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seeingivy · 4 months

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intimacy

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part linked here

sukuna wakes up three hours later to the bright light of your phone, and more distinctively, your right hand in his hair, brushing his pink locks away from his forehead. he blinks the sleep out of his eyes properly to find you sitting criss crossed within the sheets, hunched over on your phone, with your face scrunched up in frustration.

he half considers not broaching why you’re awake at this hour just to ensure that your touch wouldn’t cease. that you’d continue tangling your fingers with his hair.

“what’s your problem?” he asks.

you retreat your hand from his hair, wincing as you mumble out your apology. sukuna muses that you were almost getting too predictable.

“did i wake you up?” you ask.

sukuna scoots closer to you on the bed, before lifting one of your legs to readjust himself. he’s settled himself right in between the softness of your thighs, before he reaches for your hand again and sets it back into his hair.

you swallow commenting on how needy he is as you comb through the tresses of his hair, noting how he seems to soften into your legs the more pressure you apply.

“what’s so important on your phone that you’re interrupting my sleep?” he mumbles.

“sorry. was just texting megumi. i was supposed to call yuuji when he got home but it kind of slipped my mind.” you respond, before setting your phone down into the sheets and placing your other hand into his hair too.

“something distracting you?”

sukuna grins as he flips over, lifting his head to rest his chin against your stomach. he places a kiss to your clothed skin before giving you a sleepy smile.

“clearly.” you respond.

“he’s okay?”

“yeah. i’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“nothing i could help him with i suppose. no one understands shitty older siblings like the two of you.”

you tense underneath him, enough for him to wish he minced his words. sukuna knew that broaching any part of that, of something almost sacred between yuuji was something he couldn’t push you on. though it wasn’t hard to deduce - your horrid attempts at whispering in the kitchen weren’t lost to him.

“hey. he loves you. it’s not like that.”

“what was it he said? sitting all high and mighty?”

you sigh, and enough for sukuna to properly open his eyes and sit up.

“i’m joking.” he adds.

sukuna can tell his words aren’t enough. it usually takes very little, a mix of sweet talking to settle you down, which makes him happier than he can admit. only because it indicates to him that his words can hold so much weight, especially to you.

“i mean it. you guys are well past that. have been since you came back.” you murmur.

sukuna knows that you’re right. that despite the fact that yuuji never talked to sukuna in the four years he was gone, despite his best efforts to reach out, their relationship was nearly repaired the second he made it back to tokyo. and it means more since the two of them getting along would mean something to you now.

sukuna left when he was sixteen and made his best efforts not to regret it now.

behind everyone’s backs, he had taken an early exit out of his required schooling and applied to a four year boarding school in europe. he had only dropped the news to everyone five days before he left, in efforts to not let the crippling sense of servitude he felt towards his family hold him back.

“were you mad i left?” he murmurs, pushing up on his elbows, his breath tickling your neck.

“no.”

“did you miss me?” he asks.

it’s a selfish question. sukuna knows that the answer should be no. that it is no. but he’ll pretend your honey sweet answer, laced with a lie, is true for the night. that you’ll tell him exactly what he wants to hear - that you thought of him constantly when you left.

“i was sad you left without saying goodbye. but i was too busy worrying about my own sister and all that.”

sukuna can tell the answer is honest. and it’s satiating enough to know that you had noted it, that you were hurt that he hadn’t given you more importance before he made his escape. that you wanted to be important to him.

“is that why you haven’t told yuuji? that we’re dating? breaks some secret pact you both have?”

you smile.

“are we dating?” you whisper.

sukuna lightly pushes you over, before leaning on top of you and nuzzling his face into your arms. his legs are tangled to the side, his pressure soothing on your chest.

“are you seeing other guys i don’t know about?” he asks.

“of course.” you joke.

sukuna brings his hand down on your neck, his one hand sliding around the length of your neck. he squeezes slightly and you feign choking before he rolls his eyes.

“shut up, brat.”

“well. you never asked. you can’t just decide we’re dating.” you state.

“i won’t ask.” he mumbles.

“ask.” you prod.

“no.”

“ask me!”

“i already decided we were dating a long time ago. catch up.”

you figure that if sukuna can test you, push your buttons to get what he wants, so can you. and you imagine that it’ll be infinitely easier, that it’ll take less work from you when he’s barely awake. you bring your hands around his cheeks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“please?” you whisper.

sukuna groans.

“be my girlfriend.” he states.

“that’s not asking.”

“y/n.”

“c’mon.” you prod.

he glares at you.

“be. my girlfriend.” he repeats, more sternly.

“cute. but no.” you respond.

sukuna glares for three seconds and you cave.

“sorry! i’m sorry. fine. i was just messing with you so i’d feel better.” you respond, to which he releases his gaze.

he pauses.

“do you need to feel better?”

“hm?”

if you’re upset, that’s certainly one thing he can fix.

“do you need me to make you feel good?” he asks.

it’s something that’s been on your mind, more frequently than not. and it lingers for too long, that feeling that you’re denying him something, that there’s something he’s waiting for that you haven’t yet delivered.

yuuji talks. so does megumi. and the two years of highschool that you got with sukuna were enough.

sukuna was always an overachiever, as he so poignantly coined it. he was smart. smart enough to graduate early even, to get into an exchange program and get out of the suburbs. he was athletic, his attitude towards teachers was viewed as charming rather than plucky, and obviously he wasn’t short of being attractive, of having girls interested in him.

you distinctly remember his first school dance when you were a eighth grader. or more importantly, that sukuna was dressed up in a tux, having his tie fixed by his mom while you and yuuji quietly watched him attend the senior prom. as a sophomore.

yuuji mentioned that sukuna always seemed to be sleeping around, something corroborated by the fact that he was almost always talking to a different girl almost every time you saw him. megumi thought he was trashy even.

but here he was, being patient, being painstakingly patient, that it only felt right. that you had to reward him for it.

“okay. sure.”

sukuna’s fully awake now, his eyes meeting yours as you feel a shiver go down your spine.

“are you okay with this?”

“yeah. yeah, i am.”

“and you’ll tell me to stop if you stop being okay with it?” he states.

you give him a nod, slightly embarrassed that it was something he had to confirm. like he knew you were going to chicken out of it.

“i need to hear you say it.” he whispers.

“i will.” you mumble.

you’re almost positive that sukuna doesn’t do this with every other girl he’s been with - something confirmed in your mind by the fact that sukuna’s so gentle, his touch is so perfect, that you feel you’re never going to be able to let go of him. and can’t imagine that other people have let him slip out of his grasp.

it’s not too different from the other times sukuna’s touched you - something he tends to always be doing. he’s more affectionate than you expected, for someone who was so reserved, so stern in almost every memory you have of him.

but he uses endearments, pet names almost every time he talks to you - currently whispering words that make your entire body heat up, almost more than his hands on you.

“my pretty baby’s so wound up. let me fix that for you, hm?”

his words were almost enough to make your entire body heat up more than his hands. key word, almost. but there was something about his touch, so soft, firm in different places that it made you nearly limp in his arms.

his hands were in your hair, on your legs just to pull you closer to him, resting on your cheeks when he kissed you. your predictions suggested to you that sukuna would have bored out, tired from just kissing you when you had given him full permission for the first time, but he wouldn’t let up, making it a point to kiss every patch of skin he could.

it’s only then that it occurs to you that you haven’t touched him. you lift your hands, before freezing them in the air, unable to do it. but the shifting is enough to make sukuna stop.

“you still okay?”

“yeah. yeah, i was just-” you respond, catching your breath as he smiles.

“your hands were up. you can push me off if it gets to be too much.” he whispers, pulling back.

“no. no, i was…i was going to touch you. just got shy for a second…”

sukuna grins at you, before leaning his forehead against yours. he tries his best to ground himself in the moment, realizing he was going too fast, getting too carried away too quickly.

he can smell the remnants of your shampoo in your hair, focusing in on it, before he settles both of his hands into the crooks of each of your elbows.

“you can touch me.” he murmurs.

“okay. you-you’ll stop me right? if you feel weird?” you ask.

sukuna laughs.

“i can’t imagine i’d ever do that, but yes. i will stop you.”

you give him a satisfied nod, as you reach forward and scoot into his lap. his hands instinctively reach for your waist, holding you steady, as you inspect his tattoos in the dim light of the dark.

you reach forward and trace your fingers all the way down. you had only seen them peeking out from the collar of his shirt here and there, but this was your chance to look at them properly.

“did you get these all at the same time?” you ask.

“no. most of them are from when i was gone. this one right here-”

he guides your hand to the left side of your chest, placing your palm flat against his beating heart before letting go.

“-was right when i came back.”

“s’pretty. you’re pretty.” you mumble.

you instinctively squeeze, before the two of you quietly laugh.

“did you just cop a feel?” sukuna asks.

“maybe. seemed squishy.”

“and was it?”

“no. it was really underwhelming.” you respond, earning another laugh from him.

it’s almost too gratifying, the smaller things - making him laugh, seeing him smile. it was so rare to see it before and the fact that he does it for you, does it so freely, is enough to make your stomach fill with an embarrassing amount of warmth.

“your turn?” he asks, voice so low you can barely hear it.

you nod, that biting wave of anxiety instantly hitting you when sukuna’s hands slither under your tank top. his lips find their way back to yours, his breath heavy on your face as you try to swallow it down and let him keep going.

sukuna makes every effort to drag this on for as long as he can, for multiple reasons. so that your standards were never lowered, so that you’d never settle for callous hands and shitty guys in bars - not that he’d ever think you’d talk to anyone but him ever again. that he’d let anyone else see you like this.

sukuna felt like he was slowly figuring you out like you were the back of his hand. you always seemed to be withholding something, almost like it was a wall right there with him in the room, but that let him in when he knocked. and right now, he had every intent to make you feel good. to reward you for trusting him. to savor you.

he notices the trembling when he brings his hands up to your chest, when he lets them linger for too long. it’s so slight, almost in par with your breathing, but he notices it and immediately pulls back.

“are you still okay?” he asks.

the hesitation in your response is enough of an answer for him. he swallows down the dry patch in his throat - nearly cursing himself for going too far, too fast with you exactly where he knew you were reserved - before he brings his hands up to your cheeks, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“what can i do?” he whispers.

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to, it was-”

“tell me how to make it better. what do you need right now?”

it’s almost embarrassing to ask for it. to make him overextend, to attend to you when you were the one who ruined the moment. and it felt increasingly stupid for you to push your own boundaries too, that you were going to scare him off now.

“please.” he whisper.

you look up to find his brown eyes, washed over in concern, as he cups the left side of your face. it’s enough to push you.

“do you have a shirt i can wear? this just feels too…”

“yes. do you need a long sleeve or-”

“short is okay.”

“do you need me to wear one too?” he asks.

you sigh.

“could you? i just feel…”

before you can even finish your sentence, sukuna’s pushed himself off the bed and rummages quickly through his closet before he returns. he snags his own shirt over his neck before sitting back down on the bed in front of you, his voice soft.

“arms up, pretty girl.”

you oblige, as sukuna pulls the shirt over you, his hands shaking as he dutifully attends to you. he’s pulling the sleeves down to your elbows, the fabric drowning every inch of your body as he readjusts it.

the two of you sit in silence, your hand curled into his as you try to muster out the best words to say. to selfishly, keep him around you.

