fic but the ending is really fluffy I promise; toward the end, the reader and Draco have a toddler who refers to them as 'Mummy' and 'Daddy', and I think that is about it.

Author's Notes: The prompt of 'character finds out you are pregnant' was originally from the fluff prompts list, but because this is Draco, I couldn't help but to throw some angst in here. Because I imagine that if Draco was still living with his parents and surrounded by Death Eaters and the blood purity ideals, he would be very hesitant to want a child of his own because he wouldn't want a child to be tainted by all of it the way that he had been. Because at a certain point, the pride he felt turned sour. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy because this does get fluffy toward the end.

...

Terror.

That was the very first thing Draco could tangibly say that he was feeling.

The last two years of his life had been a sickening rollercoaster of utter chaos, and quite frankly, he had become numb to it all. He had to force himself to be numb, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived. And currently, survival was his only feasible goal. But this - this news touching his ears was one thing that woke up his senses from that numbness and sent him rocketing into the harshness of reality. This made him feel again, in the worst ways. Suddenly he was nauseous, shaking, blood rocketing against his ear drums, creating a harsh thumping in seconds.

He wished that he had heard you wrong.

“Are - are you sure?” He stuttered out, feeling his hands becoming exceptionally clammy as he clutched them around nothing, his feet unsteady on the ground.

You saw him becoming remarkably pale for someone who was already so papery toned on a normal day, and you worried that he was going to faint. You worried that his harsh reaction meant that he hated the idea of you being pregnant - that he was angry with you. Of course, you realised that the fault wasn’t all on you, that was just nature. But part of you thought that he put the onus on you to take care of birth control, using potions or spells, because he had been worried about so many other things since the start of your relationship.

Up until now, you weren’t sure if you wanted what they wanted. You weren’t naive enough to look beyond the reason you had married Draco in the first place. You were there to produce the next pureblood heir with him. Originally, you had thought it was romantic, in a sense. But when you had met Draco’s family, the people he was surrounded with, the people who called themselves Death Eaters - you realised that it most certainly wasn’t an ideal environment to bring a child into.

Killing at the drop of a hat, torturing, murdering the innocent - those weren’t ideals that you wanted your child to be brought up on.

“Draco, sit down, please,” You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to usher him toward one of the expensive chairs sitting in the corner of his room.

You had stolen him away for a rare moment of privacy between meetings and Death Eaters traipsing around the house. These days, his parents always demanded that the two of you make good on appearances because you were supposed to be the sweet young couple, the future of the pureblood line.

“Are you sure?” He whispered the question much more harshly, the words hissed through his lips like pure venom as he desperately waited for you to confirm it.

He let himself be guided by you and collapsed down into the chair, sitting with his head in his hands, ruffling up his usually neat, slicked-back hair with rough, stressful fingers through it.

Your stomach twisted with your own unique stress as you watched him. You hadn’t seen him so distraught since his first failed attempt on the mission he had been given last year.

“I’m sure.” You said. “I went to the apothecary and got one of the test potions-”

“A store bought test potion?” Draco hissed.

He gave you the harshest glare that you had ever seen from him, which was saying something considering the looks of pure disdain he had given you upon first meeting. His jaw was set so tightly that it looked as though his molars were going to crush in on themselves at any moment.

Your posture shrunk back, desperately trying to hide from his invasive stare. You wished that you could have burrowed under the floorboards at that point.

You knew that it was fear and panic about the situation at large, all the death you had been surrounded with compounding onto him. But you hated that he was inadvertently taking it out on you.

After a moment of you not speaking, Draco continued.

“I should have made it myself, if you had just told me-”

“Yes, and nobody would have become suspicious if you were mulling around, gathering the ingredients for a pregnancy test potion.” You snapped back.

Draco’s face grew even more sickly at this, and you knew that you were both silently on the same page - nobody else in the house could know that you were pregnant. If they even suspected it, then it was over.

He heaved a sigh, gathering all of his thoughts before he chose one to bring to open air.

“Were you seen?” He asked, still tearing into you indignantly, talking to you as though you were stupid.

“No.” You told him, entirely certain. “I wore a large cloak with a hood, it was dark. Nobody recognized me.”

He gave you a distinct frown that said he was unsure of the truth in your words, and you rushed to trample over his potential sarcastic remark with your own.

“I suppose they don’t recognize me when I’m not on your arm, anyway.”

You scoffed out the last part, talking about this fact with distaste even though in actuality it was something you loved. You felt safe when you were with Draco. You couldn’t imagine facing the scowling faces without his arm around you.

But you knew that’s all you were in this society - Draco’s wife. That’s all you had been labelled as since you had been shipped over from America by your godmother.

You were the last of your noble pureblood family’s line. Your parents had been killed by Aurors in the name of Voldemort’s cause during the first war. After their deaths, you had been sent to live with your godmother in America, never truly understanding how your parents were killed or why.

The whole reason you had met Draco in the first place - an arranged marriage. Something that would have honoured your parents, apparently.

The Malfoys had been looking for a pureblood match around Draco’s age, and they had once known your parents, and thought of you as a good prestigious pureblood girl to marry their son. It didn’t take them long to find you, even though you didn’t mingle in pureblood society like they did. (Something they found to be a big shame and a horror upon your parents’ memory.)

Your godmother sold you out for a ‘dowry’ of two thousand Galleons, and from there, your life became a living hell.

Strangely enough, Draco had been the one anchor keeping you alive in it.

Most would say that it was because he was kind by comparison, but truly - he was easy to fall in love with when he was compassionate, sweet, loving in the smallest ways that made you feel safe during some of the most hectic times of your life.

Draco had never intended to get attached to you.

But like anything in his life - pining for the crumbs of his father’s approval, digging under all the proprietary for a single genuine gesture of affection from his mother - Draco’s heart kept beating as much as he tried to turn it off. He convinced himself that he was solid stone, but apparently, you were the pickaxe that made him crumble to pieces. After meeting him, you burrowed through the layers of snide coldness and dark humour that he used in an effort to put you off and you found that still beating heart. That soft thing that he hated so much about himself.

You dug that heart out of his chest, and - despite his best efforts to fight you off, you nursed that heart back to health. And you gave him the closest thing he had experienced to ‘love’ in years.

On the day the two of you got married, when Dumbledore’s dead body was barely cold, Draco said his vows to you with nothing but honesty in his heart. And that night, he made love to you with intense passion, held you in his arms as though you might slip away if he didn’t grip onto you tight enough. And only after you had fallen asleep in his arms, was when he allowed himself to cry. Because he knew that they now had one more way to make him hurt if they wanted to. They could kill him, they could stop the breath in his lungs, but he would die a million deaths through you being hurt in the smallest of ways before that happened.

And now - with this utterly horrifying revelation, they had new ways to hurt him. He should have died a lone man. He should have let them kill him instead of agreeing to any of this in the first place. He shouldn’t have learned to love - he shouldn’t have grown these new limbs that they could cut off savagely and tear apart in front of him.

“I got another one.” You announced when the room had grown too quiet, silent tears streaming down Draco’s face as he sat in intense contemplation. “Another test potion. An extra. I figured you’d want to see it with your own eyes.”

Even though the two of you had only met two short years ago - you knew him too well. You knew that he would want visual confirmation before his own eyes.

“Get it. Please.” He said, trying his best not to let his throat drown in these tears. He wouldn’t be reduced to sobbing.

You went to your cloak, which was hung on a hook in an opposite corner of the room, and grabbed the potion vial out of your pocket. Your shoes clacking against the floor made a terribly hollow soundtrack to the whole thing as you ripped off the small tag that was tied to the neck of the potion bottle and handed it to Draco. He read the instructions on it while you uncorked the potion.

It was simple: you put some sample of your DNA in the bottle - a hair, a small bit of blood, something like that. And then if the potion changed colours to glow white, it meant that you were pregnant. If it made no change from its original, soupy grey colour - then you weren’t pregnant.

He watched, holding his breath as you plucked a single hair from your head and then dropped it into the now open top of the bottle. When the hair made contact with the liquid, it bubbled slightly as it dissolved. Then - after only a moment, the bottle began to shake roughly in your hand as it changed colour, and surely enough - it glowed brightly white.

You were definitely pregnant.

Draco’s nausea increased. And then - in a moment, he felt a fierce sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was as though he had been slapped sharply across the face, woken up from the blind numbness he had been feeling. He knew at that moment that he needed to take action. He couldn’t simply stand by and let things happen around him anymore. He could simply sit around hoping for safety, hoping for some miracle to save the two of you.

“Happy?” You scoffed.

You took Draco’s lack of words as a negative - a sign that he was certainly unhappy with the news.

Not that you were entirely thrilled under the present circumstances - you were scared, stressed, and hating it because you had always wanted children, but not like this.

You placed the potion down on the nearest table and stormed off to the bathroom attached to Draco’s bedroom. He chased you, catching the door before you could slam it closed and lock it.

You conceded to his movements quickly and simply turned to face the sink, unable to look at him right now. You turned it on, splashing cold water on your face, trying your best not to freak out because clearly he was already playing that role. He walked up behind you, gently pressing his body into yours. Even under these circumstances, you found his presence so comforting. You found his body behind you to be nothing but a wall of safety, and you couldn’t help but to lean back into him, your eyes still tightly closed.

Draco reached around you and gently pressed his hand into your stomach - you held back tears of your own now. Clearly, you were both thinking the same thing. Thinking of the unborn child that you both needed to protect. You placed your hand over his, seeking comfort in his touch as he flattened a palm across your stomach.

It was a world shattering revelation to know that his child was resting under his hand.

“No one can find out about this.” He muttered quietly into your neck.

It was something Draco dreaded - them finding out about your pregnancy.

This is what they had been waiting for. This was the reason for the marriage in the first place. This was the pureblood heir - this was their chess piece.

Draco wouldn’t let his child become another pawn in their games.

“It’s still early.” You choked out quietly. “There are other potions. We could-” You choked on your own words, unable to even speak it aloud.

Draco dug his fingers into the fabric of your shirt protectively, quite insulted at the insinuation.

“No.” He replied, his voice rough with anger. “Unless the idea of being pregnant with my child is so utterly horrible to you-”

“It’s not that!”

You screeched, forcefully turning in his arms, wanting to face him. He kept one hand on your hip, and moved the other up to gently grasp your cheek, thumbing away your tears as they gathered. It was that gentleness that always got you. His natural instinct to comfort you.You leaned into his touches as you continued.

“I want this baby more than anything. I - I’m just terrified they’ll see that as a weakness.”

You knew it was the truth. Especially when Draco’s sullen face confirmed it. In this circle, loving anything or anyone was a weakness that could be exploited.

Draco leaned in and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting the single, solitary moment of peace wash over you.

“I’ll protect you.” He declared, his voice whisper-quiet, but nearly broken with the intensity of his words. “Both of you.” He added this on as he brushed his palm over your stomach once again.

Again, you laid your hand over his, uttering quiet assurances of love toward your unborn child.

“Draco, how-?”

He didn’t let you finish the question.

“We’ll leave. We’re leaving. Tonight.” He declared firmly.

It was something you had suggested before - to protests from Draco, many scathing comments poking holes in your plans. His parents would be killed if he left. At this point, he had to surrender to the idea that they could take care of themselves - that they had made their bed and they had to lie in it. But now that he had the Dark Mark, they would be able to find him, wherever he went. But he would find some harsh way around that.

Now that he had so much more at stake, he couldn’t care if his parents died because of his actions. He had so much more that he had to protect.

“I’ll cut off my bloody arm if I have to.” Draco mumbled quietly, and then turned sharply from the bathroom, leaving to pack.

…

“Daddy, Mummy’s not being fair! She won’t let me play with the jellyfish!”

“Draco, can you please explain to your daughter that jellyfish are dangerous and she can’t play with them?” You replied, trying your best to haul your toddler away from the rough rocks at the water’s edge where the creature had washed up.

“Love, why don’t you come and play with your toys over here?” Draco posed, trying to draw her attention toward something else. She was much like himself as a child - determined, stubborn, and wouldn’t do anything unless she believed it was her own idea first. “Come and show Daddy how to build a sand castle, hmm?”

She seemed to perk up at this. She was clever, and over-eager to show off her skills. More than eager to show her father how to do something properly if she felt that he wasn’t doing it right. This happened with everything from the way he spread marmalade on his toast to the way he tied his shoes - something she had just learned how to do that she was eager to show off her expertise in.

As she tore out of your arms and trudged across the beach to scoop some sand into her bucket, Draco had to be thankful as he watched you follow slowly behind. Purely thankful of the fact that the biggest danger your daughter had to worry about was something like a stray jellyfish washed up on shore.

Three years after escaping a life of servitude toward the Dark Lord in England, you and Draco enjoyed a quiet life with your daughter Aster in France.

You sat down beside Draco with a huff, picking up the book you had previously been reading. You flashed him a grateful smile as he listened to Aster’s detailed instructions about how they should build their castle. He gave you a wide grin in return, and you felt your insides tingle. His smile used to be something as rare as a Basilisk, but now he wore it proudly and more often - he wore his happiness without restraint.

With the short-sleeved, light linen shirt that he had on for the beach, the scar on his forearm was fully visible. It reminded you of the brave choices he had made on that night three years ago.

You had convinced Draco not to cut off his arm completely, but the two of you knew that the Dark Mark needed to go. Otherwise, the two of you could never run far enough, you would have nowhere to hide. So now he sported a large scar where you had held him down and cut the skin off with a sharp knife. That night, his parents had found his room empty, save for the flap cut-off skin in the middle of his bloody bedroom floor. Luckily, you had a talent for healing spells and Draco had been able to knick a few good potions from his family’s cupboards before the two of you left.

On the outside, it was jagged and ugly. But when he looked at it, it reminded him of nothing but freedom - of the love you had committed to him that day, to your unborn daughter.

With a couple thousand Galleons in gold taken from his parents’ stash, the two of you started a new life. You were untraceable and happy. And though there was intense relief when you read in the papers that Potter had succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord and that meant the war was over - the two of you didn’t have any plans to go back to England anytime soon.

Not when your new life was this good.

“-and see, you need to dig down until you find the sand that’s wet, that makes a good castle-” Aster drawled on, piercing her toy shovel into the ground frantically as she spoke.

Draco nodded, giving her a smile as he followed her instructions. “Yes, yes. I see. Very smart girl.”

He had gotten the two of you away from that life, and not for a moment had your daughter ever known the kind of pain or fear that you had.

“Daddy’s learning a lot today, isn’t he?” You remarked, giving Draco a sly grin.

“Good thing I’ve got this smart girl here to teach me,” He said, leaning over and giving Aster a kiss on the forehead.

That was another thing that made you fall even deeper in love with him - the droves of affection he gave to his daughter. Now that he wasn’t being watched so closely, now that he wasn’t expected to be the picture perfect son, he could love her exactly how he wanted to. He didn’t have to worry about propriety or appearing weak.

Aster giggled at this, and Draco blew raspberries on her cheek before kissing her again. She then rallied Draco up to go to the shoreline for a bucket of water. As you watched them walk hand in hand, you felt your heart ache from how overwhelmingly full of love you were.

Somehow, you found yourself endlessly thankful for the rocky road of fate that had brought you here.