“i’m not very good at this intimacy type of thing. i-i’m not sure if you’ve noticed.”

some part of your guard is down. the curious part of him wants to push, to crawl all the way in and never leave. but he makes his best efforts. to remain persistent in letting you make the calls here.

“explain.”

“i just mean. you always kiss me first. and-and you kiss me a lot. i really like it, but sometimes i think it’s weird if i initiate it first. like-like it’ll keep going.”

“i’ll always kiss you back, if that’s what you mean…”

“no. no, it’s…it’s kind of embarrassing to admit. like logically, i know it won’t happen. but you’re a guy. you…you have lots of experience and you obviously like to do things like this. a lot of people do. it-it’s normal. but sometimes i feel, in the moment, like i’m not ready to do all of that yet. to go farther…”

sukuna understands. he pulls his hand under your chin, using the knuckles of his pointer finger to guide your line of vision back to him.

“you call the shots. always.”

“i know.”

“i don’t expect anything from you. if you just want to kiss me, i am more than happy to just kiss you, y/n.” he whispers.

you can feel the tears in your eyes at sukuna’s tone. and the way his face falls at the sight of your tears is enough to make you fully cry.

“princess. who’s got you thinking like this?” he murmurs.

sukuna’s not one for words. though it seems he seems to always have the ones that fit just right. his thumbs are brushing away the wetness on your cheek, before he leans down and presses a kiss to your nose.

“you know that i’m more experienced than you. so will you give weight to my words when i say them?”

“okay.”

“intimacy can mean lots of things. having sex is intimacy, sure. that’s a no brainer. but…there’s so much more to it. i can promise you, you aren’t bad at being intimate with me.”

“really?”

it’s the fact that it's three in the morning. that’s what sukuna will pin it on tomorrow. why he feels the need, why it feels so easy to talk so freely with you. that and the fact that he feels the need to lick each and every one of your wounds, to smooth over the rough patches.

“i felt close to you at the dinner last night. when you were holding my hand under the table. you squeezed really hard when your mom was hurting your feelings, almost like you were trying to tell you that it made you upset…that’s intimacy to me.”

“are you trying to butter me up? don’t make stuff up.” you jokingly respond, earning a wide smile from him.

“you were relying on me. telling me something. that’s intimate.”

he reaches forward, pulling the hair out of the collar of the shirt before tucking it behind your ears.

“i know that’s hard for you to do. i appreciate it when you can do that, when you trust me.”

you swallow hard, before putting your hand back where it was resting before, over the beating of his heart.

“i trust you. just…give me time to figure out the words?”

“it’s not a race. i’m not planning on going anywhere.”

"promise?" you ask, holding out your pinkie to him.

you watch his eye twitch.

"i'm not going to do a fucking pinkie promise."

the two of you laugh and it's enough to make your cheeks hurt.

it’s solidified one thing in your mind. that look in his eyes, the way he tucks you into him before his stupid teasing voice lulls you to sleep.

that you have to tell yuuji the first chance you get.

next part linked here

an: right. well.

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the-witty-pen-name · 1 month

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Love is Blind (Part 3)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts (part 4), reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, descriptions of bullying & people being jerks but like also very overdone tropes, mentions of smut

A/N: Please let me know if you liked it!! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to fangirl with me over these two because I cannot stand them at this point. LOL Or if you want to share any ideas/predictions for upcoming parts with me or other ideas for future stories with Eddie, I would love to hear them. Also, if I forgot to include a warning that should be included, please let me know!

Series Masterlist

“Eddie.”

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Earth to Eddie.”

“EDDIE.”

“Shit! Sorry,” he says, breaking out of his thoughts and coming back to reality. He stares at his notes in his DM folder and he literally has no idea where the campaign has left off. He clears his throat and awkwardly flips through the pages. “Umm..”

“We just made it to the fishing town and we were tasked by a local merchant to kill a sea serpent that’s poisoning the local fish in exchange for..”

“Oh yeah,” he interjects, grabbing the correct script he needs to continue. “Uh, did you roll..?”

“Are you kidding me, man! What the hell?” Gareth exclaims, exasperated. “What’s wrong with you today?”

Eddie’s face turns pink, shaking his head and ignoring the question. He was not going to admit to being distracted. He’s not embarrassed to talk to the guys about you, but he hasn’t told anyone he signed up for the study. He didn’t want to admit he was desperate or lonely, he’s too proud. He knows his friends don’t care, but it’s a mental block he can’t pass.

“Nothing, I’m good. Just let it go,” he says defensively.

“No way. Fucking spill it,” Jeff laughs.

Eddie racks his mind for the most sane way to answer their questions. He sighs, pushing a mess of his curly hair out of his face.

“Who is she?” Gareth asks, raising an eyebrow.

***

DAY FOUR

“I’m mad at you,” Eddie says, and you roll your eyes.

“What did I do now?” You ask, playful sarcasm evident in your voice.

“You’re throwing me off my game”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“Obviously because I’m really cool and popular,” he jokes, “I’m a Dungeon Master as you know.”

“Yup, I’m familiar,” you toy.

“My friends called my ass out so many times last night for not paying attention and I kept fucking up.”

“I don’t appreciate you pinning this on me,” you chuckle. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Lies!” He says in a bravado. “You are the distraction! You have managed to weasel your way into every aspect of mind- I hope you’re proud of yourself. I’m probably going to be dethroned. My reign is over.”

You bite your bottom lip, to hold back the goofy smile you know is creeping over your whole face. Never before has anyone made you feel like this. The notebook to keep track of other “dates” is long forgotten. You only want to continue talking to Eddie. You wonder if any of the other people you spoke to felt a connection this strong. You’re dying to know if there are other people who feel as good as you right now.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask shyly. You can hear the way it makes Eddie stop in his tracks. You assume he wears some sort of chain on his pants cause you can hear it when he paces, but suddenly, his end of the wall falls silent.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asks, suddenly sounding shy.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I could go the cheesy, romantic, ‘I was thinking about you’ way- which is true. Or, I could be brutally honest because ‘I was thinking about you’ in this context has much more implications than that.”

“You’re confusing me,” you laugh, “just tell me.”

“Do you ever fantasize about when we get out of here? In like, a you know-”

“Like sexually?” you ask, throwing him a bone. He was drowning.

“Yeah,” he admits, and you can hear the chain on his pant leg as he fidgets.

“Yes,” you answer honestly, “I do.”

“I think about it all the time,” he says, the confession spilling out, “The fact that I can’t touch you is driving me fucking insane. It’s not even like just like the thought of getting to fuck you- it’s like being close to you and like feeling your body heat, or like the weight of you sitting on my lap, what it feels like to just touch your skin- just everything that we’re being denied. I don’t even have a visual in my head to go off of it’s just like- I don’t know, man…”

You wince at the mention of sitting on his lap. “I don’t know if you’d want me on your lap for a long time..,” you sound defeated.

“Um, don’t speak for me,” he cuts you off, playfully. “Any man who doesn’t want the full weight of his woman on his lap is a fucking idiot. Ugh, I don’t even think you understand just how amazing it is. I don’t care if you try to fight me on this, princess. You’re sitting on me, and I will love every second of it.”

“I’m not thin, Eddie,” you whisper, feeling defeated. You hear him blow a raspberry and then he knocks on the wall.

“I… don’t… care,” he emphasizes by drawing out each word. “You need to believe me. I couldn’t care less about your weight, your height, your hair… whatever it is. I like you! And that means I like every part of you.”

His voice begins to raise, like he is yelling up, “If these fuckers would realize we’re done already and let me out.” He then lowers his voice like he’s looking back to the wall. “I want you. The experiment fucking works, I wish I could show you what you do to me cause maybe then it’ll finally stick. I’m going out of my mind that I can’t touch you and show you how much I want you, your body, everything. Do you need me to spell it out?”

“Would you have still found me attractive if we met outside of this experiment?” you ask, “I bet you wouldn’t have even looked my way if you saw me at a bar or something.”

“Sweetheart,” he coaxes, “absolutely. I know that I would’ve been annoying the shit out of you for your number. You’d have been the one to reject me, I guarantee it.”

“I would have never,” you reply.

“So if it’s possible for you to know that you wouldn't have rejected me without seeing me,” Eddie muses, “why can’t you believe the same for me?”

“You haven’t asked me a single thing about my appearance,” he continues, “Do you care how much I weigh? Do you care if I’m short?”

“Not at all. I haven’t thought about it,” you admit.

“I haven’t either. Now, please let me have my fantasy of you sitting on my lap please,” he whines, “I need something to get me through the day, Christ.” You laugh at his fake annoyance.

You’re so happy at how he’s able to talk you down. It amazes you how he’s able to see through the insecurities and brings you back down to Earth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, settling back into the couch and getting comfortable. You rest your head back.

“I don’t know, basically, we’re in the middle of the campaign- I literally spent weeks writing it,” he continues, “and I literally just can’t stop thinking about how amazing it would be if you were there. I’m just sitting there, thinking about what it would feel like to just have you sitting on my lap while we’re playing and then I’m thinking about how I want to feel lean back on me and I’d have my arm around your waist holding you, and maybe I’d rub little circles on the side of your thigh and I thought about how soft you probably feel and then suddenly I’m sporting the most embarrassing boner which thankfully no one saw- Fuck, this is what you’re doing to me.”

***

“Is there any way to end the trial early?” Eddie asks, sitting in the interview room. There’s a man putting a pulse oximeter on his right index finger and another testing his blood pressure with a monitor on his left side.

Two other technicians sit across from Eddie, taking notes from Eddie’s answers on a clipboard. They have tested his levels of dopamine and norepinephrine. They’re taking extensive notes on Eddie’s physical reactions to you, and the same is done to all of the candidates- including you. They continue to ignore Eddie’s questions as they ramble on about his levels of oxytocin.

“In order for us to gather all of the information necessary, this isn’t possible,” one of them finally answers.

“But I’m telling you how I feel- I’m telling you it works,” he insists.

“Mr. Muson,” one says, closing a file folder that contains his charts. “This is a study in brain chemistry. You agreed to participate for the designated number of days and in exchange you’d receive compensation. Your conversations between yourself and the other candidates is not our business, nor what you choose to do afterwards. Our job here is to collect data, not the details of your personal life.”

“I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls off the oximeter and grabs his jean jacket. He walks out, despite their protests, flipping them off as he goes. He couldn’t care less about the lousy $200. As far as he was concerned, they poked and prodded the two of you enough.

Of course, he did show up the next day. Promptly with a big grin on his face, he walked in with a happy go-lucky attitude that the entire lab team was secretly sick of dealing with. These sudden outbursts and dramatic tirades were becoming a staple of Eddie’s interviews and they equally couldn’t wait to be done with him.

***

DAY FIVE

“Are these dice?” You ask with a chuckle, opening the small, black velvet bag that’s been left for you on the table in the room. You empty the bag out into your hand and watch as the dice roll into your palm one at a time. They’re all red and shimmer as you move them around in your cupped hand.

“Well, I wanted you to have them,” you hear his voice explain from the other side of the wall. You’re beaming as you carefully pour them back into the bag and tie it off.

“This is so sweet, Eds,” you marvel. “I love them.”

“I also brought my guitar and like in a non-douchebag way I was kind of hoping to play something for you,” he says, his guitar perched on his lap. “I’ve just been working on this song and I wanted your opinion on it.”