#sundrop writes #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n

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lexumpysfunland · 2 months

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After looking at all the Narrators I got I kinda had to pick from all of them- I'm sorry if your Narrator isn't on the list of those I've drawn ;-;

besides that, I had to make sketches for all of those I've drawn : D

Start with @bugenthusiast0 's Narrator... better have the notif to see it because your Narrator looks adorable... I want to hug him

Next, have @finnleywiththesillys 's fun Narrator.

Next, we have @jestie-bestie , they look so nice??? I want to enjoy some tea with them!

Next, it's @employee052 turn, I made him look disgusted x'D he probably is disgusted to know I'm drawing him-

Next... probably the one that started my obsession with TSP really- it's @squarratorsideblog Virus Narrator... I mean... can you blame me for loving this guy? Just look at him!? will probably draw him again

next is @aiberry I find his design really cool- yes, I put something in his screen as a 'placeholder' kind of... forgive me for doing that ;-;

Next is @mariade11art . I really like the way he looks! so for me, it's a win! also... can I hug him?

Next is @lazy-b1rdy . he looks really cute~ I don't know if I'll give him back though /j

Next is @coralkrill 's Narrator. he looks adorable, I do want to hug this silly guy~

Next, we have... @ihazmunchies91 ... can I say how WONDERFUL he is? looks evil and I love that- I love him may draw him in the future again

Next is @semisocialporcupine . I can say that now that I saw how he looked in human form I can die happy.

Then it's @xandyprojects 's turn with a very interesting design I admit! it reminded me of Garnet from Steven Universe... somehow? but anyway, I like it!

and we finish with @juaneloriginal ! the fluffy Narrator that I see everywhere. he is cute though so yeah he deserves it...

and it's all I did... I kinda need a break for a bit since I have a fun headache coming hahah

but for all those who discovered a Narrator or just a new artist you like, go give these people some love! they all deserve it !!

thank you everyone for giving me your designs so I can draw them! I hope you all like it ;-;

I want to say sorry for those I wasn't able to draw... they're all really cool and if I had more motivation I would've drawn them. but hey I'll probably do that again so maybe next time!

on that note, I'll ... try to get some rest maybe... even if I feel like Walter is going to be jealous because I haven't drawn him today /j

#yeay I did it!#I feel Walter staring at me from the shadows /j #thank you everyone #narratorverse #tsp narrator #the stanley parable narrator #narrator #tsp fanart #tsp #tspud #tsp art #tsp fandom #tsp au #fan art

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bridenore · 1 month

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HD Being on the run fic recs

Here are a few Harry/Draco recs where Harry and Draco are on the run. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl [69k]

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Crown Witness by @slytherco [70k]

After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family. When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything. In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain.

Eclipse by Mijan [287k]

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi [93k]

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Oh, Sinnerman by @lou-isfake and @babooshkart [40k]

“I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood. It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena [128k]

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Harry. Hiding out with Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

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nevertheless-moving · 2 months

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Hesina Willshaper AU

Step one canon divergence: Amaram's army doesn't do the kind thing. Kaladin's listed next of kin are sent a letter stiffly informing them that their son is a deserter and, thanks to the highmarshall's mercy, has been sold into slavery.

Step two canon divergence: a light spren has started following Hesina around.

The letter reaches hearthstone.

Hesina cries the bones of the first ideal through labor pangs. Their wretched diamond lamp grows slightly dimmer during childbirth.

Hesina and Lirin discuss if there's anyway they could possibly find their son and pay his slave debt. They're not optimistic.

Hesina talks with her lightspren.

Lirin and Hesina talk again about trying to find their son, now that Oroden is starting to be weaned.

Hesina appears to have grown taller. No one but the two of them seem to be aware but they're worried other future changes might be more noticeable.

Hesina and Lirin realize that she can mold rock as if it was clay with stormlight. A spark of hope for freeing their son emerges.

The two leave town.

They find a slave market in the nearest city. They see other parent's sons, but not their own.

Hesina swears to free those in bondage. Stormlight starts coming easier.

They make a tunnel. Rebellion follows. Lirin is horrified by the violence (the violence is not actually that bad all things considered. a couple guards dead. some bystanders frightened. Fair amount of property damage as they rob the military barracks food supply, steal every sphere that's not nailed down. and also steal the spheres that are nailed down. (Lirin won't admit it but the stealing from lamps part is kindof fun.)).

Many of those they freed flee. Some return to slavery willingly, scared of retribution. Many decide to follow the Radiant woman who has vowed to see others like them freed.

The group proceed to the next town. They find another slave market. They make a tunnel. There is more resistance than last time, clearly they were warned something might happened. Hesina kills a man.

Lirin is terrified by what his wife is becoming.

Hesina swears to shelter those without homes. The lightspren forms an unbreakable hammer, perfect for knocking crem free from buildings. And for knocking down men.

A now larger motley group seeks shelter in a mountain town razed in one of Alethkar's many skirmishes over the last decades. Hesina builds homes. Lirin begs her to stay here, to stop fighting before she goes to far down this path, not to go to war. The slaves they've freed are split, many wanting to stay, hide, some wanting to fight and free more, with a radiant at their head, there's a real chance to change things. Hesina lingers, practicing, spends some time falling in and out of shadesmar.

Lirin and Hesina separate.

Lirin stays with Oroden and the noncombatants. Hesina leads those who want to fight to another city, still trying to find their son, still trying to free everyone's children.

The town settles into a routine. Hesina and Lirin miss one another. This is the first time they've gone longer than two days without seeing each other in the last 25 years, and the two days was only when Lirin had to travel to where someone had overturned a cart on the road nearby and Hesina had to stay and watch the children, too young to travel. besides that, it had been every day. they keep turning to talk to each other.

While the army is gone, the free town is attacked by those trying to reclaim her property.

Hesina swims deliberately through shadesmar for the first time. reaches lirin just in time.

Lirin accepts that not fighting won't stop the violence. (It breaks him just a little bit)

Hesina shouts that one person's freedom ends where another's begins. She vows to fight against powers which would rather see their people in cages then homes. A thousand light spren rise up to grant her strength.

(yes I know she's moving fast through the oaths. but she's always been a thoughtful woman and she raised two children who asked difficult questions and now shes mother to another several hundred. honestly she had already worked through some of these concepts before they became actionable on such a grand scale.)

Lirin vows to support his wife through whatever trials the Almighty seems inclined to put her through.

The lightspren, who has started to get some memories back, remembers Oathgate Spren not terribly far from here by physical realm measurements, guarding a hidden human city

the stone remembers the way the radiants once traveled.

The path to a kingdom in the sky is slow — there are many cages to break on the way.

Kaladin doesn't know it right away, because people weren't exactly telling slaves about the freedom riots, but slave wagons start having harder and harder times reaching the shattered planes after him.

Someone mocks Lirin for having a wife so determined to pursue the masculine art of war. Lirin gets pissy and decides to show them by learning to read and write to help support the administrative side of his wife's kingdom wide asskicking.

The highprinces lead a fairly successful misinformation campaign about the slave riots, lots of accusations of rampant violence, the dregs of society lashing out, you can probably imagine

The ongoing rebellion is large enough that word trickles to the bridge crews, encouraging bridge four's hope for escaping, while also making it substantially more daunting, as the crews are even better guarded than canon.

Rumors of a female radiant swirl around. Most people assume it's a woman in shardplate with some sort of tunneling fabrial, which is still pretty crazy, but several major players Take Note

A very large and tired huddled mass of people reach Urithiru. there's just enough squires, and two new willshapers with their own oaths, to make tunnels through the shattered planes and reach the oathgate without being seen by the alethi armies

the parshendi army is another story, but some are willing to take a chance listening to the neshua kadal, and come with them.

The political implications of Dalinar freeing 1000 slaves is slightly more complex, especially considering the rebellions have been impacting Sadeas the hardest

About a week after being freed, Kaladin hires a spanreed intermediary to write home and find out if his hometown is alright (again, a lot of misinformation and rumors about the violence of the riots)

Is informed by Laral that his family left town looking for him shortly before the riots started, were presumed dead

Kaladin is under the impression that 1) his parents are dead because of him 2) the Rebellion is not the righteous fallback plan that he and the men were hoping it was.

Hesina has many reasons to go to the shattered planes. Nearest part of the trade network for food and necessary goods. Many slaves to be freed from there, and a part of her still hopes to find her son, even thought its been so long. Home of Alethkar's political leaders, the source of Alethkar's slavery.

I have spent. A LOT of time imagining many possible reunions between kaladin and his mom in my highly specific high oath hesenia au. She has a couple faces she could wear when visiting the planes. Brightlady. Radiant. Cagebreaker. Queen of Urithiru (not her real title, they're tentatively trying the Listener council model, but they know what the Alethi will understand). Even darkeyed mother, if she and Lirin approach slowly from a different direction. Honestly, pleased as I am with all of the above, a lot is flexible, the key here is kaladin going "MOM??" In some fashion One possible Reunion Here

Thank you @sorchasolas for conversation and the urithiru ideas and for leading me to actually write all this down <3

#stormlight archive #my au #stormlight au no 2 #hesina cagebreaker #the stormlight archive #stormlight au #Hesina willshaper au #ok for the growing taller thing: hear me out!#like she's a tall woman #she can reach the crem on most rooftops with her crempick #like 95 percent of the rooftops #and that 5 percent of rooftops that she can't quite reach she always forgets to bring a stepstool #so she's a tall woman. but her Identity is that of an even taller woman.#do you see my vision #Lirin leaves to bring her the little stepstool because she always forgets when she's hired to clear the baker's building.#but she doesn't need it #he had noticed...but he had honestly just assumed he had gotten shorter. musculoskeletal atrophy happens to men of a certain age.#he's on the younger side but the heralds know it's been a difficult few years. he didn't bring it up but neither did his wife #now he's looking at his wife and is:#Lirin: I am certain you needed a ladder to reach this roof before #Hesina: I did? Are you sure?#Lirin: yes I'm sure you always—Hesina!#Hesina: what?#Lirin: i am. CONFIDENT. that for the last 20 years my eyes have been level with your chin.#Lirin: not your...#Hesina: not my...?#Lirin:#Hesina:#and then they go bone #ok i'm done thank you for listening <3

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coffee-in-that-nebula · 4 months

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40 Romantic Dialogue Prompts for Valentine's Day

Hey, guys! I created a list of 40 romantic dialogue prompts for Valentine's day - some of them are angsty and others are more fluffy and light-hearted. Anyway, I hope they inspire you or help you with some story of yours! Feel free to use them! ❤️

“You’ll come back. And I’ll be here.”

“Stop fighting this - us. Just let me love you. Just let me exist by your side.”

“I just want to figure you out. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”

“You might break my heart, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

“One last time with you. I’m not asking for anything else.”

“What past? I’m here for our future.”

“I want to trust you - but I can’t. But I should - or I shouldn’t?”

“I know it sounds insane, but I can feel it when you think of me.”

“I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you!”

“This doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

“Give me another chance to make things right.”

“I promised to keep you safe, and I kept my promise. I’m done here.”

“Yes, it’s a mess but it’s our mess. We’re the only ones who can fix it.”

“This doesn’t feel right, but it doesn’t feel wrong either.”

“What does forever mean anyway? I’m here today. Why isn’t that enough?”

“I’m ready to die with you.”

“You meant the world to me. You still do.”

"The thing is that I don’t feel loved by you. You better prove it!”

“Do you believe in soulmates? Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“Could you ever imagine that we’d end up like this?”

“I’m not sick of loving you. I’m sick of you not loving me.”

“You are my love. You are my home. You are everything.”

“This is not the end. See you later, my love.”

“I’m not worried. I always find my way to you - in any time, in any reality.”

“I’m angry because I know we won’t ever be.”

“You make me fall apart so easily.”

“Sharing a bed with you sounds like a silly story trope, doesn’t it?”

“Just promise me that you’ll come back when you’re done.”

“I know we just met but I feel like the two of us could get in some serious trouble.”

“Can you stop stealing my blanket?”

“I can’t wait to dream about you tonight.”

“You’re right. I should have told you that I fell in love with you.”

“I would choose you again - in a heartbeat.”

“Thanks for making my life a little less miserable.”

“I’m such a fool for you. I’m your fool.”

“You look at me like I’m your universe.”

“You are never going to let me go, are you?”

“Let’s be whatever we want to be.”

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

#writing prompts #writing prompt #valentines prompts #dialogue prompt #dialogue ideas #romantic prompts #creative writing #fanfic writing #fanfic prompt #angst #fluff

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mylovelies-docx · 10 months

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Sorry, I Love You - Part 9

Oh wow, a new chapter? Who'd have thunk it.

My posting schedule is all off and I honestly don't know if I can get it back under control. I have no idea when I'll get time to sit down and write and when inspiration will strike, so I can't assure weekly updates. But I'll try my hardest to get this story out! I have future chapters written, it's just that I have no way of connecting them right now :/ Oops.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Ah shit, here we go again. Angst, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 2,250

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8]

Some moments are easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you’re not pining like a love-sick teenager enough to think that you can actually do this – you can actually be friends with the man you love.

But then there are moments like tonight.

A few weeks have passed since community get-together, and you and Bucky are the new kids in town. Everyone drops by to say hello, leave you with enough food to last the winter, and invite you both back to their homes for dinner. It’s all very sweet, and you would appreciate the hospitality in any other situation.

But the amount of mothers trying to marry their daughters off to Bucky is insane.

Several have not-so-subtley seated Bucky next to daughters of marriageable age, while everyone else is silently discouraged from interrupting their conversations. It skeezes you out when the girls are barely out of their teens, but most of the girls are around your age or older. Morality-wise, that’s a whole lot more appropriate. Internal monologue-wise, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doesn’t even begin to cover it. What you feel whenever he laughs at something they say, or looks at them with his intense blue eyes – it hurts. That’s how he used to look at you, once upon a time. Like his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it, like you’re one of the most important people in his world.

To be fair to Bucky, you probably read waaaay more into it than he ever meant. And you only ever really saw that look come out when you were straddling his waist and grinding hard on his cock, skin mottled with his teeth marks and wearing his metal hand as a necklace.

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Anyway,

You’re usually placed next to older, widowed relatives, as most of the young men in the town have already settled down and popped out a few kids with their spouses except for Petre. Tessa foists the two of you together at every possible opportunity, hoping you’ll hit it off and decide to get married in the near future.

Petre is nice, smart, cute, but not really your type. You’re convinced that you’ve only ever had one type and he’s off-limits. But Petre’s company is much more enjoyable than the sad, lonely older men they try to pair you with – it never feels great to be compared to someone’s long lost love – so you don’t mind having someone around your age to talk during these things.

Speaking of.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” Petre comments. The night is warmer than expected, but you and Petre are still bundled up in your coats as you stroll through the dead copse of trees near the latest dinner party. The sun had set only minutes ago and the stars are making their presence known. There’s next to no light pollution in this area, so you always take the time to admire the night sky when you have the chance.

You often take walks with Bucky up and down your street as a way to decompress after your shifts at the HYDRA facility. After the first week or so of being everyone’s errand-runner, they’ve slowly built up your workload to include calculations and deductions based on redacted data – it’s not as much information as you’d like, but it’s enough to build a foundational understanding of what the experiment was about.

You hum in agreement and continue walking. It’s about time to turn around and head back, but you can’t bring yourself to return only to watch Bucky flirt with the pretty girls that were also invited.

“Is something the matter?” Petre asks you.

You startle out of your petty, jealous thoughts. “Hm? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s just that you seem very distracted tonight,” he responds.