It's surprisingly soft sounding. You were expecting heavy guitar, something really metal based on what Eddie has told you about his music taste and his band. It’s slower paced, like a dreamy, slow rock ballad.

You wished you could see him, observe how he looks when he’s concentrating or how his fingers look strumming against the cords. You just know he has the most beautiful hands. You imagine his fingers and try to visualize them flexing as he strums. You’re so distracted by it that you almost miss him singing a verse.

“It’s not done yet,” he prefaces, still strumming. “I’m still working on the lyrics so don’t think too much about them, just like the meaning and the melody you know?”

“Yeah totally,” you hum in agreement. “I think it sounds great.” He smiles at the praise.

***

Before

You anxiously sit by the front window, peeking out between the blinds occasionally. You smooth out the skirt of the new dress your mom bought you, and you make sure your hair is still how you requested. Your mom let you wear makeup and you picked eyeshadow that matches your dress and you feel like a million bucks. It’s your ninth grade formal, and the star of the JV basketball team asked you to be his date.

The minutes tick by and the time changes from reasonably late to stood up. You still hold out hope, and reject your parents' offers to just drive you to the dance. It’s been 45 minutes now, and you still hoped he’d be there. It was long past an hour that you admitted that he wasn’t coming.

The following Monday you learned the whole thing was a prank, and he never wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s in the school paper that he’s at the dance, dancing cheek to cheek with one of the cheerleaders, who you can’t help but compare yourself to.

***

Eddie is sitting at the middle school cafeteria table alone. He’s about a hundred pages into the Hobbit and the crusts of his peanut butter sandwich are forgotten about on the crinkly brown paper bag Uncle Wayne packed his lunch in. He’s long forgotten he’s sitting alone, far too engrossed in the story to care, when suddenly his head is yanked back by someone tugging on his t-shirt.

“What’s up, Freak?” the voice asks before shoving Eddie back towards the table. He catches himself on the edge before his head comes in contact with the surface. He winces as anger boils up inside him. The three jocks laugh amongst themselves until a familiar voice shoos them away.

“Sorry about them,” she says apologetically as Eddie looks to see her. Chrissy. He notices how she glances from him to the cafeteria table where the cheerleaders sit, and Eddie knows she doesn’t want to be seen with him for too long.

“You can go, I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing a laugh to make her feel better. “But, uh, I wanted to ask you-”

“Okay, thanks,” she says, cutting him off and practically skipping to sit next to the prick who shoved him. Eddie recoils as the jock’s arm wraps around her. Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up to have lunch outside. Along with the remains of his lunch, he shoves the necklace he meant to give her in the bin. He’d stayed up past his bedtime, Wayne showing him how to drill a small hole into the top of one of his guitar picks to put a metal jewelry loop through so it could be put on a silver chain.

***

You’re sitting at the table in the dimly lit restaurant and sipping on your cocktail when you see him walk in. He matches the description your friend gave you, and you feel yourself smile at how cute he is- definitely living up to the hype. Your friend spent weeks convincing you to go out on this date- one of her boyfriend’s best friends. They’re in the same fraternity.

You can see as he walks into the dining room, he’s looking around trying to find his date. You offer a smile when he makes eye contact, and you offer a small wave.

“James?” You ask, “you’re exactly like how Donna described you.” He offers a polite closed lipped smile, and a nod, taking a seat across from you without saying anything.

As the date continues, you notice you’re doing a lot of the talking. You ask him questions and you’re met with a lot of one word answers. He looks detached, checking his watch and his attention seems to be wandering throughout the restaurant at anything but you. By the time your entrees arrive, he yawns.

“I’m sorry, did I do something or say something?” you ask, hesitantly.

“No, no you’re good,” he says, straightening his posture like it would correct the behavior he’s been exhibiting.

He pays for dinner, and you ask if he’d like to do this again sometime (just to be polite, you knew it was going nowhere). He sucks in air from between his teeth, and lets out an exhale.

“You’re a nice person,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets as he waits for the valet to bring his car. “I’m sorry, but you aren’t really my type. Tom didn’t tell me anything about you really. I just felt like we didn’t click.” You notice the way his eyes scan your body, the unspoken awkwardness of you knowing what he isn’t saying. You nod, and say strained goodbyes as he gets in his car. You wished you were more surprised.

***

Eddie is met with dirty looks when he approaches a girl at the bar. He feels her eyes on his tattoos and on his clothes, judging him. He sees her friend, who's also looking at him, lean in and whisper something and they both laugh. He knows the joke is on him, yet again.

He opts to hang where he is, leaning against one of the high top tables, when he watches another guy approach her. He’s muscular, of course he is, and Eddie looks down at his own torso in comparison as this guy’s abs strain his shirt. Eddie scoffs, but now feels incredibly insecure at how his own shirt hangs loosely on his figure.

***

DAY SIX

“Are you still worried about tomorrow?” Eddie asks, playing haphazardly with his rings as he sits with his forearms rested on his thighs.

“A little,” you admit sheepishly. “Are you?”

“More excited than nervous,” he replies honestly. “This whole thing has been fucking wild,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Insane,” you agree, laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“I just wanted to ask, no pressure,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “Uh the other day, when we talked about, you know- what’s gonna happen when we see each other…”

“Yes?”

“You said to not hold back, I don’t remember exactly what it was but along the lines of ‘I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.’ Or something. I just want to make sure…”

“You don’t remember exactly, huh?” you tease.

“Is that still what you want?” he asks earnestly.

“Without a doubt,” you smile.

TAGLIST

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time @mewchiili @muamazon4 @1975lily @sadbitchfangirl @strangerthings36 @fanficfanatic000 @andrearose89 @sosawwycantrelate @animechick555

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carpenterswife · 2 months

Text

ALL MY GHOSTS (ii)

series masterlist

- summary: A normal, relaxing day with Beau turns into something quite the opposite, when a mysterious delivery of flowers shakes up your day. With Beau’s insistence that there’s nothing to worry about, you seek Denise and Cassie’s help to figure out the source of the strange gift.

- word count: 2601

- warnings: none

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“Beau, I swear to god—“ Your head lifted to glare at the sheriff, as he cackled at you for the 10th time since you’d sat down in his office. Like he’d predicted, the hangover from your drinking last night was bad, and he was very much enjoying the pained expression on your face.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’.” He defended himself, watching you with a lazy smirk. He toyed with his pen, elbows on his desk. Your glare deepened, and he chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He relented, finally ceasing his teasing. “You got anythin’?” He motioned to the case file you were looking over.

With a sigh, your attention returned to the words that seemed to be blurring together with your hangover. “It’s a weird one, that’s for sure.” You hummed, flipping through the pages of the file. You scratched your cheek as you thought, trying to put together what on Earth was going on with this case.

When Beau said he was struggling, you hadn’t been anticipating the case to literally make zero sense. But, the evidence was all over the place, and none of the witness statements seemed to match up. Honestly, it all just seemed like one big headache.

The Texan watched you for a few beats, clicking the pen in his hands. Finally, he hummed and sighed softly. ““Why don’t y’take it wit’ ya?” He suggested, dropping his pen down onto the desk with a soft clatter. “I could do with a break anyway. You wan’ come?”

You glanced up at him and began to smile. “A break sounds good.” You set the file down, watching as Beau stood up, stretching his arms over his head. Your eyes twinkled with amusement, holding back a teasing comment about him being an old man.

He hummed as he stretched. “Coffee?” He offered, grabbing his jacket from where it hung in the back of his chair. He glanced at you as he slid it on, already knowing what your answer would be. You never turned down coffee; especially not when you knew Beau would be paying for it.

“Mmm, I like coffee.” You joined him on your feet, smiling at the idea of a coffee on the cold day. He led the way out of the office, shutting and locking the door behind the pair of you. You waited patiently as he kicked the door. “I could use one with this damn headache. It’s like there’s a drill in my brain.”

He chuckled, amused by your complaining, pocketing his key. “That’s what happens when you down six shots in five minutes.” He teases, dodging the smack you tried to deliver to his shoulder, with a boyish grin on his face. Putting a gentle hand on the small of your back, he led you towards the door of the station. “I’m just sayin’… you wanna drink like that, you can’t complain ‘bout the hangover.”

“Whatever, Arlen. I remember you complaining about your hangover last week.” You reminded him, much to his dismay. He chuckled, muttering some sort of retaliation, that you met with a giggle.

A beat of silence passed as your giggles began to quieten.

Beau cleared his throat. “Hey.” The tone of his voice, suddenly serious, immediately caught your attention. You sent him a curious look. He held the door to the station open for you, waiting until you were both outside to continue. “Last night, when I went to help you stand, you… you, kind of, I guess, flinched.” Cold washed over you. “I was just wonderin’— I mean… is everythin’ alright?”

You plastered on a smile. “I’m jumpy.” Beau rose his brows, and you laughed softly. “Always have been. I’m good, Beau. Just easily startled, tha’s all.”

“Really?” He sounded doubtful. “‘Cause I’ve never seen you do somethin’ like that before.”

You just shrugged, nonchalant. “Dunno what to say, Arlen.” Once again, you laughed quietly, brushing the whole thing off. “Like I said, I’m just a jumpy person.” It was a shit lie.

God, you fucking hated lying to Beau.

Pulling open the passenger side door, he hummed, still looking like he didn’t quite believe you. “M’kay, darlin’.” He conceded. “You know you can talk to me, yeah?” His eyes travelled your face, taking in your expression, his concern clear.

You settled down on the passenger seat and smiled in reassurance. “I know.”

“And you will?” He gripped the door tightly. “If somethin’ is wrong, you’d come to me, yeah?” His worry was obvious, looking for anything in your expression that might give away what was wrong.

Your brows furrowed. “Of course I would, Beau.”

Pleased, he nodded once, shutting the door gently.

You leaned back in your seat, and took a deep, calming breath.

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“It’s illegal to feed wild animals in Montana.” Beau watched you toss food towards a couple of squirrels, amused by the (quite cute) sight. He held both of your coffees, breath coming out in white puffs of air.

“Everyone does it.” You defended yourself, standing straight. Turning back to him, you took your coffee back, smiling brightly. “Look at ‘em, Beau. They’re cute.” You motioned to the squirrels scampering up the tree.

He hummed. “And you just committed a crime in front of the Sheriff.” You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled. “You’re lucky I like ya.” He bumped your shoulder with his own.

The pair of you had gotten bored in the bustling coffee shop, and had decided a walk through the park would be more exciting than sitting around. It’d definitely proven to be, when you came across an elk, and Beau spent five whole minutes laughing hysterically as you yelped in terror and hid behind him.

How you’d survived in Montana for this long was beyond him.

“So,” you peeked up at him over your coffee, “you’re really staying in Helena, huh?”

He looked down at you, and began to smile. “Yeah.” He nodded, sipping on his coffee with a little shrug. “Texas is home,” he gazed around the park as they walked side-by-side, “but… Helena’s been feelin’ like home too recently.” He murmured thoughtfully.

You grinned and elbow his ribs gently. “It’s ‘cause you like me so much.”

He rolled his eyes, though there was evident fondness in his gaze. “I’m sure that’s it.” You scowled at his sarcasm, and his smile grew larger. He nudged you gently with his elbow. “You never told me why you stayed in Helena, y’know?”