With your hands in your pocket, the only thing you can do is shrug your shoulders. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” Petre commiserates.

All of the sudden, a wailing, piercing shriek ricochets between the tree trunks and reverberates in your ears. Tensing with adrenaline, you take two steps forward, ready to intervene in whatever events are unfolding in the darkness.

Before you get much further, Petre reaches out and takes hold of your elbow. Turning you around, he starts leading the way back. You try to tug your arm from his grip, but he holds firm.

“The cry of a vixen who is looking to mate. They’re rather vicious creatures this time of year, foxes. We don’t want to get in her way,” Petre deters.

“But…” you begin, looking back over your shoulders and watching for unexpected movement among the swaying branches. “It sounds so real.”

“Terrifying, really. I was just as concerned when they began, as well.” Petre gives you a tight smile and relaxes his grip slightly when you stop trying to pull away.

“What do you mean?” you question.

“What?” Petre’s eyes flash around quickly, looking through the woods that surround you.

“‘When they began’. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah,” Petre replies. “When mating season began.”

There’s no more discussion on the eerily accurate sound of a woman in distress. You can only trust that Petre would know the local fauna and their habits better than you, since you’ve never spent an extended period of time in areas such as this.

***

The neighbor’s house finally comes into view. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the porch as they lean against the railings, their arms braced against the banister and posture rigid. When you get closer, you realize that the figure is Bucky.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you. And apparently Petre can as well.

“He doesn’t like me?” Petre asks.

“Why do you say that?” The question puzzles you because Bucky has no reason to dislike Petre. He’s been incredibly helpful so far, allowing you to ask as many questions as you want about himself and others and he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, you feel as if you and Petre have become friends.

“It just seems like he’s never happy to see me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that – James just has RBF,” you reply nonchalantly.

“RBF?” Petre replies.

You laugh as you and Petre climb the stairs, only now realizing that he still has a hand on your arm. You’d forgotten all about it, but you miss the slight warmth that permeated through your jacket when he removes his touch. You turn to look at him, but Petre is looking away, his hands now deep in his pockets. Turning your focus onto Bucky, you see him watching Petre, his eyes squinted.

A large smile returns to your face as you reach up and grab Bucky’s chin, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker from the pressure. “This –” you say triumphantly, “is an RBF.”

Bucky glares down at you and swats your hand away. You cackle at the perfect example of Resting Bitch Face™ in front of you, throwing your head back in joy. When you right your posture again, you can see a small smile on Bucky’s face as he laughs along with you.

“Whatever,” he murmurs. He shakes his head in exasperation before circling his arm around your shoulders. Bucky begins dragging you back down the steps you had just ascended and you grunt in protest. “It’s time to go,” he says simply.

“Ugh, you’re so rude,” you say to him. Craning your neck as much as possible, you look back towards Petre who remains on the porch. “I’ll see you later!” you call backwards with a wave. Petre raises a hand in return, face hidden in shadow as Bucky’s had been.

Focusing back on the road in front of you, you can practically feel what little mirth Bucky had drains away. Looking up, you notice that his jaw is clenched and a hard look has entered his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Now you’re worried that something happened to Bucky while you were gone that has put him in a bad mood. Did someone say something to him? Did one of the women reject his advances? You can’t see who in their right mind would turn him down, but not everyone feels the same way about him as you do. But if it’s the latter, the guilt you feel only slightly outweighs the relief.

“You don’t think you’re spendin’ too much time with him?” Bucky says between clenched teeth.

A frown appears between your eyebrows as you continue to look up at him. “No?” you respond. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Ofcoursehedoesn’t,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You slide out from under Bucky’s hold, his agitation sparking flames of your own. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t think you’re leadin’ him on a bit, Y/N?” Bucky asks you.

You scoff. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re always hangin’ around him!” Bucky quips back. “You’re flirting with him and walking out of parties together. All these people, Petre included, are going to think you’re pitching for an engagement.”

The hurt and pitiful feelings from earlier tonight come flooding back. Only this time, instead of feeling them for what they are, you combine them with the anger his comment brings. How dare he accuse you of leading Petre on? As if he isn’t doing the same thing to all those girls?!

“And what about you?!” you yell, the last word ripping its way between your lips and setting your tongue ablaze. “You don’t think you’re stringing all these girls along behind you? You don’t have any intention of getting into a relationship with any of them, either, do you?”

As the words escape, you remember how Bucky sat you down and asked for a friends-with-benefits situation. Said he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but tired of one night stands. How the two of you could help each other out since you weren’t seeing anyone either. The old resentment towards yourself and how you let yourself fall for someone wholly unavailable whiplashes back into your mind after months of repressing it.

If he could ask that of you, does that mean he’s asked someone else? You usually arrive home later than him, but on some occasions that you are released early, he’s not there. Instead of asking where he’s been, you had just let it slide since it could have been construed as possessiveness. Like your feelings – that Bucky believes to be long gone – entitle you to his life. You hadn’t wanted to risk anything at the time, but now your mind can’t help running wild at the possibilities.

“It’s not like I’m screwing his brains out every time we’re gone!” You shout at Bucky. You had been walking down the road away from the house party which was on a street with few homes, so there’s nobody around to hear your fight. “We’re not in the bathrooms having quickies, he’s not fucking me against a wall, or bending me over his motorcycle! He hasn’t proposed we fuck around with each other until someone better comes along!”

Your chest heaves with the effort of expelling these vicious words from deep within your heart, and you can feel a burning beginning to creep behind your eyes. You hate getting angry – hate that any strong emotion makes your eyes well with tears and makes you look weak. And in this situation, you are weak – weak against Bucky, weak against yourself, weak against the knowledge that the one man you’ve ever loved never felt the same way and never will. Your inability to keep yourself from falling for someone you knew you could never have? Your jealousy that he is probably sleeping with one or more of the women in town? That makes you weak.

And you can’t stand to be weak in front of Bucky again.

“Newsflash, Buck: I know how it feels to be lead on by you and it fucking sucks!” You lower your voice slightly and take another step away from him. “I know that wasn’t your intention, and I didn’t feel that way at first, but that’s how I feel now.”

“You were my best friend, Y/N – I didn’t want to lose that!” Bucky exclaims. “And I genuinely thought we were on the same page!” He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands over his eyes before saying, “And seeing you run off with Petre all the time just reminds me of us – how we’d always sneak away to get some time alone. It’s just –” He drops his hands and sighs heavily, looking up at the star-studded sky and then back down to you. “I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous?” You ask incredulously. “Why?”

“Because –” You can tell that he’s struggling to get this out, and if he hadn’t started this argument and accused you of wronging Petre, you might have been more receptive to what he’s saying. More understanding. But right now, your anger swallows all empathy and hope that his words would usually supply. “Because that could have been us,” he breathes. Bucky takes a tentative step in your direction, but freezes solid at the icy glare you send his way.

“No,” you say flatly, “No, it couldn’t have. You made that abundantly clear when I asked.”

You turn your back on him and start running, ignoring the sound of your name as you leave Bucky behind.

Part 10

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewifeife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshinee @happinessinthebeingg @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

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siriusleee · 9 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 5

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, fingering, wedding dress shopping

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Much shorter chapter here for you guys - I just couldn't get anything else out for this one. The characters were not charactering. That's not true, they want to get ahead to the better parts. Anyway, as of last time - I'm not adding anyone else to the tag list. If you'd like to be made away of updates, turn on the notifications here on tumblr or follow me on ko-fi. If you'd like to donate, that will always be appreciated as writing is technically my nice unpaid second job.

find the other chapters here at my masterlist.

You wake before Simon; you can see the sunlight threatening the purple morning outside. Dark shadows argue with the light that tries to slip in around the heavy curtains and shutters. Simon is so warm pressed up against your back, one arm slung over your shoulder and the other underneath your head. It's so warm under the blanket that it's almost stifling - you stretch to try to get some measure of cold air, but Simon's hand moves to keep you in place, rough fingers causing gooseflesh to erupt across your skin.

"Stop moving," Simon breathes against your neck, voice thick with the early morning. His breath is warm and wet against the shell of your ear, causing your hair to flutter and tickle your temple.

You shift again, trying to get yourself back to a position you relax in; Simon's hand grabs your hips instead and holds them still, fingers nearly bruising in the tender skin. It feels like his hand is burning you, and a flame starts to slowly lick up your skin.

"I need you to be still, my love."

His voice reverberates through his chest and into yours; you can feel the soreness from the night before between your legs, a type of sore you've never felt before. But that doesn't stop your stomach from fluttering at the feeling of Simon's rough hands tracing soft and slow patterns at your hip, at the warning in his voice; his fingers dip dangerously low on your stomach.

He hits a ticklish spot and you jerk back, rubbing yourself against him. He's hard against your backside; he grinds into you with a gasp like he can't control himself, and you hope he can't. The hand on your hip slides down the back of your thigh, pushing until your legs separate and you're facedown on the bed. Simon shifts so that he's just hovering above you, chest still pressed against your back. One finger teases your entrance, you push your hips back - face burning at the feeling of your body responding to his touch without your thought.

You didn't know it would be like this - the intense want that consumes you, and makes your body move against your own will.

It stings when he presses one finger into you; Simon moves slowly inside of you - stretching you back out. Hissing against the pain you've never experienced before you squirm, but Simon traced one soothing hand down your back.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He presses a kiss to your spine, tongue tracing the contours of your skin.

"No - it's just -"

He hits a spot inside of you that cuts off your breathing; you arch backwards into him, mewling pathetically into the mattress. Simon chuckles, repositioning himself so that he's straddling you. It still stings, but slowly it gives way to something else.

He works you until you're dripping down his wrist before pulling your hips up a few inches. His length presses into you - hot and heavy. You grind down against him, the wetness of you smooth against his velvet skin; his hands still you.

"Keep your head down, love."

He still doesn't want you to see his scarred face; to see the mark that he thinks regulates him to a life of being alone. You want to press the issue - you want to see his face so desperately, but when he slides his tip up and down your wet slit the thought is pushed from your mind.

"What do you want, love?"

You try to press back, to show him what you want, but he pulls back enough that you can't reach him.

"Say it love."

You can't - the heat creeping through your body keeps your mouth shut; Simon's hands ghost up your thighs, your backside, the curve of your hip. But he doesn't move forward to meet you.

"Please Simon."

"Please what? Don't be shy; I'm not going to judge you."

His voice is quietly smug - a tone you've never heard from him before, but it soothes you nonetheless. Through the embarrassment that swaths around you, you bite the words out.

"Please make love to me Simon."

And he does.

It's different from the night before - slow, but not like he's scared to hurt you. Not like the night before when he thought you would shatter beneath his very touch.

This time it's like he's trying to memorize the way you feel, the way you grip around him. He takes his time bottoming out inside of you; when he does he folds himself over you, pressing kisses to the base of your neck - your shoulder - everywhere he can reach. He's shaking against your back, struggling to keep himself together. The thought makes you grip the pillow white knuckled.

He's so deep inside of you all you can feel is him; when he starts to move you find yourself babbling nonsense. He's everywhere inside of you, and you try to tell him how it feels, but you're not sure that you're making sense. You reach behind you, trying to find some grip to pull Simon closer to you. He wraps one hand around your wrist and uses it to leverage himself deeper, to push you so that you arch more.

He wants to go faster - you can feel it in the way he grabs your wrist, in the way the muscles in his arm bunch as they come down beside your face to brace himself. But he's scared of hurting you. You want to urge him to go faster, to go harder, but you know he won't, so worried that whatever he'll do will hurt you.

When you finish, clenched around him, his hips stutter, snapping against yours hard enough to sting until he pulls out quickly. Like the night before, you feel his heat on your skin. Neither of you move as you try to catch your breath until Simon pushes himself up.

"Stay there for a moment."

It's a command and a plea. Don't look at me. His weight shifts on the bed and he pads across the floor, wood creaking beneath his weight. A moment later something soft is wiping at the mess on your back. You shiver at the feeling, the air suddenly freezing.

"You can get up now." Simon's voice is quiet, almost shy. You push yourself up off the bed; he's pulled his clothes on, his mask pulled back down over his face. Your fingers remember the warmth of his skin, the way the scar on his face felt. You wonder what he would do if you tried to reach out and pull his mask off now.

He kneels down beside the bed, nearly eye level with you. One finger reaches out to intertwine itself in your hair. His eyes are soft, but pulled tight at the edges, worry starting to seep through.

"It's early. You should go home."

"I suppose I should. Although I don't think anyone will be looking for me this morning." His hands fall from your hair to your thigh, and you can't recognize the look in his eyes.

But you were wrong. Mother is sitting up in the dining room, so pale you'd mistake her as a specter in the nighttime. Your heart falls to your feet as you let the door shut behind you, hands trembling at the thought that she can smell Simon on you.

It feels like a flag waving above you: the night before. You're almost sure that if you were to study yourself long enough in the mirror you could see some sort of change, some string that tethered you to Simon all the way across the village. You had read once about red strings that connected two soul mates together. They could become twisted and tangled, but never torn in two.

You were sure there was one between you and Simon, and if Mother looked at you hard enough she'd be able to see it.

But she doesn't say anything about your disheveled hair or the messy way your dressed is laced in the front. Without looking at you, she swirls something inside her cup, and you have the sneaking suspicion that it's not coffee. When she drinks, it's long and deep, the cup slamming onto the table as if it weighs a thousand pounds. Her fingers trace the top, collecting a missed drop of whatever is inside before flicking it away.

"Go get cleaned up," she says finally without looking at you, "we have to go get your dress finished today."

Her voice is flat and devoid of anything that usually makes her sound like Mother. She had never been the softest woman in the world, but you'd always known her to have a special type of kindness, or what she thought was kindness. It scares you so much that you do what she says without thinking, feet stumbling up the staircase. You can still feel the warm stretch of Simon in between your legs, the way his hands had pressed your knees apart. It makes it difficult to walk up to the second flight.

By the time you've come back downstairs, hair damp and a fresh dress loose around you, Mother's glass is empty. But she still swirls it, as if waiting on someone else to fill it up. You wait quietly in the doorway of the kitchen, the minutes stretching on painfully. You're not sure how long it takes before she finally pushes herself heavily from the chair. It scrapes painfully against the floor.

Mother doesn't look at you as she sweeps past you, dress swirling angrily around her. Your cloak smells like fire smoke and Simon, a whiskey headyness that you know Mother catches a whiff of. She freezes when the cloak swirls around your body, the smell enveloping the both of you. But whatever thoughts come to her, she ignores. Above the two of you, you hear Lily's quiet footsteps patterning across the floor. The sound cuts through the empty house, and you wonder why she's not already downstairs beating about in the kitchen. She's never slept in a day in her life, and has never not been elbow deep in dough in the early mornings.

You and Mother don't speak on the way to the seamstress's shop, Mother walking ahead of you in her customary brisk pace. Around the two of you, the town starts to wake up. Window shutters slam open; in the distance the market starts to come to life.

It's morbid, the fact that all these people are moving on with their day in the same spots that destroyed your own just yesterday. But you try to ignore their sounds and focus on the soft swish of Mother's dress in front of you.

It's ice cold inside the seamstress shop. The fireplace stares emptily at you as you strip down, a silk underdress taking the place of the linen one you'd put on this morning. It takes all your balance to keep steady as what feels like pounds of petticoats are slipped over your head and cinched at your waist.

In the mirror, you watch as you begin to morph into a real bride. The seamstress pushes your hair up out of her way, pinning it in some amorphous rendition of bridal hair. The only sounds that escape you are the soft gasps as the laces on each layer are tightened incrementally.

But Mother doesn't speak: doesn't ask about alterations, doesn't mention the way the shoulders puff out. She doesn't loosen her iron stare at you from the lounge on the far wall.

And you're not sure you can say anything either. Watching the seamstress lace you up in between heavy layers of white ivory and lace you can't help but think about the night before, about a different wedding that could have happened in a different time. With each layer, you can only think more and more about what it would be like to meet Simon at the alter. What it would be like for him to be the one to strip each layer off of you.

Or would he instead push each layer up until he could reach you and fuck you in the entire dress.

By the time the dress is being slipped off of you, you're hyperventilating, a cold sweat pouring from your skin and sticking you to the underdress. The seamstress has to help you sit down, her gnarled fingers ice cold against your hot skin.

"It's an exciting day for many women," she says, trying to calm you down, "just breathe."

And you try to just breathe, but it feels like the plates of the Earth have shifted underneath you and knocked out any sense of stability you may have had. There may have been a point where you could have overcome the anger of being forced to marry, but after last night - after this morning - you knew there was no way you could ever stand the feeling of Jonathan, of anyone touching you.

You'd rather never be touched again.

Mother pays for the dress without a smile before wrapping her fingers so tight around your arm that you think you're going to lose feeling in your fingers from the pressure. She drags you through the door, not caring about the way you slam into the door frame, no doubt a bruise being left in its wake.

Outside people are milling about, and each one of them is polite enough to ignore the two of you, no doubt remembering the way Uncle Henry's head had rolled across the ground. You want someone to look up, to see the way Mother is practically dragging you through the dirt, but they ignore the two of you refusing to come within feet of the two of you.

She doesn't loosen her grip until the two of you are at the front gate; she drops your arm like you're something slimy and venomous; she wipes her hand on her bodice. You try to push past her, but she blocks your progress past her, hands reaching down to slam the gate shut. When she speaks, she refuses to look at you. She keeps her eyes focused on the front door.

"I hope whoever is lucky enough to receive your attention in such a black time is worth it."

"Mother it-"

"Shut up."

Her words draw you up short. She had never spoken so shortly; you had never heard her tell you or either of your sisters to shut up. In your entire life, you'd only heard her say it once - to a servant girl that had said something rude about Lily helping in the kitchen years ago. It had shocked you then, the way it shocked you now.

Her hands grip the wooden gate so hard you're almost surprised it doesn't shatter beneath her strength. It takes a great effort for her to breathe out, to speak again. The words are chopped short, clipped and angry.

"Jonathan will be home in a month. Like I told you before, I will not stop you from doing whatever it is you do at night. But I hope you know what you are doing - what is in store for you if you slip up."

She doesn't give you a chance to defend yourself before she leaves you at the gate, the front door slamming heavily behind her.

Tag List:

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii #like blood on iron

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atelierlili · 1 month

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It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation

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footballerimaginess · 9 months

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Fluff Alphabet | Trent Alexander Arnold

Here is my fluff alphabet, give it some love and feedback please. This takes me a long time to make, so will really appreciate the love on this fic. Let me know what players you want more fluff alphabets on. Word Count: 1,334 ANNIVERSARY - "Happy Anniversary" you smiled as you read the text and sighed also, knowing that you weren't with him today as he was in Europe. You were so upset but when a bunch of flowers arrived at your door, they instantly made your day even better.

BABIES - Whenever you saw a baby, you were so broody. You and Trent had always spoken about babies and how you would love children in the future. You knew he would be the most perfect father whenever you decided to have babies. When the time was ready of course. COFFEE - "We haven't had a coffee date in ages, come on" you smiled as you suggested to Trent as your eagle eye saw a starbucks in the distance and you knew you needed an iced coffee. "You are the worst, anytime we drive past one you need one" you smirked. "Alright, guess you aren't getting one" you laughed as Trent's brow furrowed. "Well we are here now, so I suppose" he teased. DATE NIGHT - Date nights were rare when you dated a footballer, but Trent always had the best ideas for what you did on date night. It was always so special because he put so much effort into your dates it meant so much to you. EXPLORE - One of your favourite things to do was exploring new places, it had been one thing you loved to do. There was so much on this list that you'd both wanted to explore and made sure it was your mission to do so. FLOWERS - One of Trent's ways of showing love was buying you flowers, not really having a reason behind why he got them. But they were always so beautiful whenever he bought them back or got them delivered whenever he wasn't here due to football. He always knew how to brighten up your day even when he wasn't here. GAMES - You loved going to games, whether it was England or Liverpool, you love going to away games on your own and being in the middle of the crowd. It just felt so special supporting your man. HOLIDAY - Holidays were one and the only time seeing Trent in the summer, he always made sure that you would do a lot to try and make up for how much time you missed when the season was happening. You were so excited to spend time with him and having ICKS - The one thing you hated about Trent and was one of your few icks in the relationship. "If you slurp that drink one more time, that straw may be leading somewhere fucking else" you gritted your teeth as he coughed, your comments taking him by surprise. "Woah okay okay" he holds his hands up before gently pushing the glass away from him. JUMPER - "Have you stolen one of my jumpers again? I can't find it anywhere" you turned around as you spoke to him as you had the jumper on. "Oh so you do have it, good job I love you because this is taking the piss now. I love that jumper" he asked you sternly with a straight face. "Well you're not having it back now" you shrugged. KITTEN - You had told Trent that you had wanted a pet, desperately. So when Trent came home with a huge box, you were confused as he placed it in front of you. "Open it" you smiled as you opened the box to reveal the cutest black and white kitten. "Oh my gosh, she is so cute" you whispered as you placed your cat on your chest. LIVERPOOL - You were the biggest football fan before you started dating Trent, so when you would go to games you were just so excited anyway to watch him at Anfield and travelling around the UK and Europe watching the team play. MEETING - You and Trent met at a bar as you walked straight into him, say it was love at first sight. In your mind obviously, not Trent's. But you were too shy to say anything when you bumped into him. But you gradually worked your way over to talk to him more and more. NAME - "So when are you going to be y/n alexander arnold?" the boys asked as you blushed. "I dunno, one day i hope" you shrugged as you watched Trent's facial expression. "Guess you'll just have to wait, gotta keep you on your toes" you laughed as the boys all smirked. "So much love from you there Trent" he laughed. OCEAN - "Come swim with me" you shouted to Trent who was laying on the beach whilst you were standing in the ocean which was looking so beautiful. "You go, it looks so pretty" Trent smiled, shouting away as the beach was so quiet as it was still pretty early.

PAMPER NIGHT - You and Trent were having a pamper night, phones were off (not even allowed to do a sneaky photo for social media because Trent would kill you within seconds that was uploaded). Face masks were always your favourite especially when you had a full collection of them on hand. QUESTION - When Trent popped the question, you thought he was joking when you were on a beach on holiday one summer. You were so shocked when he opened the ring box, taking you completely by surprise. Saying yes of course as you jumped straight onto him as you looked at the ring and grabbed him as tightly as you could. RAIN - Of course the British weather being as awful as it is as always, you stupidly decide to go out for a walk which meant the heavens opened as it usually would. You were absolutely soaked as you ran as fast as you could in the rain. SUNSHINE - You were laying in the sunshine as it hit down onto your chest as hot as he could be. "I could get used to this heat, it feels so glorious. It is a shame that we don't get this weather in England. But it seems lovely" he mumbled as he barely raised a look up as he was enjoying the sunshine.

TRENT - Life with Trent was amazing, working your job was something special you loved working on your photography and getting to do it within football was amazing also. You knew you were so happy with Trent and couldn't wait to experience more life with him. UNDER THE STARS - You and Trent were laying under the stars in your garden, watching the night sky. "I love this, with you" you smiled as you rolled over to talk to him closely. "Me too" Trent whispered gently as he stroked your hair. VICE CAPTAIN - You were so proud of him when he told you that he was becoming vice captain. This was huge for him, especially as he has been at the club for so long. When Trent posted it on his instagram, you were so proud of him and all the fans were too which especially warmed your heart. WEDDING - The wedding wasn't for a while. but you were planning it all and had been for months. It had been a crazy few months, Trent was convinced that you were slowly turning into bridezilla. "We've had so many deliveries, how many things have you got. We are only having one day" you laughed as he was right. But you wanted it to be special. X - The kisses he left you whenever he texted you were always adorable, he was just so cute. YELLOW - "That dress is so beautiful on you, yellow is your colour. Ready" he smiled as he laced your hand in his hand as you headed to the car. You were going to the award ceremony Zzzz - You and Trent were having a lazy day on the sofa after Trent had been having a busy week of training and a midweek European game. All he wanted to do was have a chilled day, laying on the sofa snoozing in and out of sleep.

#hayleysfluffalphabet #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagine #football imagines #football imagine #football one shots #football one shot #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #football x reader

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asmutwriter · 7 months

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The Gangsta's Wife (Part 3)

DESCRIPTION: The Shelby's have started to welcome you slowly into the family and start to show you how the business works but things take a dark turn.

A/N: I am hoping to write a lot more over the upcoming weeks of the various stories I'm writing. However I am not sure when I will be able to write them or post them. I will try and do it as often as possible.

WORD COUNT: 2418

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, threatening of violence, mildy toxic relationship

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story will not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.

You sit in the gambling shop. Waiting for the rest of the family to show up. Arthur and John walk in, their cheery mood cut short as they see you. "What are you doing here?" Arthur says.

"I was asked to join this meeting by Mr Shelby"

"You aren't part of this family. And this is a family meeting. So get the fuck out"

"She won't do that" Tommy says as he walks into the room. "She is my wife and therefore a member of the family. So she should get a say in how we run our business. Understood?" he looks at his brothers who stay silent. The lack of an answer being enough for him apparently "good. Now we just wait for Pol". As if on cue she walks through. The soft smile on her face dropping as she walks into the room, seeing you.

"Why is she here?"

"Because she's family" Thomas says. She looks at him. A silent look being exchanged between the two of them before he keeps talking "I had a discussion with her last night and she says she wants to be a part of this business. So Florence will be joining us for future meetings. If you have a problem with that then you can talk to me about it afterwards" he looks at everyone in the room before he talks again.

"Our first matter is about Harry Thompson. He has been bribing our men. He has a lot of money and power so has been able to take some of our good men. Making them fight for him and not for us. Arthur, John, and myself are meeting with him later today. We are going to negotiate with him to leave Birmingham"

He takes out a cigarette, lighting it and quickly puffing on it before speaking again. "The second matter is regards to our money. I've had to relocate it due to someone deciding to take a large sum of it. I'm working on finding out who and I will deal with them when the time comes. But I trust everyone in this room to know that I have moved it to a safe in the Garrison". He takes another puff of his smoke "would anyone like to add anything else?". Soft no's being heard around the room.

"If that's everything then we should be going. Arthur. John" he heads out the room. His brothers following him. As the door shuts you go to head out as well. Polly walks in front of you, facing you as you stop in your tracks. The fun and friendly atmosphere (the small amount of it anyway) changing in a heartbeat as she keeps her eyes on yours.

"What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?" you hear the front door shut. Knowing its just you and your aunt-in-law remaining in the house.

"We both know that I told Thomas about you eavesdropping on him. Yet now you've worked your way into the family meeting. I want to know what you did to him" you stay silent. Eyes on hers as she gives you a glare very similar to that of your husbands.

"We did have a discussion. We talked about the situation that you brought up to him. It's sorted now. I simply told him the truth"

"About the rats?" she scoffs before you can answer "Only an idiot would take that story of rats in walls and all that crap. I'm not an idiot Florence. I know you're up to something"

"I'm not up to anything Miss Gray. He asked me for the truth and I gave it to him. He is my husband, I have no intentions to lie to him. If he asks me for the truth I'll give him the truth. It doesn't give me any benefits to lie to him" she comes close to you, pulling a long needle from her hair as she holds it close to your throat. Feeling the end of it nipping at your neck. You tense every muscle in your body as to not flinch away. Clenching your fists in an effort to stop them shaking.

"I don't know what kind of spell you've put Tommy under but I will break it. He will see the manipulation you've put onto him. Then I'll sit back and watch with pleasure as he breaks you". Although you felt a fear in your body you maintained eye contact with her as you manage to keep your composure. A few beats of silence before she moves the needle away. Placing it back into her hair as she straightens out her jacket before walking out of the room. Letting out a breath you weren't aware that you were holding.

You go back to your house. Going inside you shut your eyes. Back pressed against the door as you let the full fear finally catch up to you. Taking a few deep breaths before opening your eyes again. Feeling tears pricking at them as you straighten out your dress. Hands shaking over the soft material. One day you'll be able to be in this family and not have your life threatened by one of them. Pushing your hair behind your ears.

You look at the small table in your hallway. A letter adressed to you written onto it. You pick it up, recognising the handwriting you open it quickly.

'Dear Florence,

I am celebrating my 40th birthday party this weekend at my house up in London. I would love if you could join. Feel free to bring any plus one that you have. Come on the Saturday morning and stay the night. I hope to see you then.

Your friend,

Vanessa Smith'

You smile at the kind words. Folding the letter and placing it back into the envelope. Not realising how much you needed a friendly note. You went upstairs and placed it onto your bedside table.

You spent the day doing your house hold chores. Cleaning, cooking, so on and so on. So when you'd put the girls to bed you retired yourself. Grabbing a cup of tea and a book as you do some light reading in the comfort of your bed after a busy day of house work. The door opens to your bedroom, an obvious attempt to be quiet as its slowly opened. You look at the doorway, seeing Thomas walking in. You go slightly tense as you see him. You hadn't seen him since this morning so you were still slightly tense from the interaction you had with him and his family. But you try and hide it quickly by smiling sweetly at him. He shuts the door behind him, turning to look at you.

"Did I wake you?" you shake your head

"No I was reading"

"At this late hour?" you tilt your head slightly, a soft frown on your brow as he looks at his pocket watch "its nearly two in the morning"

"Fuck" you let out a soft laugh as you look away from him. "I wondered why I was tired". He starts to disrobe as you continue speaking "how did the meeting with Mr Thompson go?".

"It went well" you nod slightly. Moving a few items from your bedside table to make room for your book. He starts to unbutton his shirt "who's the letter from?"

"Oh" you look at the envelop in your hand then back at him "its just from my friend up in London. She's having a party but I probably wont go". He undoes the last button of his shirt, keeping the fabric over his shoulders as he reaches a hand forward

"May I read it?". Although he asks it as a question, and although you know you have every right to say no, you obediently hand him over the envelope. Wanting to show him that you have nothing to hide and that you will be truthful with him. He takes it out, reading the letter quickly. A flash of emotion going through his eyes as he reads the paper. "Why weren't you going?"

"Its' a full weekend and I wouldn't like to leave my sisters for that long. Plus its a long way to go by myself" he nods. Placing the paper back into the envelope before handing it back to you.

"I think we should go"

"We?"

"Yes. We are married and it says that you can bring a plus one. It makes the most sense to take your husband. How about it, eh?"