“It’s ‘cause I don’t really have a reason.” You cradled your coffee and sighed, watching the white cloud of your breath dissipate. You shrugged loosely. “Came to town when my car broke down. It was the only place I could tow my car too. Met Jenny and Cassie, and ended up staying.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” He blew out a breathy chuckle. “I expected something far more… fantastical.” He smirked as he looked down at you, and continued his line of questioning. “Why’d you become a cop?”

You hesitated, and he caught it.

His expression became far more interested.

And then a lie slipped past your lips. “My dad was a cop.” You drank your coffee to swallow down your regret. Lying to Beau sucked. Mostly because he could always figure out you were lying. He could you like an open book, the utter asshole. “Guess it just runs in the family.”

Beau saw straight through your bullshit. It was obvious by the way his expression dimmed, lips thinning into a line. He just hummed in response and sipped his coffee. “I thought your dad was a criminal defense lawyer.” There was obvious disappointment in his voice, and it made your heart constrict.

This man was going to be the damn death of you.

You took another gulp of your coffee, willing your heart rate to slow. “Nah.” You shrugged. “Dunno where you got that from. Must be the old age.” You attempted a joke to distract him from the way you were lying to his face.

He faked a laugh, rolling his eyes at you. “Very funny, L/N.”

Beaming, you sipped your coffee and continued walking. Your shoes occasionally scuffed the ground. “It’s supposed to snow soon.” Your gaze turned to the cloudy sky.

Beau caught the change of subject, but went along with it, with the sole purpose of not wanting to push your boundaries. “Yeah.” He sipped his now-lukewarm coffee. “Supposed t’be bad this year, too. We’re gon’ have a hell of a time melting up snow an’ helping folks with digging out their cars.”

Looking up at him, you laughed alongside his chuckle. “More like digging up your crappy Jeep.”

He gasped as if he’d been personally offended. “Don’t talk about Pedro like that.” You giggled, and Beau’s eyes narrowed into a playful glare. “Pedro has been with me through tough times. He deserves respect.”

You snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh, okay.”

“Don’t give me that ‘uh-huh’ shit.” You burst into laughter at Beau’s reply. He huffed, lips curling into a scowl, like you’d disrespected his heritage. “I’m serious ‘bout this! This ain’t no laughin’ matter.”

“You’re treating your shitty old truck like it’s sentient.” You struggled to bite back your laughter. “It’s definitely a laughing matter.”

“Don’t you go calling Pedro shitty!”

You merely laughed at Beau, and he scowled, muttering unhappily to himself. He sipped his coffee, with an adorably grumpy look on his face. As you continued to laugh, Beau just bit back a smile, playing up his whole bit of being offended.

He admired the way you looked up at the sky as you laughed, cheeks dimpling. You peeked at him through amused eyes, and Beau smirked back at you, pleased with the way he’d made you laugh.

Snorting, you smacked his arm with your palm. “Cocky bastard.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly in his throat. “For good reason.” He side-stepped your next whack, amused, eyes crinkled as he stared at you. “Maybe you should start treating your sheriff with more respect.”

You merely snickered at his sarcasm, lips curling into a wide grin. “Y’know what, Beau?” You tapped his bicep. “When you start acting professional, I’ll start treating you with respect.”

He gasped in mock offence. “I am a damn professional! I got no idea what you’re yappin’ on about!”

Your only response was more laughter.

Beau complained the whole way back to the station, obviously not happy with your accusation of him being ‘not professional’.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“Thank you very much, kind sir.” You dramatically thanked Beau as he held open the door to the station, giggling as you walked through the door.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re welcome, ma’am.” Came his, as dramatic, reply. He took a few long strides to catch up with you, hands tucking deep into his pockets. “You ready to get back t’work?”

“Thrilled.” You huffed sarcastically.

The quiet call of your name made you spin on your heels. The receptionist had stepped out of the office and was swiftly approaching you. “These were left for you.” She handed over a bouquet of flowers, smiling kindly.

Bewildered, you accepted the bouquet on autopilot. They were pretty. Red tulips. Your favourites. “Who— sorry, who left these?”

“Some man.” She shrugged, glancing between you and the bouquet.

You frowned, confused and wary. “Thank you.” You turned and grabbed Beau’s wrist, dragging him to his office. He spluttered and stumbled after you, not resisting the pull, despite his confusion. You shut the door and threw the flowers onto his desk like they were poisoned.

“What?” He stared at you in confusion. “They’re just flowers. Maybe you got an admirer.”

“What’s my favourite flower?”

Beau blinked at you, searching the depths of his brain. “I… don’t know.” He finally answered after a few beats.

“Red tulips.” Your eyes turned to him.

Beau’s gaze snapped to the flowers, realisation striking him. He grabbed the flowers, inspecting them closely. “Red tulips.” He muttered, and set the bouquet down again. His confused eyes turned up to look at you again. “Okay. So, what does that mean?”

You stared at him, clueless. But, there was something heavy in your gut. A warning that something was very, very wrong. You didn’t know what, but there was definitely something wrong.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s coinci—“ your sharp glare cut him off. “Or not. Okay, not a coincidence.” He quickly corrected himself, his words hurried. Beau sighed and picked up the flowers, spinning them in his hands. “Listen, darlin’, it’s probably nothing.”

Your doubtful eyes stared back at him.

Beau cracked a reassuring smile. “You’re overthinkin’ it. It’s just some flowers, mm?” He delicately handed you the bouquet. “It’s nothin’. Don’t you go worrying yourself over somethin’ so silly.”

The smile on your lips was weak, but you nodded anyways. “Yeah.” You stared at the flowers. “Probably nothing.”

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Despite Beau’s insistence, the flowers seemed to be taunting you. You’d set them up by your kitchen window, the vibrant red a harrowing contrast to the subtlety of your apartment. You hated them. Something about these damn flowers made your stomach churn.

The sheriff had assured you, many times, that the flowers had meant nothing. That someone had likely figured out your favourite flower, and sent them to the station as a ‘thank you’ for a case you’d done.

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t.

Your gut screamed like an alarm going off every time you saw them.

Finally, you decided enough was enough, sick of your gut feeling end anxiousness, and you took yourself and the flowers to Dewell & Hoyt — greeted by Denise and Cassie in the office.

Cassie smiled the moment you walked in, leant up against the desk that had once belonged to Emily. “Hey.” You flashed her a smile in return, though it was strained, and she quickly took notice. “What’s wrong?”

“One, don’t tell Beau I’m here.” They both stared suspiciously. You sighed and stepped further into the room. “These flowers turned up at the station for me.” You put them down in front of Denise, watching their reactions with bated breath.

She picked them up, and Cassie breezed across the room to get a closer look.

“Red tulips.” Denise noted. “Aren’t those your favourite?”

You nodded, relieved they’d understood what you were saying. “Yeah. That’s the problem.” You sighed, scratching your forehead. You chewed your cheek and contemplated your next words. “Listen, maybe I’m just being dramatic. Beau thinks I am. But… I just— I guess I have a bad feeling.” You tried your best to explain your thought process.

Cassie nodded in understanding, taking the flowers from Denise to examine them.

“I know its… likely useless. But, can you try and figure out where the fuck they came from?” You requested, rather embarrassed to be asking for something like this. You knew it was a long-shot. And that were you probably just being dramatic, making a big deal out of something that didn’t need to be worried about. “It’s just freaking me out.”

“Sure can.” Cassie reassured you, putting them down on her desk. Her casual attitude towards your ask made you relax. “No problem.” Thank God for Cassie Dewell.

“And—“

“Don’t tell Beau?” Cassie finished for you, amused. At your sheepish smile and nod, she just offered you a laugh. “He won’t know.”

You smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

She nodded, flashing you a friendly, reassuring smile. “We’ll figure out where they came from in no time.”

You could only hope she was right, for your own damn sanity.

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taglist - @yvonneeeee

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #big sky #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #all my ghosts

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eepyuii · 2 months

Text

frostbite — pt. 12

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some self loathing talk, ending that you guys are gonna hate me for LMFAO

notes ; listen guys. i KNOW it’s been a minute, life’s just been really hectic lately- so many ups and downs and i couldn’t come up with what this chapter could be until i remembered- the inazuma trip!

and so that is what this is, the inazuma trip from childe’s POV and NOTHING ELSE happens. i promise :)

previous | next | masterlist

if a mere gaze could incinerate, the letter before you would’ve been reduced to ashes by now.

it sits as pathetically unmoving as paper can get on the table before you— yet you can’t even bear to pick it up into your hands again, what a coward. it’s not even a bad letter either, very far from the bone-chilling mandates you receive from the doctor or directly from zapolyarny palace.

no, it’s an invitation. from ajax.

a simple invitation to a simple visit to inazuma to simply explore the scenery he had so passionately raved about to you before. your stay in sumeru had unintentionally prolonged itself, for reasons that if someone asked you out loud right now, you’d say you just ‘didn’t notice the days going by’. but any dimwit, if there is even such a thing inside sumeru city, would’ve been able to tell that you’re just cowering away from seeing ajax again.

since all of the matters had been resolved— crisis averted, dottore gone, kunikuzushi restored to his sharp-tongued self, you’d expected yourself to feel better. feel happier.

but you don’t.

because the guilt is still there, it still thrashes against your chest and scratches your throat dry, yelling out in a raucous, grating voice that you’re a terrible terrible person.

a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to go to inazuma. who doesn’t deserve to see ajax.

you still think of collei. you’ve been terrified to leave your quarters during the day, lest you bump into her on the streets of the city. you hope she’s feeling better, since all of eleazar was cured. gods, why do you even care this much? you’ve never even met the girl yet you’re desperate for her to forgive you, when you haven’t even done anything to her directly. you want to be worthy of her forgiveness so badly but.. you also think you’re not deserving of it, or any forgiveness at all. what is wrong with you?

“what is wrong with you?”

what.

“h-huh?”

you’re brought back to reality by kunikuzushi’s voice, who looms over the table you sit at, periodically moving his judgemental gaze towards the letter then back to you.

“the last ship for inazuma leaves in an hour, y’know. and you haven’t even started packing! you humans slack so much it baffles me how anything gets done ever.”

you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze elsewhere as to avoid the very predictable death glare kunikuzushi is about to give at what you say next.

“i’m not going.”

thank the archons that his puppet body doesn’t have built-in eye lasers, or else you’d be barbecue by now.

“what do you mean you’re not going?”

“i changed my mind, i’m not going.” you shrug simply.

“as if,” he scoffs. “seeing that imbecile again is all you’ve talked about for days! i can still hear your stupid little melancholic sigh inside my head from how much you do so much as think about it.”

you remain silent, staring down at your own fingertips and fighting the urge to pick your nails.

“now suck up your idiocy for a second and answer me truthfully— why are you not going?”

it’s safe to say that one second you opened your mouth to answer and the next you were practically beaten into the ship, but not before you were almost deafened at kunikuzushi’s yells for you to pack up faster. you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone be so ragingly doting, though you believe he was partially motivated by how irkingly sulky you’ve been lately.

at least you can rest knowing nahida won’t let him rest.

—

“i’m sure they’ll arrive today, tartaglia!”

he’s sure yoimiya is right, yet his leg keeps bouncing impatiently. surely you’d accept his invitation, or at least show sign of life by sending a rejection letter— he could live with the sting of it as long as you were alive and safe in sumeru.