"I can't leave Elizabeth and Mary for that long. I-"

"John and Arthur will be here to look after them. Make sure they stay out of trouble" you scoff slightly, causing him to give you a look of confusion

"All do respect to your brothers but they're the likeliest to get them into trouble". A smile ghosts his lips as he nods

"I agree with you on that one" he thinks for a moment "I'll ask Ada to come over. She can help run my businesses whilst I'm away, plus she can keep an eye on yor sisters for you. Would that be better for you?". You bite at your bottom lip

"I wouldn't want to be any trouble to her. If its an inconvenience for her then I'd rather just not go" he nods slightly as he takes his shirt off fully, placing it over the chair in the room. He has his back to you as he undoes his trousers

"I'll ask her tomorrow. See what she says"

It was Saturday morning. Thomas had asked his sister a few days ago to which she had said yes. To be honest, you were hoping she'd say no. But here she was, Thomas telling her everything that she needed to know the day you were meant to be going. You did feel a lot happier leaving your sisters and house with Ada in charge, but that doesn't mean you were overly excited about leaving as a whole. Your sister in law seeming to see this, coming over to you and taking your hands in hers after you've placed your belongings into the back of the car.

"I promise that I will look after your sisters. I did last time you went away" she smiles softly at you as you nod. Gripping her hands tightly before letting go.

"Thank you Miss Thorne" she keeps her smile soft as you let go of her hands, tucking your hair behind your ears as you then bite at your thumb.

"Have you got everything you need?" she asks. You nod in response, motioning at a trunk in the back of the car

"Got a nice outfit for both me and Mr Shelby for when we get there, then a normal yet fancy outfit for Sunday when we drive back" she nods as you straighten out your dress "I should go and say goodbye to Lizzie and Mary. Excuse me" you go inside, poking your head into the living room. "Girls?" They both turn to face you, the older not looking at you as she folds her arms over her torso. Mary speaks up

"Do you have to go?" you nod, going over and kneeling in front of them

"I'm sorry girls. But you'll have a great time with Miss Thorne. Do as she asks ok? Please?" Mary nods. You look at Lizzie, who feels your eyes on her. Giving a very, very slight nod. You smile, a sadness in your eyes as you hug them both. "I love you two. So very much. I'll see you on Sunday, ok?" more nodding as they hug you back. Well, the younger does. The older keeps her arms folded as you force the affection onto her. You move away from them, smiling as you stand up. Going back out to the car you say goodbye to Ada who is still waiting. Getting into the car next to Tommy as he starts driving.

You arrive at your destination. A man comes over to your car after you park "any luggage?" you nod, motioning behind you and into the car. He nods, grabbing your bags "please follow me". You get out the car, following behind the man as Thomas stands next to you. Taking in the ornate building in front of you. You get to the entry way of the house. "If you'd like to follow me down this way, your rooms are on the first floor" you go to follow just as you hear a voice speaking.

"I don't believe it. Florence?" you turn, seeing your friend walking down the staircase. She nearly runs as she comes over and hugs you. You hug her back "You actually came". She moves away from the hug, holding your face between her palms as she looks at you, causing you to smile. She drops your face as she sees Thomas, her smile not faltering as she looks at him "and who is this?". He holds his hand out for her to shake

"Thomas Shelby. Florence's husband". Her smiles wavers marginally at the name. But she takes his hand, shaking it.

"Vanessa Smith". She looks at you as she drops his hand "You didn't tell me you got married?" she looks at you

"Its a recent thing, only happened a few months ago" she nods slightly, looking at the man as he keeps his eyes on her. "When are your other guests arriving?" you ask

"Some are already here. They are in the living room" she holds her hand out for you to take "I must show you your room for the weekend though". You take both her hands as she leads you to your room. Thomas following behind. Going into the bedroom you beam as you look around

"Its beautiful" you whisper. Going over to the wooden furniture, running your hand over the delicate features.

"I will leave you two alone. Guests are arriving at 2 so you have a couple of hours before then" she smiles "please come join me once you've settled" she turns, walking out the door and shutting it behind her. You hear the tapping of her heels on the floor outside. You go over to your bags, opening it and rummaging through. Finding your perfume you spray some of it onto your wrists and neck. Placing it back into your bag before turning to Thomas

"We should go and see them Mr Shelby" he nods, holding his arm out for you to take. Which you do.

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin

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absurdthirst · 1 year

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In the Cards {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.9k

Warnings: Tarot cards, fortune telling, Dieter being an idiot, flirting, betting on sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral sex (male and female receiving), angst, groveling

Comments: Dieter has a psychic that predicts that his soulmate will ruin him. So he decides that he never wants to have anything to do with them. Until he meets you and doesn't know who you are.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter eagerly watches the psychic as she reads his tarot cards. He was bored and decided to get his assistant to bring him a psychic, to see what his future holds. Maybe another Oscar. The older woman hums as she stares at the cards. “You are very successful.” She murmurs and Dieter rolls his eyes, “duh.”

He points at himself and she lifts her gaze to him. “I won a fucking Oscar.” He tuts and fidgets in his seat.

“You are a very lucky man, Mr. Bravo. You will meet your soulmate soon.” She clicks her tongue as she points at the card.

Instinctively, Dieter’s fingers find the edge of his numerous bracelets on his wrists. It’s probably the one mark on his body that he hides, aware that the entire world has seen all of his tattoos, but this is a mark he’s had since birth. His soulmate mark. The one that his soulmate will have perfectly matched, just like they are to him. “What are they like?” He demands, leaning forward and praying they like sex. They have to.

The woman smiles at him, “she will be everything you’ve ever wanted. She will also ruin you.” She warns, pointing at the corresponding card. “She will be your salvation and your damnation.”

“Ruin me?” Dieter’s eyes widen in alarm as he rears back in his seat. “How will she ruin me?” He demands, even surprised that his soulmate is a woman. He’s wondered but he’s just always assumed that he would be fine with anyone. He wasn’t really keen on kids anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with me, my life is great!” He huffs, eyes anxious as he leans forward again. “How will she ruin me?” This time his question is nervous, unsure and he’s shaking his leg under the table.

“I do not have all the answers, Mr. Bravo. I am simply reading the cards. You are lucky, not everyone finds their soulmate during this life. The cards simply give me an overview, it is up to you to discover the meaning within their readings.” She says, reaching for the cards to put them back in the deck.

“No!” Dieter shouts, reaching out and grabbing her hands to stop her. “I- I’ll pay you more. What-whatever you want. I just need to know.” He begs, unsure of what this soulmate could do to ruin him. “Just- anything. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bravo. It’s up to fate now.” She shakes her head, putting her hands out of his desperate grip, and puts her cards away. “I do not have this information. I do not know who she is or where she will come from. I wish you all the best and I hope you find happiness.” She says, standing up to get her purse.

“Please. Don’t go. I need to know.” He begs, standing up to follow her. She manages to make her escape from his hotel room. He returns to Los Angeles tomorrow and he knows he’s going to need to see his dealer. His nerves are fucked.

****

You exhale shakily, nervous to start your new job. Always nervous when you meet someone new and this is Oscar winning Dieter Bravo. It’s going to be a project, he looks like a trash man half of the time, wearing random shit, and they want you to revamp his image. A challenge for sure. You ring his doorbell, eager for this consultation to get his measurements and discuss his style…whatever that style would be called.

Dieter groans, head pounding and he feels like something died in his mouth. Maybe he had done too many drugs last night, but he was stressed. Stressed and worried about what this soulmate might do to him. Making him decide that he wanted nothing to do with a soulmate. Why do you even need them? You can choose, everyone should choose.

He stumbles to the door and opens it, boxers on, one croc missing and his tatty robe consisting of his entire outfit. Blearily trying to focus on who is in front of him as he squints. “Who are you?” He demands, voice cracking.

“Oh. They didn’t tell you I was coming?” You frown, glancing down at his “outfit” if you can call it that. You sigh, “I spoke to your manager earlier. They hired me as your stylist. I’m - I’m here to look through your closet and help with your everyday looks.” You wrinkle your nose slightly at his outfit.

“Shit. That’s today?” Dieter groans, knowing that his manager will kill him if he sends you away, so he opens the door and gestures for you to come in. “Just- do whatever you need to do.” He grunts, turning and walking away, needing to piss and get something to drink.

You watch him kick out his leg as he walks, adjusting his balls and you sigh, knowing this isn’t going to be an easy job. You follow him, eyes widening at the expensive home he lives in, littered with drug paraphernalia and silver trays. “Uh, where is your closet?”

Dieter huffs, leaning out from the bathroom, the door still up as he pisses. “Top of the stairs, to the left. Can’t miss it.” It’s the biggest damn bedroom upstairs and the closet is in the bedroom.

You huff, making your way upstairs to his bedroom, wrinkling your nose at the mess that lingers around the room. Bed messy and clothes everywhere, you make your way into the walk-in closet, knowing you’re going to have your hands full with this. You start to rifle through his clothes, unable to believe that half the clothes he owns are full of holes or ripped. You take a shirt out, finally finding something decent. You make your way back downstairs, finding Dieter in the kitchen, “you want to sit down? We can talk about what your style is.”

He looks up and squints at you, trying to remember who you are before he recalls why you are here. The stylist. “Whatever’s comfortable.” He shrugs, and continues to line up a thin line of cocaine. “Want some?” He offers, wanting to be polite since you are in his house.

You shake your head, “no thanks.” You bite your tongue, knowing you will just piss him off if you lecture him about getting high. “Apart from whatever’s comfortable, do you have any preferences? Colors you like? Inspirations? I don’t want to just dress you up like a doll. I want you to be involved, to have a say.” You sit down at the table he’s sitting at, taking your notepad out of your purse. “Tell me what you like and then I’ll go and leave you in peace.”

“I like stuff that moves.” Dieter grunts, shrugging at you rejecting the line of coke. “I don’t like anything too tight, but if I have to dress up I like fitted. I love lounge clothes.” He’s never really thought about it if he was honest. “I don’t know. I wear whatever. Most of my stuff has been given to me or I’ve taken from friends.”

You know there are comfortable options that will look good on him and won't suffocate him. "I know your PR team doesn't care what you wear in the house but they are concerned about the amount of 'homeless trash man' comments that have appeared and they want you to look more polished when you go out. I think I know what will work. I just need your measurements. Can you stand up?" You ask, taking your measuring tape out of your purse.

“Homeless.” Dieter scowls at that and shakes his head. “I have an Oscar.” He huffs and then looks you over again. You’re hot and he wouldn’t mind having sex with you. “You don’t think I look like a trash man, do you?” He asks, eyes wide and slightly hurt at the idea.

You tilt your head, "you - you are a handsome guy. Sexy. You have so much appeal and you look hot even as a trash man but you could be sexier in comfy but fitted clothes. Just give me a chance to make you look polished." You practically plead, knowing that compliments are the way to his compliance but he is hot, you can't deny that. Those beautiful brown eyes...you force yourself to look away. "Can you stand and let me measure you up?" You ask, wanting to push your attraction aside.

He perks up at the compliments, scrambling to his feet and standing in the middle of the room with his arms and legs spread. “Add some extra room in the crotch.” He smirks and winks at you playfully. “Don’t like to be too tight when I get hard.”

You want to roll your eyes but you refrain, barely. Nodding in agreement as you grab your notebook and pen, measuring his shoulders and arms first. Then you measure his neck, ignoring the way his eyes burn into you, making you shift slightly from how intense he is. Then you measure his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your palm before you measure his waist. When it comes to his inseam, you kneel down and swallow harshly, coming face to face with his crotch. “How much room do you want?” You ask, croaking slightly.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Dieter blurts out, ignoring your questions to pose one of his own. His cock already twitching from seeing you on your knees in front of him. It’s been awhile and you’re pretty and he likes the way your hands feel on him. He’s used to people touching him, but there’s something about you that speaks to him.

Your jaw drops at his forwardness, “I- I- no. I, uh, it would be unprofessional and you don’t even know me. I don’t know you.” You reason with yourself, knowing it’s wrong even though he’s sexy and it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. You went through a phase of casual sex when you finally accepted that you might not find your soulmate and one day, you decided to have hope again. So many people find their soulmate during this lifetime, it’s not impossible, you just have to have hope. “No. I, uh, I don’t think we should have sex.”

“Oh.” Dieter’s hopeful face falls but he doesn’t argue. “Okay.” He nods and bites his lip as your hand starts to slide up the inside of his thigh. Jumping, he gives a small, almost girlish giggle. “Sorry- I- I’m ticklish.” He huffs, shaking his head and moving closer to you. “Sorry.”

He’s disappointed that you don’t want to have sex but hopefully you will leave soon and he can find someone who will. He’s upset and sex always helps. Especially since he’s found out he can never be with his soulmate. “Bet your soulmate wouldn’t want that.” He adds, giving a small shrug.

You sigh, writing down the measurement, “I haven’t met them yet.” You hate to be reminded of that fact. You know he hasn’t met his soulmate yet, obviously, and you wonder if he even wants to. “I- I’m not that type of girl. I don’t want a fling or one time thing anymore. I want a connection. Don’t you?” You ask, picking up the tape to measure his hips.

“Not with my soulmate.” Dieter scowls thinking about the words of the psychic. “Think about it. You mean that some mystic powers in the universe knew when I was born who I was supposed to love? The perfect person for me?” He scoffs. “I shed personas like a shed boxers. I’m an actor.” He stresses. “Who could put up with this?”

He’s probably the only person you’ve ever met who wasn’t excited or obsessed with the idea of finding their soulmate. Some of your friends had given up, gotten married to their partner at the time only to abandon them when they met their soulmate. You thought it was cruel of the universe to play with people but it’s how the system goes. “That’s why they are your soulmate. A perfect match. They compliment you and give you what you need while you give them what they need. You have a lot to offer here, Dieter.” You gesture to his house and he scoffs.

“Yeah. Money. Perfect for the deep universally pre-determined connection.” He rolls his eyes and you shift onto your haunches to look up at him.

“The right person will love you for you. You just haven’t met them yet. They will know what you need. Now, let’s sit down and do some color matching and then I’ll be out of your hair.” You slap your knees and stand up, grabbing the notepad and tape to place them in your purse and get the swatches.

Dieter rolls his eyes and pouts slightly. He’s getting hungry and now the line he had done was taking the edge off his headache, he’s bored. “Let’s order some food.” He suggests, hating the idea of eating another meal alone in the large house that was either full of people destroying things, or just him puttering around in it alone. “What do you want to eat? We can have it delivered.”

“Oh I can’t-”

Dieter cuts you off, “well what else do you have to do today?”

You sigh, “well nothing but -”

Dieter grins, “perfect. So you can stay for lunch.” He grabs his cell off of the table, taking a seat and he taps the seat beside him without looking up.

You sigh softly, sitting down and fiddling with the color samples. You should go, you have to go, but why can’t you? Something is telling you to stay with him and you can’t ignore it. You want to know more about him and you tell yourself it’s so you can hone in on his style.

Dieter grins, “okay so options. I kind of want a burrito. Ooo or maybe a burger. You want pizza? Or maybe we can get Thai. You know what, I’m gonna order it all and we can just decide from there.” He does it all within the blink of an eye, the protest on your lips dies as he hits confirm on the orders and you stare at him in shock. “What? When I’m hungry, I’m hungry.” He winks at you and you can’t help but giggle.

“Okay. While we wait, can I do my job?” You ask and he pouts but nods. With a hum, you start to place the fabrics under his chin, wanting to see what works best for him.

Dieter watches you work, admiring the way your bottom lip is nibbled on as you decide on fabrics and patterns. “Why a stylist?” He asks, wanting to know more about you and not focus on the damn soulmate who would ruin him. You were the only one available so he would learn about you like he was researching a role.