…no, that might not be enough. maybe his letter never arrived to you, maybe he put in the wrong address, maybe the letter did arrive but you weren’t there to receive it because you were unsafe. maybe he should just go to sumeru himself and check in on you. childe’s leg starts bouncing faster. he hates it, this giddy feeling but in a bad way. it’s not the kind of giddy he feels when he’s about to engage in combat or.. when he sees you— it feels terrible, like his heart is beating incorrectly in his chest.

but then he feels erratic taps against his shoulder and he looks over to see yoimiya hopping excited as her other hand points toward the port, where a ship is arriving. yoimiya doesn’t know what you look like, so you might not be in that ship at all— he prepares before getting his hopes up. the two of them step closer towards the port and childe scans the passengers leaving the ship with utmost attention, like he’s never focused so hard in his life. amongst the crowd, the top of someone’s head who looks like you is visible and just from that, his heart stutters. it still beats incorrectly. finally, as though a blessing from the tsaritsa herself, it’s you.

and his heart starts beating right. erratically, but right.

his legs take him to you before can even think of it. there’s a sense of deja vu from your reunion in liyue, except now there’s assuredly nothing that’ll keep you away from each other, for the time being at least. the one thing that’s different this time is that neither of you say anything upon seeing each other, you just both wordlessly wrap yourselves in a tight, breathless hug.

neither of you pull away for a while either, until childe moves 3 inches or so back to keep you at arms length. he exhales heartily, as if he only got to breathe for the first time just now, and takes in all of your features now that he can. he notices that your eye bags seem darker, more prominent— have you not been getting enough sleep?

he’s about to ask you that very question when your eyes flicker towards something, or someone, behind him with a hint of wary surprise in your eyes and he remembers that yoimiya is here and probably shaking with excitement to meet you— he’s spoken a lot about you, but we’ve already gone over extensively just how much he does that.

“a-ah, where are my manners— y/n, this is yoimiya, owner of naganohara fireworks and friend i’ve made alon-“

a shrill squeak comes out from behind behind childe and within the blink of an eye, he’s shoved away by yoimiya, who takes you into her own bone crushing hug.

“oh, y/n, it’s so so so nice to finally meet you!”

the blonde releases you from the hug, her hands fly to hold yours as she hops up and down with joy only comparable to a prancing bunny. whatever standoffishness you felt before melts and you return yoimiya’s excitement with a big grin, one that makes childe’s chest swell more than he thought previously possible.

though much to his dismay, you’re viciously dragged around by a hyperactive firework maker around inazuma city, she shows you all the best shops and spots within the city (especially naganohara fireworks), while childe only hurries to keep up with you two. eventually, you’re released from yoimiya’s ecstatic grasp, as she mentions having to help her father with dinner— the old man won’t even hear the pot boiling on his own, she says.

the two of you end up at a viewpoint in the city, leaning against a railing, shoulders only a breath apart from each other. sunset arrives before you even notice, the caramel rays shining against the unusual violet hues nature of inazuma create a sweet ambience— one neither childe nor you dare to interrupt.

it’s almost painfully awkward, the silence. you would’ve expected to be chatting till the sun rose again about your respective escapades but nothing, perhaps you two have so much to talk about you don’t even know where to start. and so neither of you do.

childe finally decides to take the fall and fills the increasingly cooling air of the evening with a clear of his throat.

“so,” he swallows hard. “have you been well?”

you take a split second to answer, he notices that your fingers fidget as well.

“yeah, just fine.” you nod before nudging him playfully. “what about you? surviving the island weather?”

he frowns— you’re not telling the truth. firstly, changing the subject so fast before he even gets to ask about your… mission in sumeru, whatever it is he can’t seem to remember it. secondly, the way you fidget is strangely familiar to him. it takes a moment but childe recalls, it’s precisely one of your old tells.

when the two of you were young, sometimes your father would bring back board games from his job in the big city— some were guessing games, some were training cards, some murder mysteries and others games all about bluffing. and you were terrible at bluffing, eyes always scattering about, fingers itching against each other, tongue poking against your cheek. old habits die hard, he supposes.

he wishes he could feel good about reminiscing over those moments but really, right now they only serve to prove that you were lying about doing well— he doesn’t like that.

childe opts not to sour the moment, though. it’s not even your first night in inazuma yet.

“i’ve been faring. but uh.. remind me again as i seem to have forgotten,” he chuckles sheepishly. “what exactly was your mission in sumeru?”

your eyes scatter.

“just an on-field investigation about this strange disease that was born in sumeru, eleazar. unfortunately, it’s still all pretty confidential— so no snooping even for someone like you, mr. harbinger.”

“yeesh, sounds serious. i’ll do my best to make sure you unwind from all that uptight working for now, though. i’ve got the next two days planned with all sorts activities and places to show you around in inazuma.”

your shoulders seem to intense slightly at the idea of actually vacationing and childe feels some relief in his chest. he grins.

“but for now— i’d like to take you to try some inazuman cuisine and then get some rest. i’ll show you around the food district but i heavily suggest these… little stuffed balls of rice they sell at this kiosk, i believe they’re called ‘onigiri’.”

“mm, sounds tasty.”

—

“no, i’m telling you i saw it go over here!”

it’s somehow nostalgic, hopping around chinju forest and chasing bake-danukis around like unburdened children. childe swears he sees the esper of your younger self following after you as you hop from rock to rock over the river, giggling at the splashes of water that lick at your ankles. he hears the jingle of the monster yōkai as it tries to taunt him, but he’s long since forfeited his own goose chase to bask in the warm delight of watching you.

it’s like his limbs have shut down, locked in place for the sake of gluing his eyes to your grinning figure who runs up and down after the elusive bake-danuki without another care in the world. you know that the chase is aimless, that the yōkai has no purpose or finality other than to taunt you— but you don’t care, you’ve abandoned the rationality you usually cling to like the air in your lungs just to have stupid fun for once.

and it’s because childe took you here. the pride that fills him due to the fact is so immense that he feels as though he could fell an army of mitachurls without even using his vision.

the image of your state yesterday is still burned into his retinas, how utterly exhausted you looked, not to mention that you lied about being well. it’s the most basic state of being, just being ‘fine’, yet even that wasn’t your truth. the worst of it all is that he can’t even figure out why, what could’ve happened in sumeru that left you like that. it all terrifies him.

“…ax?”

huh?

oh. you’re calling out to him. childe feels his entire being perk up at that and he’s fully at attention within a heartbeat.

“ajaax? you okay?”

you’re standing two rocks away from the bake-danuki over the river current, but you no longer care for it. instead, you look over to childe and wave to catch his eye, worried frown invading your features.

childe nods rapidly. “peachy! i was just, ah— thinking up a strategy to catch that slippery bake-danuki!”

he monitors you closely for the rest of the day, making sure everything goes well as to not make you frown again. he takes you up to the grand narukami shrine, where your eyes fill with light as you gaze up in wonder at the huge cherry blossom tree, a pink petal gracefully lands on your head but it compliments you so splendidly that childe doesn’t have the heart to tell you about it.

he’s only not completely enamored by how the peaceful scenery frames you so majestically because he feels an itch at the back of his neck, turning around to see the guuji of the shrine throwing him a both amused and judgemental stare. she gives him the creeps.

the next day, childe takes you to watatsumi island. it seems you’re once again possessed by a childlike spirit, as you scurry about every inch of the island to take in all of the almost magical details of it. you tell him it reminds you of the fairytales you used to read and the sheer glee in your demeanor almost makes him tear up. at some point, the two of you even go swimming in one of the beaches that frame the cascading island and it’s a sight childe’s dreams only hope to imitate, to see you canonballing into the warm seawater with pure joy— it’s completely incomprehensible to the frigid tundras of snezhnaya that you’re both used to.

to finish it off, you’re back in inazuma city to dine in a traditional inazuman restaurant and you’re both almost bursting from how much you’ve eaten by the end of it. you’re waiting patiently for a waiter to come by your table and give you the check for the food with sleepy eyes— the kind of sleepy that only hits you after a hearty meal.

when it arrives, both of you reach out for the check simultaneously.

“come on, please let me at least pay for the food this time? you already paid for our last two dinners.” you plea.

“nonsense! i invited you to inazuma to give you a tour, you’re a practically guest here-“

“not like you’re a local either… just this once, please-”

“i brought so much excess mora, it’s been weighing down on my backpack. just let me empty it a little more with this check and i promise you i’ll let you pay for our next-“

“but i’ll feel terrible. you’ve been doing everything for me these past two days, it’s the bare minimum for me to-“

“y/n. i insist.”

your poor waiter.

“fine.” you huff begrudgingly, turning to look down at your empty plate with a defeated frown. childe immediately feels like the worst person in the world.

the walk back to your hotel is quiet, eerily so. it’s almost ironically parallel to your first night here, you even pass by the same viewpoint as it’s on the way to your destination— you choose to take a wordless detour to the same railing.

childe is a step behind when he joins you, the first thing he notices is how hard you’re gripping onto the railing, knuckles turning white. the second things how tightly you press your lips to suppress their trembling. and the third thing is the wet glimmer that lines your bottom eyelids. he wishes the earth would give way and swallow him whole.

“y/n… i-“

“w-why are you doing a-all of this?” the breaking in your voice is the worst sound childe has ever heard in his life.

“w-what do you mean? have i done something to upset you?”

you shake your head.

“why are you d-doing all of this for m-me? taking me to beautiful p-places… paying for all my f-food— what did i even do to d-deserve this from y-you?”

childe scoffs incredulously. why would you even be worried about that?

“because you’re my best friend, y/n. i care about you and i wanted to show you somewhere new, somewhere i loved. people simply do that for each other someti-“

“t-that’s the thing, though, i’m not just people! i’m a t-terrible person who works for an even worse person, a fucking m-monster that i let be a monster! people are sickly and d-dying because of him and i j-just let him do it! i don’t d-deserve sceneries or g-good food for free…”

you yell, tears running freely and ceaselessly down your cheeks. childe is almost angry at the complete nonsense you’re spewing, but he scatters his brain for a gentler way to calm you down. then, he remembers a previous tactic of his— he places both of his gloved hands at either side of your face.

successfully, you immediately shut up, save for the erratic breaths that leave you. you’re staring up at him with almost enraged confusion, but not at him, rather at yourself— you truly believe what you’re saying to the point where you’d lose sleep over it, it shatters childe’s heart into a million pieces.

“y/n. please listen to me very carefully. you are not a terrible person, in fact, you’re one of the best people i have ever met-“

“but i c-could’ve done-“ you interrupt and childe immediately squishes your cheeks inward as to press your lips shut.

“shush. you are the most intelligent, caring, attentive, patient person i have ever had the privilege of meeting, y/n. dottore is a psychopath, that’s no doubt, but you couldn’t have done anything to stop him— he’s got power even i couldn’t begin to gauge and… unfortunately he uses them for evil deeds. but you, you use yours for good and for that, you’re infinitely and eternally better than him.”

you’ve stopped crying at this point.

“you’ve only ever used your capabilities to help people— help me, the traveler, all of the new cadets who get stupid injuries in zapolyarny palace.” he chuckles. “and you care so much and so deeply. you took such good care of teucer when he was in liyue, you even chose to go against me, betray our mission, for the chance to help the traveler and save the people of the harbor, you nursed me back to heal when i was at my weakest.

i believe that in this world, the lines between good and bad are blurry— many dance around in its fog, heh, including myself. but you, y/n? i think you’re as good as it gets.”

there’s no reason for childe to still be holding your face in his hands, really, but at this point it seems like the entire rest of the world has disappeared for him.

“this trip has only been the minimum of the thanks i owe you, hell, i’d pay for all of the meals in your life if that even repaid half of what you’ve done for others.”

you chuckle at that.

“but… i-i also wanted to treat you to this because i…”

oh god, why did he start that sentence, he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet. childe’s heart hammers against his chest, bound to break out at any moment, and his throat becomes dry almost immediately. his hands are so clammy that he desperately wants to pull them away from you, unfortunately his limbs betray him and stay right where they are. childe thinks he feels a heartbeat at his fingertips, like he can feel it from the pulse in your neck, but his fingers shake too much to discern.

years in the battlefield, a harbinger title over his head, falling into the abyss and childe has never felt as terrified as he does now— he feels as though he can’t breathe.

the entire world, time and space, halt at the tip of his tongue, where it’s next words will forever change your relationship. but then again, childe did say he could live with rejection so long as you were safe and sound…

…couldn’t he?

“…b-because i mean to go to fontaine soon.”

i saw this tweet in the midst of finishing this chapter and i was like “oh my fucking god. them.” LMFAO

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

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mxyee445 · 4 months

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Rant #6

Hello my loves, this gonna be a calm rant(maybe).

I want to first say stop searching. Reading or interacting in this community doesn’t mean you are searching unless you are reading to find an answer.

For me I find calmness and silence in reading posts on here about nd and seeing how everyone interprets it.

I have been very cautious of how I use words on here as I don’t want to confuse people with the words used for the reason that if I use some words you might take it literally and over complicate what I’m trying to say.

There is no reason for me to put in the effort to keep myself in check of how I speak/write. Why? Because words are merely words. There is no one definition or explanation or example on how to “just be”.

I found myself constantly wanting to explain things to you about nd, what I learned, how I can help you learn, how I could prove this to be true but soon realized I was doing that for myself.

Even when I thought “I understand everything, I am nothing, I am the silence/awareness/nothing.” When in reality words can’t describe what I am.

I started to take “do nothing” seriously, I live in the now because there is no past to live again and no future to experience yet. There aren’t predictions to be made about the future or trauma and sadness to be held from the past. The “past” despaired the second I stoped thinking about it the same with the future.

I don’t know how to put it but I’ve found so much calmness in my mind that had a million thoughts of future in plans and assumptions well also dwelling on the past. I didn’t do anything to get rid of them because there was nothing to get rid of from the start.

I would honestly recommend to stop reading posts for answers but treating them as diary entries from you to yourself. The pointers/the advice/ the stories, they are yourself giving answers to your questions.

We are all one.

#non dualism #non duality #nondualism #nonduality #i am state #non dualism and law of assumption #advaita vedanta #atman #awareness #nothingness #mayeerant

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ineffable-sideburns · 5 months

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In this post, I'm going to tie numerous observations on screen together to make a single season 3 prediction

it relies on this premise, which i'm about to build a case for:

the way the characters interact with the story is informed by the mythical/historical figures they are directly and indirectly coded as, but it’s not always in the way you’d expect, and some characters are coded in more than one way. we can still use these relationships as Clues to postulate where the story might go and how the characters will interact with one another.

this is by no means exhaustive, obviously. i’ve seen people say that Crowley is coded as Jesus, Aziraphale as Mary, and numerous other figures. i’m just pointing out some things i’ve noticed that I haven’t seen brought up as often.

we’ll start with Crowley, then go on to Sandalphon and Saraqael, then Gabriel, then Aziraphale. yes, it'll all lead up to something and i chose these characters in this order for a reason.

Crowley

so we obviously know he’s coded as Ashtoreth when he dresses up as Nanny Ashtoreth in season 1. yes, we will note that in the book, it’s very vaguely implied that Crowley and Aziraphale both hired Ashtoreth and Francis

in season 2, when trying to get the deets on bae, Beelzebub offers Crowley a “hefty” promotion and then later tells him “you could be a duke of hell".

in researching Beelzebub, at some point I found out about Milton's Unholy Trinity in Paradise Lost, which includes Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Astaroth as the first heirarchy in Hell, and which has (seemingly) lent that idea to demonology in general.

Astaroth is often referred to as the "Great Duke of Hell."

so now with season 2, Crowley has been coded in the show as both the feminine and masculine demons derived from the eastern goddess Astarte.

note: coded != Crowley is literally Astaroth/Ashtoreth. it means we can infer things about the story through the coding

the obvious would be him becoming a duke of Hell somehow in season 3. i personally am not convinced the story will take that route, and it would be sad to see him end up back in hell. this coding is the least compelling for me. it could just be a Milton reference, or maybe, since at this point in season 2, we don’t know why Beelzebub wants Gabriel, this could be a Clue that Beelzebub was sincere. maybe it just shows how powerful Crowley could have been if he’d accepted the deal. or maybe it just adds weight to parallel the decision Aziraphale makes later when offered his own position of power. people have analyzed Crowley and Ashtoreth/Astarte before, and the book/show discrepancy is always brought up, so i'm ignoring that and just addressing the added layer of Astaroth coding. anyway, let's move on to the more interesting observations.

Sandalphon and Saraqael

i’m doing these two together because i’ve found what i believe to be a major connection between them based on Neil’s answer to this ask, a shared trait their mythical figures have, and Saraqael’s actions in the show.

when Sandalphon is introduced in season 1, we learn that he was smiting and turning people into salt during Sodom and Gomorrah. then we see the direct connection Saraqael has with Sandalphon at the end of season 2, when Michael asks her to turn Maggie and Nina into salt pillars and her hand flys up.

but that’s not secret, is it?

you know what is, though?

the fact that she immediately recognizes Metatron in his human form, looks scared shitless for multiple shots, and then proceeds to act like it never happened when he starts addressing all the angels. she doesn’t let anyone know that she recognized him.

do check out this post by @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer with more shots and analysis of her reaction to Metatron.

still don’t believe me and think that reaction is nothing?

well, let me tell you something both the mythical figures Sandalphon and Saraqael have in common.

they both saw Metatron in his human form.

according to one source, Sandalphon was Metatron’s twin brother, and Sandalphon, like Metatron, was originally human.

in the book of 2 Enoch, Sariel/Saraqael was one of the angels who brought Enoch (human!Metatron) to Heaven.

if Sandalphon had been in that room at that moment, he’d also be secretly recognizing Metatron.

obligatory: remember what I said at the beginning of this post? we are using this coding to analyze the story and how the characters interact with it and eachother. you don’t believe that Sandalphon or Metatron were literally human at one point in GO? that’s fine. i’m just giving a reason why the author may have chosen Saraqael and Sandalphon to serve the same purpose in this scene

it isn’t crazy to think that a lot of the historical lore was used to inform the characters, and if you think it is, at least read about Gabriel first.

Gabriel

Gabriel is being coded…as the actual archangel (fucking) Gabriel. (and as Lord Jim from the novel of the same name by Joseph Conrad - the book Aziraphale glances at before choosing to call Gabriel Jim. but you can google the plot of Lord Jim and how it relates to Gabriel on your own time. it’s too much to get into right now.)

Gabriel is an archangel with the power to announce God’s will to mankind. He is associated with messages, vision, telecommunications, and revelation…

…and in the Bible he announces the birth of John the Baptist, and later, Jesus.

30 And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.

31 And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS

Luke 1:30-31

"hey Sithis dude you will not believe this… God now grants that you may conceive seven more children…yippe!!”

let’s get back to that thing about him delivering messages and revelation though.

Gabriel starts off season 2 carrying a box to the book shop (that we think was empty but later find out had a fly in it as well as a message scrawled on the bottom about where his memory is)

he also tells Aziraphale that something terrible was going to happen to him so he had to give him something. you can take that as being the fly, and consciously it probably was, but throughout season 2 Gabriel is unconsciously and unintentionally giving other people messages.

ex.

technically, a message “delivered” (dropped) by Gabriel, found by Muriel

after Crowley not-so-nicely commands Gabriel to remember, Jimbriel says, in a voice that shifts to sound like God’s voice, “I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of God shouted for joy." Crowley recognizes this as what God said to Job, and then another flashback of Job begins.

later, during another vision caused by Crowley mentioning the word tempest: "There will come a tempest then darkness and great storms and the dead will leave their graves and walk the earth once more, and there will be great lamentations... every day it's getting closer."

in the Hebrew Bible, Gabriel appears to the prophet Daniel, and explains his prophetic visions. in Good Omens though, Jim IS the prophet having prophetic visions through Gabriel.

when in the book shop with Aziraphale, Jimbriel starts to hum every day, which is what causes Aziraphale to search down the pub with the jukebox playing that song on repeat. we know from what Terry and Neil have said about every day that it’s the song of the apocalypse, but none of the characters know that, Gabriel included.

what does a song do?

each message the archangel of (fucking) messages delivers is unconscious. not how you’d expect him to live up to his name, right? of course, if they are actually God’s messages, it makes sense that they’re useless, vauge, and well, ineffable. one last thing: spiritually, Gabriel’s messages and prophecies are often believed to be delivered through dreams (or in other words, the unconscious)

edit: this post by @noneorother actually inspired me to look at the mythology of archangel Gabriel, so it’s crucial you check it out. i’ve also seen a post somewhere that posits Gabriel shouldn’t even have some of the memories that go by really quickly before the flashbacks of him and Beelzebub, but i lost the link to it.

edit II: just wanted to add this post by @drconstellation, which analyzes the symbols coded into Jimbriel's clothing.

Aziraphale

it’s hard to ignore the fact that Aziraphale’s name is similar to Raphael, and that we’re missing an archangel Raphael. i’ll link some analysis on the meaning of Aziraphale’s name and share a quote from Terry, but this has all been said before. i want to look at who Raphael is mythologically to see if there’s similarities in Aziraphale’s character, and i also want to see if we can find out the relationship between Gabriel and Aziraphale, and why the latter was a suitable replacement.

Terry said about the name's origin:

"It was made up but... er... from real ingredients. [The name] Aziraphale could be shoved in a list of 'real' angels and would fit right in..."

For instance, Islam recognizes the Archangels Jibril, Mikhail, Azrael (see also the annotation for p. 9 of Reaper Man ), and Israfel (the subject of Edgar Allan Poe's well-known poem of the same name), whereas from Christianity we get such names as Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel.

the excerpt above was taken from here

NOW that that’s out of the way, who is archangel Raphael, the mythical figure?

Raphael’s name means “god heals.” it’s believed he helps people heal and overcome their struggles spiritually, physically, and mentally, and that he protects people on their journeys. he’s also considered to be the angel of joy, love, marriage, matchmaking, and travels.

as an example, in the Book of Tobit, God sends Raphael on a journey with a man named Tobias so that he can meet and woo his future wife. Raphael is also sent to heal her and Tobias’s blind, ageing father.

all the people and things i can count just off the top of my head that Aziraphale has healed or protected:

Anathema (healed)

Anathema’s bike (healed)

the dove he accidentally killed (technically healed by Crowley in the book)

Jimbriel (literally tells Jim he promised he would protect him)

Maggie and Nina when the demons enter the bookshop (tells them he will protect them)

bonus: in a scene cut from season 1, he stops a baby’s stroller from crashing

…and one he couldn’t:

collection of gifs of Aziraphale being full of joy:

you just have to look at Aziraphale smiling, especially at Crowley...