Your gaze shifts to his eyes, “I’ve always loved fashion. Wanted to be a designer until I found out how hard that industry is. Almost like being an actor. It’s a lottery game. So I decided to shift into styling and moved to L.A, got to know people and then grew my portfolio and it snowballed from there. I tend to do more day to day looks and less red carpet unless it’s a special client.” You tell him, flipping to the next fabric. “This one is perfect.” The dark green compliments him beautifully and you look back into those eyes. Shit, he’s handsome. “What about you? Why acting?”

Dieter snorts, giving a rueful chuckle. “I’m insecure, constantly need validation and affection, and I get to pretend to not be me.” He tells you with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I was going to be an actor.” He’s done therapy and he knows his faults. He just chooses not to look at them like they are something that detracts from his appeal. He had leaned into his vices and shortcomings. He looks at you again and notices how your eyes have lit up happily at finding a good color. “Fuck, you would look good naked and modeling for me.” He groans. “I bet you have amazing tits.”

You fluster, unable to stop yourself reacting to his sudden compliment and you wonder if he treats everyone like this. The electricity between you must be his charisma, his magnetism. “You paint?” You ask breathlessly, realizing that’s what he means when your gaze flicks to the canvas on the wall behind him, his signature clear on the bottom corner.

Nodding, he narrows his eyes at you, imagining how he would pose you. Sometimes he paints garish things to get out the turbulent emotions inside him but you, you would be soft. Sensuous. The look of a woman blissed out by pleasure and luxuriating in her own power. “You would look good on canvas.” He hums again, his brain whirling as he plots out where he would pose you. By the pool? No, that would be too bright. In his bed? Ideally, but you’ve already turned him down for sex. He will ask anyone once, but if he remembers he asked them, he won’t bother them again.

The way he’s looking at you has you feeling sexy and powerful. You don’t want to have sex with him, it would be unprofessional and you have to maintain boundaries but you are tempted to have him paint you. You’ve never been asked that before and you are curious. “How would you paint me?” You inquire, setting the fabrics down as you let your guard down. There’s something about him that makes you want to listen to him talk all day.

Dieter hums, biting his lip and nods to himself. “Soft lighting, just a hint of it. Fabrics that feel good against your skin, makes you want to writhe in them. Preferably after cumming, limbs heavy and smiling completely spacy.” He tells you. “That moment where everything else in the world is gone but the way your body relaxes, right before you fall asleep after. Maybe yearning like you want your lover back with you, touching you.”

You inhale sharply, his words making your stomach twist and you bite your lip, flustered and slightly turned on. “That sounds - it sounds like a dream. I haven’t had that before…not like that. The feeling of just being there in the moment.” You sigh, imagining the intimacy, something you’ve craved since you moved to L.A but have never found.

“Mhm.” Dieter grins and turns towards the kitchen, thirsty again. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want a drink? Wine, bourbon?” He asks, never feeling like it is too early in the day for alcohol. He strides over to his fridge and opens it up, pulling out a chilled white wine he had fallen in love with when he was filming in Napa Valley and bought cases of it. He holds it up in question as he looks back at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t drink because that’s going to lead to dumb decisions but you can’t stop yourself. You feel this connection to him and you want to be a little crazy. Stop being so sensible all the time. “Okay. Sure, why not?” You shrug, leaning back in the seat and deciding to let go for once in your life.

“Yes!” Dieter crows happily and spins around so he can hunt up the electric wine bottle opener and pull out glasses. Happy that he’s not going to be drinking alone even though it’s early. “Then I’ll let you dress me in whatever your heart desires.” He teases, looking over his shoulder and winking at you.

You smile, realizing now that he just wants company and you can still get your job done. “Even if I put you in a full tuxedo?” You joke, your heart pounding at the way he winked at you. God, there’s something about him. He’s just - he’s dynamite. Even in ratty clothes and messy hair, he’s taking your breath away.

“The best part of putting on a tuxedo is taking it off.” Dieter smirks as he turns around with two wine glasses that are filled way beyond a normal pour. He’s split the bottle between the two of you and strides towards you with all the confidence of a man who is at ease in his own skin, even if he’s just wearing boxers and a robe. “If you put me in a tux, I’m going to insist you take it off me.” He jokes as he hands you the glass.

You fluster, taking the glass of wine eagerly as you look up at him. “That’s a compromise I haven’t heard before. Most men hate tuxedos but will wear them to impress their fans.” You eye the massive glass of wine, knowing you’re going to need it. “I’m sure you have plenty of people who would kill to take the tux off of you.”

“Who knows?” He shrugs slightly and takes a sip of his wine, loving how the sweet tartness of the wine coats his tongue. “I’m sure they are, but I try not to fuck fans anymore. It gets messy.” He shudders slightly, remembering the last time he let a fan flatter him into bed. He had been dragged into court for a paternity test that couldn’t possibly be him. The obsession had thrown him off doing that again.

You hum, imagining just how messy it can get when you are an Oscar winning actor like he is. “So who do you fuck?” You blurt out the question and wince at your forwardness and lack of filter. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable but you immediately go to apologize, “sorry. I shouldn’t - that was rude.”

Dieter snorts, laughing really and gives a careless shrug. “Anyone, I guess.” He tells you. “Men, women, anyone who is willing. But I guess I stick with people in the business now.” He explains. “The last time was this chick that I was stuck with at a hotel. She worked there and she kept trying to make it seem like we were soulmates even though we weren’t.” He huffs. “She wanted to get married and was pissed when I wouldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widen, “holy shit.” You choke out a chuckle, “soulmates. I, uh, I haven’t met mine yet.” You can assume he hasn’t met his.

He scoffs, “I don’t want to meet mine.”

You frown, “why not?”

He sighs, “it’s a long story but soulmates…it sounds complicated and permanent. I like my freedom. I like being able to do what I want, who I want.”

You nod, “i can understand that but to have a soulmate…they understand you in a way no one else will. They compliment you, challenge you. Make you a better person. I’d like that. I haven’t met mine yet but I would like to.”

He rolls his eyes, his views on soulmates now skewed because of what the psychic had told him. “Forget soulmates,” he urges, taking another sip of his wine. “Let’s talk about you. What would you want to peel me out of if you dress me like you want?” He can’t help but flirt, winking at you playfully. “I might let you put it on me.”

He’s flirting and you don’t mind it, giggling a little now that you’ve had a few sips of wine. “I think you’d look good in fitted jeans. A button down. Hair styled properly. We could roll the sleeves up on the shirt to display your tattoos. Perhaps some sneakers so you’re still comfortable. Maybe a cardigan if it’s cold. You’d look good in knit.” You imagine the browns and creams that would compliment those brown eyes, maybe a forest green. “You’d let me dress you and undress you?” You tease, “sounds like I’m just doing all the work.”

“I’m the one wearing it, baby.” He grins at you, enjoying the way you are bantering with him. There’s something about you, it just draws him to you like a moth to flame. It’s harmless to flirt since you aren’t shutting it down and he’s not pressing you to sleep with him since he’s said no. “How about I dress and undress you too?” He offers. “You just have to pick it out since I have horrible taste.” He pauses again. “Or you’d just be naked all the time.”

“Oh no.” You shake your head, “no. I, uh, you don’t wanna see me naked all the time. I’ve had, um, I’ve had previous partners who have told me to change how I look. Lose weight. Gain weight. I’m not exactly-” You exhale deeply, “I think I’d be best to pick out some clothes.” It’s ironic that you’re a stylist, helping people look and feel good when you struggle to do it for yourself after so many years of not being good enough. Your ex had lectured you about losing weight, then about gaining weight, then wanted you to get extensions, then cut your hair. You were never good enough…until he went off with his soulmate one day and left you in the dust.

Dieter huffs, lips pulling down into a scowl and he looks back over at you. “Someone lied to you.” He comments. “You’re gorgeous. Who cares if you “need to lose weight”?” He actually sets the glass of wine down so he can do air quotes with his fingers. “Or need to eat. Have short or long hair. It doesn’t change you from being sexy and compelling.” Dieter has long been body positive, and it annoys him that you wouldn’t think you would look good naked. “You can make me hard, just like this.”

His words make your heart thump and you set your wine glass down. Part of you knows he’s just a horny actor who wants to get off and the other part of you wants to believe him. You reach for his hand, “thank you for saying that. That’s so sweet.” You mean it and he winks at you, “just stating facts.” You see his wrist covered in bracelets and briefly wonder if his soulmate mark is there and he hides it. When he sees your eyes on his wrist, he pulls his hand away just as the doorbell rings for your food delivery.

“I’ll get it.” Dieter springs up off the couch, darting towards the door excitedly. His stomach is growling now and he wants to gorge himself on some good food. Popping the door open, he grins at the delivery driver. “Come in, bring it alllllll in.” He opens the door wider, aware that they have a ton of bags to bring in.

Your eyes widen as the delivery guy brings the food into the kitchen. “Oh my God. Are you hibernating or something?” You ask.

Dieter who snorts and shakes his head, “no but I can eat a shit ton after I’ve gotten high.” He confesses and the driver chuckles, knowing who Dieter is. “Here you go man.” Dieter shoves a hundred dollar bill into his hand after he sets the bags down.

You smile, liking that he is generous, and he starts to unpack the door after the delivery guy has left. “You ordered so much.” You gasp, eying the variety and your stomach grumbles.

“Leftovers.” Dieter starts opening containers, groaning at the smell and steals an olive off a plate of nachos. “We can pig out and then munch when we are hungry later.” He’s pushing it, but he doesn’t want you to leave. Just assuming that you will go along with his plan. “I’ll even let you throw away clothes.”

Your eyebrows raise at his takeover of your day but you can't complain, not eager to head home to your empty apartment. "I don't throw away clothes. I repair them or give them to charity. It's wasteful to toss them out unless they are beyond saving." You answer, grabbing some pizza after he hands you a plate. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Dieters eyes light up at your suggestion and his head bobbles up and down quickly. So quickly he almost makes himself dizzy. He points towards the living room where the large tv is on display. “Whatever you want. Let’s eat on the couch.” He suggests, smirking slightly at being lazy with you and maybe he’ll even smoke some weed after eating.

You follow him to the sofa and he turns on the television, pulling up Netflix to see the commercial for Cliff Beasts. “Absolutely not.” He cringes and moves onto his watch list. “What do you wanna watch?” He asks and you settle into the plush sofa, a little awkwardly since this isn’t your home. “You pick.” You insist, this is his home and he paid for the food. The least you can do is allow him to pick the movie.

“Nah, I don’t really care.” Dieter shrugs and shoves a piece of sushi in his mouth. “As long as it’s none of my movies.” He stipulates. “I hate watching my own shit. It depresses me because I always think of how I could have done it better. Or get pissed off at what they edit out.”

You can understand that. A lot of actors don't like watching themselves but you down at how critical Dieter is about himself. "You are an incredible actor. Truly, once in a generation. Seeing you in Hunger Strike...I couldn't look away." You had seen that move three times in the theater, unable to explain why you felt so drawn to it, to him. "What about that new Glass Onion movie?" You suggest, having heard about it from your friends.

“It’s on my watch list.” Dieter nods, basking in the pleasure of your compliments, even if he doesn’t believe them. All the shit he’s been shoved in since makes him believe that his Oscar was a fluke. Maybe he got it too young, rose to fame too fast. “Turn it on and I’ll grab our wine.” He had forgotten about it and set his plate down so he can rush back into the kitchen for it.

You turn on the movie, smiling as he sets your glass of wine down on the coffee table, and you are confused by how comfortable this is. It shouldn't be this easy to be around a stranger. The movie plays while you eat and you try to guess who the killer is.

"It's Birdy." Dieter says, pointing at the screen and you shake your head, "Birdy? She's not smart enough. No. It has to be whatever the fuck the Edward Norton's character is called." You struggle to remember and you lean into his side as the movie comes to its climax. Plates on the table and wine glasses empty.

“That’s too obvious.” Dieter hums, turning his head and looking over at you. You really are gorgeous and this is the most relaxed he has been in a long time. The most fun he’s had too, if he will admit that to himself. “They have dropped too many hints that it’s Miles.” He points out. “Trying to draw you away from the real killer.”

You lean back to look at him, a smirk on your face, “you wanna bet? I bet it’s Norton. You bet it’s Birdy?” You ask and he nods, “what’s the winner get?”

You chuckle at his eagerness and you hum, “you get to fuck me.” You had decided about halfway into the movie that you wanted this man to fuck you. He’s so effortlessly sexy, funny and you are drawn to him. This just makes your desires known under the guise of a game.

“And if you win?” He counters.

You smirk, leaning closer, “I get to fuck you.”

He frowns for just a second, doing the math on your proposal before he lights up like a Christmas tree. “Fuck yes!” He pumps his fist into the air happily. “Never wanted a movie to be over faster.” He hums, smirking at you. “So how do you like it? Oral first, oral after? I kinda like it after myself.” He winks. “Clean up my mess, ya know?”

You shiver slightly at the thought of him eagerly lapping up his cum from inside of you. “I like oral in general. My ex…he never wanted to go down on me. Didn’t really want to do much except doggy. I guess he saved that for his soulmate.” You scoff, keeping your eyes on the screen. “I have an IUD. I’m clean, by the way.” You promise, hoping he’s clean too, “but we can use a condom. I know some stars are nervous in case of accidents.”

Dieter grins at you. “Slept with a lot of movie stars, huh?” He teases, sending you a small wink. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be the best.” He promises cockily.

“No- I just- I know that some don’t-“

He shakes his head and smirks at you. “I was joking. I’m clean and honestly? Who knows if my swimmers work, as many drugs as I do.” He huffs, remembering a doctor warning him that his usage could affect his motility later on. That had been after the first OD.

You nod, knowing he’s a heavy user of all drugs, having watched him OD on set in the video that was uploaded to YouTube and went viral. “Do you want kids? One day?” You ask out of curiosity as you settle back against him to continue watching the movie, eager to see who wins the bet.

There’s a careless shrug of his shoulders and he sighs softly. “I don’t know.” He admits. “I like kids. They’re cool in a non-parental kind of way. But I’d probably fuck a kid up, you know?” He knows he’s not a good man, far from it. His faults are very well known to him when he lists them all off in his head when he is down. “If it happened I wouldn’t hate it, but I’ve never really given it much thought.”

You nod, understanding what he means. “I haven’t really thought about it either. Too busy trying to make a career for myself in a competitive field. For the record, I don’t think you’d fuck up a kid. Just- you couldn’t be snorting coke anymore.” You nudge him playfully, “I think you’d be a good dad though.” You tell him, knowing he’s a good man from just the time you’ve spent with him. He’s fun and you know a child would love him.

“Eh.” He ducks his head slightly at the surprising compliment. It actually makes him a little emotional for reasons he can’t understand. “Thanks.” He murmurs, looking back at the tv. “Maybe one day. If I don’t get too old.”

You smile at his bashful reaction, “you’d definitely be a dilf.” You tease him just as the killer is revealed. “I told you!” You watch the crystal smash and grin, unable to believe you were right and you turn your head to cup his cheek, bringing his mouth to yours so you can kiss him. Electricity surges through you, making you gasp, and you can’t believe how good it feels to barely kiss him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, surprised that you are actually following through with the bet but he doesn’t question it. Greedily kissing you back and moaning into your mouth as he reaches for you. It’s your show, you get to fuck him how you want but he needs to touch you. Dieter Bravo is greedy for physical affection.