...to know that he represents joy and lo--

oh, but wait, he’s known for hooking people up, right? in case you forgot: Maggie and Nina va voom? originally his idea

similarly to the book of Tobit story I mentioned earlier, who did Aziraphale protect on his journey to meeting his beloved?

remember: the characters don't know they're being coded as anything and they don't know what kind of story they're in, so while Aziraphale didn't know he was going to be reuniting two lovers when he protected Jim, he played the role Neil made for him. it doesn't matter that he didn't know in the same way that it doesn't matter that Crowley could have (potentially) been powerful, or in the same way that it doesn't matter that Gabriel's messages were delivered unconsciously.

one more thing. Raphael heals people spiritually, physically, and mentally, right?

so is it any surprise that Aziraphale thinks he can heal the *ahem* spiritual corruption in Heaven?

we're going to tinfoil hat theory-land now ya'll, but I swear all of these observations are leading up to something cohesive...

Why did Aziraphale replace Gabriel?

i'll spare you all the long theories about Metatron's reasons, although i quite like the idea that Metatron was listening in ever since Aziraphale opened the portal to discorporate the demons attacking the bookshop, and he saw Aziraphale use his halo to declare war in order to protect Maggie and Nina. this shows Metatron that when pushed into a corner, or when it means protecting someone, he can force Aziraphale's hand...even to war.

But can we find a link between Gabriel and Raphael mythically to explain it instead?

if you've made it this far, you know i've got an answer for you. i withheld one detail about Gabriel earlier. in Christianity, he is often associated with blowing the trumpet at the end times to announce Judgment Day.

"okay, so?"

well, do you remember the quote from Terry and the excerpt from lspace I mentioned earlier? when mentioning the origins of Aziraphale's name, the excerpt mentions both angels in Islam and Christianity. the counterpart to Raphael in Islam, is Israfil/Israfel...

who blows the trumpet to signal the Day of Judgment.

"but Aziraphale wouldn't do that!"

he wouldn't intentionally do it. he's not a villain.

you remember who didn't intend to start the apocalypse in season 1, but who was there and given a role to play, regardless of whether he wanted to?

…the one who said no to heaven and hell and refused to be their pawn this time around when offered powerful positions by both?

Aziraphale, after nuking some demons with his halo, with painful foreshadowing: "I think I may have just started a war."

obligatory reiteration: the way the character-coding manifests is not literal, and it isn't always in the way you'd expect. there may be no literal trumpet. but i'm just pointing out the potential symmetry with season 1 in it being Aziraphale who "starts" apocalypse II.

one last thing: Raphael protects people on journeys, and helps them overcome their struggles — but now Aziraphale is on his own journey, and he will have to overcome his own moral struggles (ironically what Crowley helped him with)…alone.

#good omens theory #good omens season 3 #good omens speculation #good omens 3 #good omens analysis #good omens meta #good omens sequel #good omens spoilers #good omens #good omens clues #gabriel #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #sandalphon #saraqael #raphael

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absurdthirst · 11 months

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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.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo the bubble

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vaporvipermedia · 7 months

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[My Opinion on Yandere Tropes]

I’m putting up a disclaimer so no one can misunderstand my words. I am not dissing anyone who writes Yandere tropes like how I present nor do I think of them any less when portraying canon characters this way. If anything, I find this concept interesting and believe some improvements can make said stories fascinating and less predictable with the trope used. ALSO! Just because I read some Yandere fics, does not mean that I agree or condone any of the actions written in these narratives. Thank you for understanding.

Now for opinion time!

After reading my fair share of Yandere fanfiction, I’ve always found most actions done by the characters inside of these stories becoming either extremely predictable or doing something out of left field to the point where they act like a different character entirely.

Yes, some may contest that this archetype can change how a character acts. Sure, that is the case but that doesn’t mean that their personality and characteristics should be put on hold. They’re still human no matter if they’re sickly in love or not.

Some writings don’t have any nuance with the Yandere trope and just go the simple route with it. Adding depth and context to Yandere’s mindset can bring out your work for the better! Think about how the characters would act in a situation where they’re sickly in love with someone instead of using cliché lines and scenes.

Make them have some self-doubt in their actions to add some interest to your writings. Make it believable and thought-provoking when talking about the psyche of the “Yandere” in question.

And one character I’ve seen done a little bit dirty is a certain hunter with the Nicki Minaj Bob.

YES, I DID SEGWAY THIS SO I CAN TALK ABOUT MY VIEWS ON YANDERE! ROOK WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO!? NOTHING EXACTLY! Anyways…

I’ve only seen a few Yandere Rook fics but the ones that I have viewed just left me kind of baffled. Most of them involve hurting the person he’s interested in or putting them in dangerous situations while also trying to make it suggestive. Again no dissing anyone who writes him like this! But I am going to take this time to write down my opinion on Yandere Rook while also keeping parts of his personality. Because Rook has such good potential for a great Yandere fic and it’s kind of sad to see writers miss such an opportunity with him.

My View of Yandere Rook

If Rook was a Yandere, he definitely wouldn’t hurt the person he’s after. He sees the person as a beauty worth persevering only for his sight and benefit. Hurting his love would be like destroying the one thing he’s been desperate to seek his whole life.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think Rook would go after people who simply talk to his partner. Sure he’ll be a little antsy at times when people get too friendly with the partner in question. But, all he would do is just stare them down after they leave. And to combat this he’d take his partner to places around the college. Rambling about his love for them, serenading them or just giving them affection. He does anything he can to make sure that the person he’s in love with only focuses on him and the scenery around them.

But if someone DOES try to pursue his lover. Then he’s going to have a problem. He’ll go up to them as casually as possible trying to strike up a “nice” conversation.

Potential Dialogue and Use of Tactics Rook uses

“Say I’ve been hearing from the grapevine that you’re in pursuit of the lovely trickster. Is that so?” He says this knowing the answer already.

Becoming even more dramatic saying:

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but they’re currently in a relationship. It would be a pity if their partner were to hear about this…they aren’t very forgiving when it comes to their love.”

He does it to scare them at first. But if they aren’t persuaded he drops the act entirely. “I tried to warn you. Tête de noeud…you just wouldn’t listen would you? Still trying to go after my love even after knowing they were together with me. Do you seriously think they would be with you? What a horrible joke…they would never fall for a fool like you. If you value your life please do the smart option and leave them out of that small dense brain do yours.”

“Oh my! My temper was far too wild! Please accept my humble apology. I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake twice…right?” And then leave them to their devices.

In simple words instead of killing off or injuring people, Rook strikes fear into their hearts to ensure they don’t come near his lover. He isn’t an outright killer but he’s great at making people think that he might kill them. Only using empty threats to get the job done. Keeping them on their feet and letting them overthink whatever might happen to them. Making them crumble under their fear.

Conclusion

The moral of this long opinion piece is that Yandere tropes can be used to make eye-opening fan works. Doesn’t matter which fandom you’re in, TWST or not!

It’s up to you whether or not you decide to add nuance to said fanfiction. That’s all I wanted to say! Thank you for reading all the way through. I hope my points were understandable.

ANOTHER THING! I’m not saying that I’m a better writer! Trust me I have a long way to go. I just wanted to talk about what I’ve been noticing lately in this genre and give people ideas for their possible fics. That’s it. Now I’m done.🫶

#you are fully allowed to disagree with this #because at the end of the day it’s just an opinion of mine #twisted wonderland #rook hunt #yandere #yandere trope #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook x reader #viper’s thoughts

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jeskoholic · 11 months

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A Little Piece of You Chapter 17: The Ideal Girlfriend

This is a chapter from an on-going series. If you missed out on the previous entries, you can check my masterlist.

Previous chapter: A Coffee Date

Word count: 5,640

Tags: Male OC, Bestfriend Yujin, College friends, School Convo

Enjoy

“Come on man; I already explained things to you… I don’t have a girlfriend. Don’t be stupid.”

“Oh, is that the really the case?”

“Dawn… I know who you’re talking about and you’re dead wrong. She is just my best friend and there’s nothing else in the middle. I don’t know what made you think about anything about that.”

Dawn chuckled.

“What do you mean, Jae-in? Eve you called her as your ‘girlfriend’ at some point, right?”

“I did that because she’s a girl, right? She’s also my friend, so I think it just makes sense that I warrant myself calling her that. And by the way, I did that because of that one particular time that Shinwon and Kino drank their butts off and started asking stupid questions. I remember answering back at their claims just to make them both shut up. It was my only way out.”

“Well, sometimes things do work out like that especially with Shinwon and Kino. It’s funny how we don’t often see them talking together recently… “

“Hey, I don’t know what’s with you and the rest of UK, but why are y’all putting me in the hot seat now? You have no idea how much of a chore I had to endure with all the questioning from Hongseok and the others. Heck, even Yeri is being added to the mix and I can’t do anything about it. It feels weird that I’m complaining about this now, especially when I was so cool at it a while back but… I guess I was just uncomfortable talking about Soyeon especially to them. I only felt that when I was already relaying what transpired.”

“I don’t know about them… as far as I’m concerned, I just want to everyone else to be happy. I mean, look how well this first official date went with Jisoo. Like I said, if I don’t screw things up, this boat is sailing away smoothly. As a friend, I want those same things to happen to you guys as well, especially you, my man. I can’t even express to you how happy am I knowing my friends are good with Jisoo. It makes my efforts for her more relaxed knowing I have you guys behind me.”

“I’m happy for you man. It turned out to be a good idea that you brought us on this.”

“Wait, Jae-in… I just realized something…”

“Which is…?”

“You know with all of these happening… I’m sorry but I’ll have to introduce Soyeon to the conversation again. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, I guess. We’re pretty much talking about her already at this point so might as well.”

Dawn scratched the back of his head just as he and Jae-in crossed a street towards a bright shop, of where they proceeded to continue on walking.

“I realized that… it’s been a while since you and Soyeon went dating, or went out, whatever… I just figured, you never introduced her to anyone else rather than the group, am I correct? I’m curious as to how she’d react with Soyeon given her personality is drastically different from most of us.”

“Who are we talking about? Is it Yujin?”

“Of course man, who else could it be? You know how Yujin works and how she’s so picky with stuff, especially those who date you. It’s funny to think how Wonyoung hated her so much back in high school and her predictions never came to fruition. You and Yujin were still friends up to this day. It’s hilarious when I think about how much that hated seeing each other because of you. I wonder how your ex would react once she finds out that you two have gone stronger ever since.”

“I get where you’re going at. Yujin is pretty much very nitpicky on whoever I’m dating, or having an intention to date but she has her reasons. After what happened with Wonyoung, she made sure to have my back ever since. She’s always been the brain in my heart, as I tend to act out of impulse without thought. I would go as far and say that she’s the voice inside my head telling me to think twice about things before heading in, which is exactly why I trust her so much. Also, you know how guys have that hint whenever a dickhead is hitting on a girl with malicious intent? Girls have that too, man, and Yujin’s been the one warning me of everything… well, at least until recently anyway.”