Your body feels like it’s on fire as his tongue slides into your mouth, Netflix already lining up another show but you don’t care. You moan into his mouth and shift to straddle him while his hands squeeze your ass. It feels so natural, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. “Fuck Dieter.” You sigh when he kisses down your throat and sucks on your skin over your collarbone. “I want to fuck you.”

“H-how?” Dieter croaks out, willing to let you do whatever you want to him. “How do you want me? You- you won the bet.” He can’t help but roll his hips up, his hardening cock pressing against you. “You fuck me how you want to baby, I’ll do whatever you want.” Most would think Dieter is dominant because of his brash attitude and his cocky nature, but he can be surprisingly submissive.

You smirk, “I want to ride you.” You reveal, feeling empowered and you desperately want him to writhe beneath you. You want to feel in control and desired. You reach for his ratty robe, pushing it down his arms and he leans forward so you can get it off of him. “That’s being thrown out.” You warn him, seeing all the holes in the material, it’s beyond repair.

Dieter pouts, that one being one of his favorites and he huffs at you. “As long as you buy me another, baby.” He compromises, knowing that he doesn’t really have a choice and it probably should have been thrown out years ago. “Here or my bed?” He pants out, his own hands rubbing up and down your back and squeezing your ass but he hasn’t given you permission to undress you.

“Here. Unless you want me to leave early. I was hoping you could fuck me next.” You nip his jaw, loving the scruff there, and you whimper when he thrusts up to grind against you. “I want to ride you here.” You tell him, impatient with your sudden need for him. You reach for the hem of your shirt, a little nervous because he’s been with a lot of partners. You toss your shirt aside, exposing your bra and you reach behind you to undo it, looking into his eyes when you expose your tits to his hungry gaze.

“Fuck baby, look at those tits.” Dieter groans, reaching up and cupping your breasts so he can lean forward and press his face into them happily. Smothering your skin in kisses across your chest until he is taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking harshly as he looks up at you. His cock is throbbing, but he wants to make sure you enjoy yourself.

His lips sucking on your nipple make your cunt drip and you tangle your fingers in his messy locks. “Shit Diet.” You whimper, arching your back and you grind down onto his cock. “Please, baby. You can do that when you’re inside of me.” You reluctantly push his face away and shuffle off of him to push your jeans down your legs along with your panties.

“Yes madam.” Dieter bobbles his head up and down as he lifts his hips to discard his boxers. He’s already fully hard and as soon as he’s kicked them off his feet, he’s wrapping his hand around his cock and groaning as he watches you strip. “Told you that you could get me hard.” He purrs.

“Oh God.” You moan at the sight of his hard cock. “Fuck baby. Wanna - God I wanna suck you off.” You confess, eying his cock. Your hands shake slightly as you move to straddle him. “After.” You promise, letting him position his cock at your entrance. You’re soaking wet and he’s girthy, it’s gonna sting but it’s gonna be worth it. You sink down onto his cock, slowly to adjust to him and you grip his shoulders, “shit.” You hiss, tilting your head back as he stretches you out.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Buddha.” Dieter breathes out, eyes closing in concentration so he doesn’t blow his load within seconds of being inside you, “I-I- holy shit.” He hisses, nearly whimpering when you clench down around him. “Oh shit baby, goddamn you’re so tight.”

You chuckle breathlessly at his exclamation and you don’t move, sensing that he needs a moment. “Dieter.” You sigh in pleasure, loving how he feels inside of you and you cup his cheeks, pressing your lips against his. You give yourself several moments to just savor how he feels inside of you, his tongue sliding against yours. You pull back after a moment, pecking his lips and you start to move, lifting your hips to start riding him.

“Shit.” Dieter moans, his eyes rolling back as you start to bounce on his cock. “Oh fuck baby, this pussy is perfect. So fucking perfect.” His hands move to your hips and he squeezes them. Your pussy is tight, gripping him like a vice and he knows you are going to kill him. “Oh fuck.”

“You probably - shit - say that to everyone.” You joke and slide your hands down his chest, tracing the tattoo above his heart. You moan his name, starting at a quick pace. You slam down onto his cock, gripping his shoulders to balance yourself as you start to ride him for all you’re worth.

He keens under you. Wordlessly crying out and all he can do is shake his head. Gripping your hips tighter while you ride him like he’s a fucking Bronco. He loves it, gasping out your name as he tries to keep up. Enjoying letting you use his cock.

Your mouth falls open, moans and squeals escaping your lips as you lean into Dieter and the angle has him pushing up against something devastating with every rock of your hips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, your cheek resting on top of his head and he turns it so he can take a nipple into his mouth. When he wraps his lips around it and bites down, you shatter above him. Clamping down on his cock, your thighs shake and you soak him as you cry into his dark locks, eyes squeezed shut.

The molten liquid is your cum washes over him and makes him groan your name again. Feeling the way you clamp down around him and shake. It’s gorgeous, your gorgeous and dieter feels his own end coming. Holding tight to you as his hips ruck up, thrusting wildly.

You try to rock down onto his cock but he holds you still so he can thrust up into you. You tilt his head, forcing him to look at you and you brush your lips against his. “Cum for me, baby.” You order, biting down on his lower lip and he lets out a sinful groan against your mouth, his cock twitching as he starts to fill you up.

Sex is like a drug. Endorphins flood Dieter’s entire body and he starts to float. Whining into your mouth when he feels overstimulated and he finishes, slumping down to the couch and he leans forward. His mouth at your throat as he pants to catch his breath, floating on a cloud of pleasure.

You pant against his neck, burying your face there to breathe him in and you sigh, “that was - shit. I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever cum.” You confess, imagining what could happen if you have sex again and again. You might never leave his house.

Dieter giggles, always in a good mood when he cums and is the most relaxed he’s ever felt. No drug has ever quite managed to replicate that feeling and it’s even better with you. “Fuck, we should keep doing this.” He tells you breathlessly. “Best fucking sex ever.”

You fluster, certain he’s just saying that in the haze of his orgasm, but you whimper your agreement, “so good.” You sigh and shift to move off of him but he whines, grabbing your ass to keep you close. “Your cum is gonna ruin your sofa.” You giggle and he kisses along your chest and up to your neck.

“I’ll buy a new fucking sofa.” He half jokes, kissing your chin and you suddenly pull back to smirk at him.

“Or you could clean up your mess?”

Dieter groans, spent cock twitching at the idea of licking his cum out of you. “You want that, baby?” He coos, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours sweetly. “You want me to lick my cum out of your pussy and see if you can cum harder on my tongue than you did on my cock?”

You moan, body lighting up at his words, and you shift to lay down on the sofa but he shakes his head, helping you stand up. “Want to save the sofa.” He jokes and you stand on shaking legs. He grabs your calf, lifting your foot to rest on the back of his sofa and you wobble, grabbing his head and he groans when you tug on his hair, his dark eyes honing in on the cum that’s threatening to drip out of your cunt. You whimper and he leans forward to slide his tongue through your folds.

“Fuck.” You gasp, nearly folding over as he starts to lick his cum from inside of you.

His eyes flutter shut and he groans at the taste of his seed mixed with your slick. It’s like ambrosia and he eagerly pushes his tongue deeper inside you. His fingers dig into your thigh, pressing his face deeper as he eats you out sloppily. Not wanting to miss a drop and wanting to make you cum again while he recovers enough to fuck you. His flaccid cock hangs between his thighs as he kneels in front of you, your combined cum drying on his skin and he loves it. Amazed that he is being allowed to touch you after being told no earlier, he’s eager to prove you make the right choice.

Your moans echo in his living room and you cry out when he sucks on your clit. “Fuck baby. I- I - shit. You - you like that?” You ask breathlessly, “you like tasting our cum combined? You’re a dirty boy, aren’t you?” You shift into another aspect of your sexuality as you coo to Dieter, feeling how desperate he is with how hard he’s gripping your thighs.

Fuck. Dieter practically whimpers into your pussy as you find the magical fucking words for him. He loves being called a dirty boy, a good boy whatever. It taps into his need to please and that praise kink that he has. Nodding as he works his tongue into your cum soaked walls, he happily slurps up your cum and his along with the saliva he had deposited as if it is the nectar of the Gods. Your fingers tangle into his hair and twist around the curls to make him groan even louder when you start to tug on it.

You love how eager he is, sliding his tongue into your cunt and his nose pressed against your clit. You are wound up from your prior orgasm so it doesn't take long for you to cum. You nearly pull his hair out as you cum, gripping his locks and crying his name as you shake above him.

Moaning, he feels your walls flutter about his tongue and he loves the way your thighs try to squeeze his head. Wanting to suffocate right here in your cunt. He pulls his tongue out and laps at your clit until your hips jerk back, needing to get away from his mouth. Looking up at you, he licks his lips and grins, basking in the blissed out expression on your face.

Looking down at him, your heart pounds in your chest and you can’t help but surge forward to press your lips to his, awkwardly shifting to kneel in front of him so you can get closer. “Baby. Oh baby, that was so good.” You moan into his mouth, kissing along his jaw and you notice he’s half hard again. You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him to squeeze him.

Dieter groans into your mouth, cock twitching and he gets even harder under the gentle squeezes of your hand. “Fuck.” He pants quietly, pulling back and looking into your eyes. “Did I - you liked it?” Despite hearing how good it is, he needs to hear more. The need to make it good for you is nearly overwhelming.

“So good baby. You’re such a good boy.” You have picked up on his reaction to your praise and you are happy to shower him with praise. His cock twitches in your hand and you let go so you can spit into your palm, moaning when you take him back into your hand and pump him.

His mouth drops open and his eyes flutter closed as you start to stroke his cock. Breathing heavily, his hips start to shift up, chasing the exquisite feeling of your hand in his length. “Fuck.” He moans quietly, sure that he would just want you to jerk him off forever if it felt like this. “I’m good.” He mumbles, nearly to himself.

“You’re so good.” You promise, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “You’re so good to me. Making me cum like a good boy.” You murmur against his skin and you let go of him, making him whine. You chuckle and shift to kneel down, taking him in your hand again so you can lean forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasingly lapping up the drop of pre-cum that gathered there.

The noise Dieter makes is one of surprised agony. You would think that with his fame, he would get blow jobs all the time but he doesn’t. The feeling of your mouth is incredible and he barely restrains himself from grabbing the back of your head. Reaching out and grabbing the coffee table instead and lifting his hips until he's on his knees so you don’t have to bend over so much.

You moan in appreciation of him shifting to make it easier and you take him deeper. Cupping his balls while you bob your head on his cock, you take him deeper with each move, wanting him to moan your name again and again.

“Oh shit, oh shit baby.” Dieter moans, rolling his head back and looks up at the ceiling before he remembers there is a view in front of him and quickly snaps his head back down. Your lips around his cock look amazing and he twitches in response to the sight. “Fuck baby, your mouth, it’s so- so good. Oh God look at you taking my dick down your throat.” He whines, shuddering when your tongue presses against the slit.

You take him deeper, choking as you try to swallow around him, and you love his praise, stomach twisting as you enjoy pleasuring him. You’ve never really been a fan of giving blowjobs but you find yourself loving giving him one. You want him to cum down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you push yourself to take him further down your throat, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

Choking out your name, Dieter nearly hunches over. His body tensing and shuddering as he comes close to the edge. You swallow around him and he’s done for. A cry ripping from his lips as he starts to cum. Pumping hot ropes of cum down your throat and starting to whine at how good it feels emptying his balls again so soon after cumming earlier.

You focus on swallowing every drop. You struggle but you want him to love every second of this. You manage to get every single drop, letting him slowly work his length in and out of your mouth while he rides his high. When he whines with overstimulation, you pull back off of him, licking your lips as you let his cock fall from your mouth.

“Fucking hell.” He groans, looking down at you like you are the most precious thing on the planet. “You’re amazing.” He groans, reaching out to cup your cheek and not realizing that his bracelet must have fallen off while he was eating you out.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to kiss his palm and see the mark on his wrist. “Dieter…” You whisper, eyes wide and you grab his forearm so you can look at the mark. “Your mark…” You trail off again, swallowing harshly and eyes wide as you inspect it and sit up straight.

He immediately pulls his arm back, getting protective over the mark, “my fucking bracelet.” He hisses, looking around for it.

“No. No. I - I-” You choke out, fumbling to undo the bracelet on your own wrist. “I- it’s -” You can’t speak as you take the jewelry off and shove your wrist towards him so he can see it on your skin. The same mark as his. Your heart thumps in your chest, unable to believe you’ve found your soulmate and it’s him. He’s staring at you and you smile, almost giddy with joy that this crazy, handsome man is your soulmate.

Dieter’s heart drops and he hears the psychic’s voice echoing in his head, telling him that his soulmate would ruin him. Scrambling to his feet, Dieter backs up, nearly tripping over the sofa the two of you had joked about earlier. “Get out.” His voice cracks and he can barely speak. “No.” He shakes his head, hating how the best fucking sex he’s had in forever is his fucking soulmate. “Get out! No! I don’t- you can’t- no!” He shouts, snatching up his boxers and hopping on one leg as he tries to pull them on. “You’re not going to do it!”

Your eyes widen as he scrambles to get away from you. Hurt clear as day on your face as he outwardly rejects you. “Dieter. I don’t - I don’t understand. Why are you-? What - I’m not doing anything.” You stand up, suddenly hating the fact that you’re naked and you shift to grab your clothes from the floor. “I’m so confused. Are you not happy?”

“You- you’re going to ruin me.” Dieter spits out frantically, wondering if it’s already happened since he fucked you. “She told me- she told me you would. I can’t- you can’t do that to me.” He whines, nearly about to cry at the fact that you’re funny and beautiful and make him feel good - yet you would ruin him. “I need- I need to do something.” He murmurs to himself, looking around for his bracelet. “A cleansing, a charm, something.”

To say you’re hurt is an understatement. You watch him frantically look for his phone. You feel tears prick in your eyes as you pull your panties on and your jeans. “I- I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.” You choke, tears now streaming down your cheeks and you cover your mark with your bracelet again. You’ve dreamed of this moment, to meet your soulmate. You’ve wondered who they were since you were a little girl and found out about soulmates. You’ve finally met him and he doesn’t want you. “I’ll go. I- oh God.” You pull your shirt on, shoving your bra into your pocket, “I’ll go.”

The hurt in your tone makes Dieter pause, looking over at you. You look miserable, like he’s stolen your puppy or crushed your dreams. It makes his heart clench and he wants nothing more than to rush over to you and soothe you. Until he remembers what you will do to him. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, wishing he hadn’t slept with you. Knowing that he’s going to remember you for a long time. “I- I can’t. Please, you need to understand.”

You shake your head, pulling your shoes on and you grab your purse. “I don’t understand. I don’t. You just - some people never find their soulmate and you’re just throwing it away. For what reason? I don’t - I don’t understand. You haven’t explained and I just - I was so happy and you’re not happy. I’ll leave.” You sob, barely able to see through your tears, your heart aching as he rejects you.

“I-I’m sorry.” Dieter offers, hating the tears on your face, but he can’t risk it. You don’t answer, rushing out the door and leaving him alone staring at the door. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing the side of his face and wishing that his stomach didn’t feel like it was twisting in on itself. Or that his heart didn’t hurt. “I’ll go back to the psychic.” He decides, nodding to himself as he rushes towards the stairs. “She’ll tell me I did the right thing.”

****

“You’re back.” The psychic smiles when Dieter walks into her place, deciding to not call her to him again.

“I’m back and I want an explanation.” He demands, slamming his hand down on the counter and he is pissed. “An explanation about what?”

“Tell me how she ruins me.” Dieter demands, turning his hand over and showing her his palm along with the mark that you also wear on your own wrist. He hadn’t been able to make himself cover it again. It burns, like he’s been touched by fire. “I’ve met her. I fucked her before I knew it was my soulmate. Tell me how she ruins me.” This time he is begging, the image of your hurt and upset face burning in his mind. It’s all he’s been able to think about.

The psychic sighs, “I can’t tell you how she ruins you. That’s not how this works.” She gestures for Dieter to sit down. “Have you considered that maybe she will ruin you is not going to be a bad thing? Maybe she ruins you in a good way and you will be happier because of it. She could ruin you for all your sexual partners, they could pale in comparison, ruin you for your friends, no one could compare to her. Ruin your constant partying and drug abuse…it just depends on the interpretation.”

He shakes his head, scowling harshly. “That’s not what you said! You said she would be my salvation and ruin me…” Dieter breaks off and thinks hard, his heart flipping and his stomach lurching at the fact that he might have been wrong about this. “I- I rejected h-her.” He stutters, looking back at the psychic again. “What have I done? Did- did I fuck up?”

The psychic raises her eyes at him, “you’re an incredible actor. You are successful and wealthy, yet the best thing that could’ve happened to you…you rejected her. She might ruin you in the perfect way. You cannot mess with destiny, Mr. Bravo. She is yours and you are hers. Both of you will suffer if you try to fight fate.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” Dieter whines, panicking now that he’s realizes his badly he’s fucked up. “I can fix it, right? She- I haven’t totally screwed up? Tell me I didn’t.” He demands, thinking about how amazing it had been with you before he knew who you were.

She shakes her head and shrugs, “I cannot say. You need to find her. To tell her you’re sorry and try to heal the pain. Until you do, that mark on your arm will continue to burn. You need her and she needs you. Not many soulmates can survive without each other for long. Go find her.” The psychic orders, seeing the pain in his eyes.

“Shit.” Dieter digs his wallet out of his jeans and shoves some bills onto the table. “I need to find her.” He mumbles to himself. “I need to find her now. My agent.” He snaps his fingers and tunes around, not even bothering to say goodbye as he rushes out of the psychic’s shop.

****

To say you’ve been wallowing since you left Dieter’s house is an understatement. You haven’t left the house, been too busy crying and burrowed under your blankets, mindlessly watching television. When a commercial for Dieter’s new movie comes on, you start to sob. It’s hard to believe that your soulmate rejected you. The mark on your arm has been burning since you left his house and you try to ignore it but it’s another reminder of what happened.

When the doorbell rings, you figure it’s your takeout and drag yourself to the front door. “Can you leave it?” You croak out, wiping your eyes. When you don’t hear footsteps, you sigh and open the door, prepared to let the delivery driver see your breakdown. “Dieter?” You gasp in shock at seeing him on your doorstep.

He shuffles nervously, expecting you to scream at him like he deserves or slap him. He wouldn’t blame you. “I- I got your address from my- my agent.” He explains. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.” You should tell him no but he can tell you’ve been miserable and it’s all his fault. His fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to touch you, comfort you, but he doesn’t. You don’t want him touching you after he fucked up, especially since he hasn’t apologized.

You stare at him for several moments before you nod, knowing you need closure. You step aside and let him into your home. It’s nothing like his. Pokey and tiny compared to his big mansion. You shut the door when he moves inside your home and you cross your arms, trying to protect yourself. “What-” You clear your throat, “what are you doing here?”

“I- uh?” Now that he’s here, he can’t remember how he wanted to start this. The lines that he had come up with float out of his head as he looks at you. Hating that you’ve obviously been crying because of him. He looks down at his wrist and wonders if your mark burns like his. “I- I might have overreacted.” He admits, huffing quietly at himself. “The psychic told me that my soulmate would ruin me but she didn’t tell me how and I- I decided that I just wouldn’t let that happen.”

You frown at him, “psychic? What psychic?” You scoff at his poor excuse and shift to open the door to make him leave but he slams his hand against it to keep it open.

“I had a psychic come see me in my hotel room and she read my tarot cards and told me that I’d meet my soulmate and she would ruin me. She’d be my salvation and my damnation. I freaked out and promised I wouldn’t meet her and then I met her and well…” He trails off and you scoff

“You met her and you hate her.” You finish for him, letting go of the door so you can cross your arms, “I didn’t exactly expect my soulmate to be Dieter Bravo. The orgy king of L.A. Avid cocaine user and attached to every ‘baby mama’ story the tabloids run.” You fire back at him and he winces, “but then I met you and I- I realized how smart you are, how funny you are. You’re more than your rumors. I accepted you despite your faults and you couldn’t do that for me. You didn’t want me and I have to accept that, even if it destroys me. The irony…you’ve pushed me away to not ruin yourself…at the cost of ruining me.”

“You’re great.” Dieter shakes his head, shame filling him at what you’ve said because it’s true. “I do want you - that’s what scared me. I’ve never-“ he blows out a sigh. “I’ve never had someone that is so easy to be with. You talked to me like I’m a normal person, spent time with me. Touched me and not because I’m ‘Dieter Bravo’.” He shakes his head. “I was already thinking about how I could get you to spend more time with me and when I saw the mark- I fucked up and freaked out.”

You stare at him, “yeah you fucked up.” You tell him after several moments and he swallows harshly, hand lifting towards you until he drops it. “You fucked up but you’re standing here on my doorstep and all I want to do is pull you close and breathe you in. My body feels like I can’t get close enough to you. The mark burns and I- I can’t and it’s all your fault because I’m scared you’re going to reject me again. When you’ve gotten more sex, or just more time, what’s gonna stop you from deciding it’s over again and leaving me. Especially if I know what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna fall for you. I’m gonna fall so damn hard and you’re going to hurt me because you’re going be scared of what could happen.”

“What if it’s a good thing?” Dieters heart clenches and he knows you aren’t going to give him another chance. “What if it’s the best thing that ever fucking happens to us?” Tears start to pool in his eyes and he shakes his head. “Ruining me for someone else? For drugs? I didn’t -I won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He drops down to his knees, the mark burning so badly that he’s hissing in pain and grabbing it. “I want to make it up to you. To- to try. To have you- look at me like you did before I saw the fucking mark. I- shit-“ he scrunches up his face and nearly sobs. “I think I fell in love with you already.”

You drop to your knees, reaching for his forearm so you can trace the mark with your fingers, watching him relax instantly, and your eyes flick up to meet his. “Just because we are soulmates doesn’t mean we won’t argue or hurt each other sometimes. That’s life. Shit happens but I- I want to try.” You’re forgiving him and you know he regrets what happened. It should’ve been a happy moment and he ruined it. “I want you Dieter. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.” You let go of his forearm so you can cup his cheeks, “I think I already love you but that’s crazy, right?”

His lip trembles and he searches your eyes hopefully, not seeing the rejection he knows he had given you. “Not crazy.” He insists, lunging forward and pressing his lips to yours desperately. Moaning when you don’t push him away, and his hands come up and cups your cheek and the back of your head.

Home. That’s the only way you can describe his kiss. It’s like coming home. You sigh against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and you sigh when his tongue slides against yours. It’s like the stress has melted away and you’re where you belong. Kissing Dieter Bravo in your hallway, kneeling on the floor.

Once you’ve let him touch you, it’s like he can’t stop. Pulling away and kissing your cheeks, nose, forehead and chin in a random, scattered pattern. “I’m sorry.” Whispered over and over again as he tries to make up for the hours of agony he’s put you through.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You promise, pressing your lips to his. You want to feel him close and pressed against you. “Dieter, baby, I need you.” You want him to reassure you that he wants you, you need it like you need oxygen. You pull back, shifting to stand up and you hold your hand out towards him, “come on baby.”

He takes your hand, wondering if he is imagining things. Are you talking about sex? Is he that lucky that you understand that he is a physical person? “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll do whatever.” He promises, pushing to his feet and trailing along behind you like an eager puppy.

You guide him to your bedroom, your bed is messy and you fluster but turning to look at Dieter, his loving look making your embarrassment fade away. “I want you. I need you.” You declare, letting go of his hand so you can lean in, pressing your lips to his and you slide your hands down his chest, playing with the hem of his ratty shirt.

Dieter groans, euphoric at the need that he hears in your voice. “I need you too, baby.” He promises, his cock starting to harden instantly now that he’s gotten your forgiveness. His own hands grip your waist and slide around to squeeze your ass playfully. “I need to make this up to you with orgasms.” He murmurs, leaning in and nipping your jaw.

You pull his shirt over his head, forcing him back, and you immediately trace his tattoos, fingers caressing his skin while he leans in to kiss along your neck, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head. “Lots of orgasms.” You remind him and he chuckles, nodding his head,

“You can sit on my face.” He offers, immediately reaching for your bra so he can touch your tits. “Want you to sit on my face. Smother me in your pussy.”

You let him remove your bra, excited to feel his tongue again and you reach for his pants, wanting to see all of him again. “Dieter. I want you naked.” You demand, pushing the sweatpants down to expose his hard cock. “Shit. This is mine.” You exhale in awe, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“Yours, baby.” He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he lets you pump his cock. “All yours, you’ve got the best pussy. Best pussy I’ve ever fucked. Jesus.” He pants when you press your thumb against the leaking head. “Lay down, I want to lick my pussy. Want to make you cum all over me.” He begs, wanting you to feel good. “Does- is your mark still burning?”

“No. It’s not burning anymore.” You moan at his words, reluctantly letting go of his cock and you push your shorts down, standing naked in front of him. He groans and shifts to guide you over to the bed. “I thought I was riding your face.” You remind him and he nods, laying down. You shift to kneel on the bed, straddling his chest and he grabs your ass, dragging you up to hover over his face.

“Fuck, look at that pussy.” Dieter groans, watching your cunt flutter as you move towards his mouth. “Gonna make you feel so good.” He promises right before he drags your hips down and lunges forward so he can flatten his tongue through your folds with a filthy groan.

The moan you let out is loud, full of relief, and almost desperate as his tongue slides through your folds. He’s hungry, eager to please and make up for his mistake, and you grind down onto his face, hissing when he sucks your clit into his mouth. “Oh shit, Dieter. So- so good baby. You’re such a good boy.” You praise him, grinding down onto his face and you grip your headboard.

He shudders under you, letting the tangy taste of your cunt explode in his mouth as he greedily laps at you. With the right encouragement, Dieter is giving, submissive like now. Your praising moans fuel the need to hear more with every swipe of his tongue and he pulls your ass cheeks apart and pulls you up so he can run his tongue from your clit to your puckered hole.

“Fuck!” You gasp out, not expecting that but fuck you like that. You rock on his tongue so he pushes it into your tight muscle and you whine his name. “Oh God, that feels so good.” You moan and he slides his tongue into your cunt, walls fluttering around the muscle.

Dieter chuckles as he starts tongue fucking you. Wanting you to cum and his tongue to be the one to do it. To make up for the pain he had caused. Caressing your hip, he can’t believe that he almost let his beautiful soulmate get away because he was a fucking idiot. Encouraging you to rock on his tongue, Dieter whines, his cock fully hard and leaking against the soft swell of his belly and he wishes he could jerk off while he eats you out.

You moan his name, rocking onto his tongue and you look over your shoulder to see his leaking cock. Unable to stop yourself, you reach back to wrap your fingers around his length, starting to jerk him as much as possible while he works you up towards your orgasm. “Fuck Diet- I - You’re gonna make me cum.”

You cry out when he sucks your clit harder, making you moan his name as you shake. Thighs pressed against his cheeks, you cum with a cry out his name, your grip on his cock slackening as pleasure overtakes your senses.

He whines as you soak his face, loving it. Greedily slurping down as much as he can as you coat his face in your slick. Pouting when you pull your hips back, your hand letting go of his cock when the sensations get too much for you. Dieter pants, looking up at you completely pussy drunk and he caresses your thigh as you sit on his chest.

“Holy fuck.” You pant, appreciating the best orgasm of your life. You shuffle back, leaning down to press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth, and you moan when he grabs your hips, using his weight to roll you onto your back. He pulls back to look down at you, a silly smile on his face.

“Hi.” He whispers and you chuckle, reaching up to playfully tug on his earring, “hi.” You whisper back and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, his cock against your thigh.

You spread your legs wider, letting him know what you want, and he kisses your lips for a few moments. “Baby please. Need you inside of me.”

It’s music to his ears, grinning as he shuttles his hips back slowly so he can line up. “You’re wet.” He groans as he pushes forward just an inch, burying the head of his cock inside you. “I like that.” This time, he takes his time and keeps his eyes open, watching you as he slowly slides into your cunt, sinking deep until his hips are grinding into you as he feels like he’s in your guts. “Fuuuuuuck.”

You lose your ability to speak and his groan does you justice as you nod, mouth open in silent agreement. He feels so fucking good it’s ridiculous. Stretching you out yet he doesn’t hurt, he’s made for you and you for him. “Fuck baby.” You eventually gasp, feeling his cock twitch deep is deep of you. “You feel - oh God. Amazing. Fucking amazing.”

“Fucking a-amazing.” He pants out in agreement, starting to slowly rock in and out of you. “So good baby, my soulmate is so good.” He turns his head and presses his lips to yours. Needing to be as close as possible to you. Loving how your arms wind around him, pulling him closest to you.

You caress his shoulders and back, playfully reaching down to squeeze his ass, pushing him deeper inside of you somehow to push against your clit. “Fuck that’s good.” You moan and he repeats the action, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

It takes nothing more to spur him on. Holding his weight over you and starting to grind into you just like you want. “Love you.” He chokes out, starting to chant it every time he pushes deep. “Love you, love you.”

Your heart pounds at his words, your head knowing it’s crazy to feel this way about a man you’ve only known for less than a day. Your nails dig into his back as he fucks you how you want, “I love you. I love you.” You moan and wrap your legs around his waist, getting even closer and the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs you just right, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

Dieter keens, gritting his teeth and unable to stop himself from cumming. The vice grip on his cock along with the liquid heat of your cum pushes himself over the edge. He pushes deep and collapses on top of you, grinding his hips with small whines of your name as he floods your walls with his cum again, this time having every intention of staying right where he is after he’s done.

You caress his shoulders, sliding your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. He pushes his cum deep and he rocks himself through his orgasm and you kiss his jaw, letting him catch his breath. “I’ve never felt like this before. So complete.”

He closes his eyes, and hums, his lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Soooo complete.” He mumbles, tucking his face against your neck and promising himself that he’s going to sleep just like this. “So good, baby, so fucking good.” He sighs, body relaxed and he giggles slightly when your hand runs down his back and finds a ticklish spot right above his ribs.

You chuckle, kissing his hair as you tickle that spot again. “You wanna sleep like this?” You ask and he whines in agreement, cock now soft inside of you. “I’m exhausted.” You confess, knowing you barely slept. He shifts so his weight is off of you, moving you onto your side and your leg is thrown over his hip. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow is the start of the rest of our lives.” You promise and Dieter knows that would’ve scared the shit out of him but now he’s excited for the future. The psychic was right, you have ruined him. In the best fucking way possible.

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