“Yeah, I know that. I just wondered, in case you introduced Soyeon to her… what do you think she’d say about her, then? Do you think she’s going to have the same thought like you did?”

“Knowing Yujin, she’ll be the first person to tell me to back off. All those realizations, all those reasons why I chose to end it with Soyeon… I’m sure she would have seen it coming before I even thought about it. It would feel as if she’d be the one to back off for me while I still can’t get the courage to do so. I don’t know; like I said: womanly instincts. She’d be sure to tease about it to me at some point along that, too.”

Dawn nodded.

“Well, in a way I envy you; girls are pretty hard to understand. At least you have Yujin there to help you out for things, especially on the red flags we guys are normally blind to.”

“I guess so… although with that whole thing with Soyeon, I never really told her anything. Joohyun-noona even knows more than her on this regard… I guess I never really had the chance to tell her as it went on… I just never thought of her as well. With how quiet she is, maybe she’s just really busy recently.

“You know what, come to think of it… I never saw Yujin since the semester began. I guess being on a different engineering department ought to show how dedicated she is compared to us, and how physically and mentally committed she is on school. Then again, I didn’t expect less from a high school top student. At least she’s not spending her weekends going to bars like we do.”

“Jae-in, but I heard that you barely join Kyungsoo and the others when they invite you out. I heard that you’re not even showing up.”

There was a pause, which involved Jae-in giving his friend a joking glare only for Dawn to return it with a smirk.

“Okay, Mr Smart-ass, I know you’re happy. I get it. I’m happy for you as well. I just don’t get why Yujin suddenly got dragged into this conversation out of nowhere. Point is I really haven’t talked to her for a while so she has no idea what’s going on with me. It might surprise her with how much shit I’ve been through without even being halfway across the semester.”

“Maybe that’s the point. I genuinely got curious how come she’s never heard of anything… surprised, even. You got to tell her and catch up, man. You two have been through a lot and she ought to know at some point. In that case, it would be better if it would be from you.”

Kim Hyojong and Yoon Jae-in reached the end path of the long street they have been traversing on. The skies have completely showed its vibrant purple hue as the day succumbed into the incoming evening. As always, Seoul’s bright night life had begun to bare itself amidst the baby steps of the twilight. Shops began to show their innate beauty along with the approaching evening, with Jae-in only being able to realize what he was missing right as he and Hyojong were about to part ways. He stood with his eyes on the marketplace’s humble horizon, its roof carefully etched to match the elegance of the incoming dusk.

Maybe I should. I do kinda miss that chaos of a girl as well.

---

After the grand culmination of Dawn’s plan, it was suffice to say that he had once again become incognito, but I quite expected that. I really could not blame him; after that good enough of a start, he ought to focus all of his efforts towards Jisoo if he really want to make the most out of what has been given to him. Plus, the rest of the United Kwangya have been really confined lately, with the conversations solely existing between the occasional appearances of Ningning complaining about how she constantly forgets her basic maths skills, Kino teasing her about it, Kyungsoo moderating all of them. Yeri and Shinwon became the new love birds of the group effectively replacing me and Soyeon, which was a good thing. Granted, we never really displayed our affection in front of our friends, even if it was just a group chat, but at least the rest of the members attention were focused on them and not us. They didn’t even bother to bring up the topic of Jisoo and Dawn for the rest of the conversations.

Still, there was no word from Soyeon, as expected. It was also rather odd that I don’t see her around campus, be it with Ningning or Kyungsoo even for just a chance encounter. I don’t know if she’s doing that on purpose or we’re really just not allowed to see each other with fate dictating what the best is for both of us.

But I guess I could not complain with that. At least she and I could get a huge breathing room.

With the threat of the exams just being around the corner, I figured I might as well grab the chance to catch up with a long-time friend of mine. Who knows when she’ll be busy again?

I messaged Yujin exactly on that night that Dawn and I went our separate ways. Well, given the really tight schedule of this particular woman, I had to arrange our next get-together after quite a long time. Days passed and it was another weekend, and like how it passed by with Hyojong I found myself on a local bubble tea shop with a rather high, wooden ceiling. It was this small, compact space with a natural vibe echoing off of it with the wooden furniture, floorboards, ceiling, as well as the entire house-like feel of it. The open windows raged from all around, with the rear exit offering a veranda filled with chairs coupled with the breath-taking view of the city.

As much as I love the feel of the wind grazing my face as we’d consume our respective bubble teas, with the length of Yujin’s hair it ought to get to her face at some point. I don’t want to ruin her experience here just because of that, so I elected to pick tables indoors.

“Jae-in, heya,” I heard her voice call from the entrance of the shop’s doorway, appearing all in her youthful presence as she supplied me with an enthusiastic smile. “You finally decided to ask me out, hmmm? Can’t seem to find the perfect fairy for all this?”

Ahn Yujin greeted me on the same way she would almost every time I see her, and that is always with a wide smile over her tall stature. She showed up today with the clear understanding that white was the colour for that meet, having decided to wear a matching white long sleeves and track pants, finished with her white sneakers that fixed the over-all get-up while a folded jacket draped over her arm. Yujin had once again decided to have her bangs, and I think it suited her perfectly. Seeing her on a hairstyle I haven’t seen her do since high school, and especially on this time that I haven’t seen her for a while, it felt so nostalgic and very comforting in a way. It did felt like a relief to see my best friend from highschool looking and glowing so well. I’d lie if I didn’t miss this girl one bit.

“Give me a break, Yujin,” I replied to her as I smirked. “This might be on me but it’s far from being a date. I already ordered and it’s already here for you. I was actually serious when I said that your tea might screw itself up when you come in late.”

“Excuse me, oppa; you’re the one who’s early. I’m just in time. If this tastes bad, I’m going to ask you for another one.”

“I’m willing to bet that it’s not. I made sure to get your favourite.”

“Is that so?” Yujin replied as she rather surprisingly took the space next to me instead of the chair opposite where I was seated. She placed the small hand bag she had with her and brushed her bangs before taking the drink ordered for her.

“You know that there is a chair opposite me, right?”

“Well, I can see that. I can also see that you’re smart enough to pick the couch for yourself. In that case, endure sitting there. At least you have a pretty fairy next to you; that’s not a loss whatsoever.”

“It feels like it’s you who missed teasing me, Yujinnah. It almost makes me feel bad that I treated you out here,” I replied to her as a joke, which immediately earned a slap towards my arm.

“Yah, fine I’ll just stop,” she said and then proceeded to sip from the drink I bought her. “So what’s up with the sudden call, Jae-in? Are you heartbroken again?”

Oh my god… the fact that I know she’s joking but at the same time being so spot on is crazy on itself.

Now it feels awkward to open up because she did it first like that.

“I guess that’s the case then. You’re silence is more than enough evidence for it. Plus, your face says it all,” she concluded before I could even speak.

It’s so hard when someone knows you so damn much.

“Come on now… of course at some point I’m going to have to ask you out for us to catch up. I know how busy your department could get, being stuck on huge Chem books and all. I’m surprised that you even squeezed me into your busy sched.”

“It’s not that hectic, Jae-in, really. Most of you people are pretty much exaggerating when it comes to our study habits as well as our activities.”

“Really…? So everything that I’ve been hearing was just an exaggeration? Is that why I never even managed to bump unto you if it was even just by chance? It’s like we’re not even in the same university, you know.”

“Well… actually… it’s not an exaggeration because it’s an understatement, really. Oh my… you have no idea how happy I am that you asked me out, actually. I’ve never felt so burned out recently. You not being my classmate take a lot of time getting used to.”

“You’re not used to being around that much of a girl circle now, do you?”

“It’s… It’s definitely different. The people I’m with now… I feel like they’re so pigeonholed into the one goal of the degree we’re all pursuing. I get that, but I’m naturally a fun and outgoing person so… having to stay back with them feels really hard, especially when I’m used to being with you and not taking things all too seriously while still making things work out. It feels impossible to do that now. I also kinda miss us walking home together and sharing some street food on the way to the apartment like we did before. I can’t do that now because… I need to be high profile to blend in. It sucks for my wallet, too.”

“Did I mishear you or did you just tell me that you missed me?”

Yujin nearly choked from her chocolate mix as she supressed a laugh. That was not really intentional.

“Maybe I did… this entire thing of us going out felt so refreshing to me. I’m being serious now.”

“Well, if that’s the case… I’m happy that I thought of asking you when I did. I just figured that maybe it was high time for us to catch up on a couple different axes. I also figured things have come really differently on our first semester away from each other. I was wondering how you’re dealing with the change.”

“I don’t think I have to worry about you now, do I?” She said; keeping her keen eyes planted on my drink at the desk. “I heard a lot from Kyungsoo-oppa. He told me that you’ve been hanging out a lot with them at bars every weekend. Is that true?”

“Umm…”

Well, technically…

“If that’s really the case, then I’m really envious. I don’t think I’ve touched a single glass of alcohol since we parted ways…. By the way, what did you order? What’s in your cup? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

What?

Yujin’s sudden interest to whatever I ordered really threw me off, but then again she was always like this. I was just starting to take in what was going on with her when she grabbed the drink from my end of the table and brought it closer to her face. Yujin then eyed the contents through the small hole of the straw, even closing her other eye to get a better view at it.

“What flavour is this, Jae-in? I don’t think I’ve tried this out before. It looks like a cookie and vanilla mix.”

“Oh uhh… it’s apparently called a Snow Leopard. I got it because I love cookies and cream flavoured things. It’s good. Try it out.”

With that, Yujin nodded and immediately went off to sip from my straw; her eyes lighting up. She then took her drink and slid it on the table towards my side as if beckoning me to taste the very thing I ordered for her. I casually took the drink and took a sip from her straw and my taste buds were immediately filled with the unusual chocolate flavour. I did not expect less from a triple chocolate mix that Yujin dearly loves.

“Damn… that was an experience. I might try that out for myself some time,” she exclaimed as she returned my drink to my side of the table. “I might have drank a bit so it’s a bit lesser than… yeah. You get it.”

“Don’t worry. I expected nothing less, Ahn Yujin.”

She slapped my arm and in turn smiling towards my direction.

“Well, anyway I’ll head us back to the topic at hand before I got distracted. I heard a lot of deals from Kyungsoo, you know; some of which even surprised me so much.”

“I actually did not expect Kyungsoo to tell you something, but that’s not saying that I didn’t want you hearing about me. It’s not like I’m hiding it or anything. It’s just… I was expecting that you’d know soon but from either Kino or Shinwon, not Kyungsoo. I wonder how that went down…”

“I’ll have you know, it was Kyungsoo who told me because he felt so concerned towards you. He didn’t entirely tell me of everything, because in his head those still deserve to be told by you. All he told me was things have been rough for you lately, and asked me to check on you whenever I had the time. They said you’ve pretty much gone incognito from them, especially recently. I guess when you asked me out for this one, maybe it was a huge deciding factor for me to go as well.”

“So I guess he knew that I’d reach you at some point. He’s not wrong. Be it that I’m reaching you out because I want to catch up on a couple of different matters, there’s no denying that thing have been crazy rough lately, especially the couple last weeks. Let’s just say that I’m dealing with the aftermath of that, as you know it affected me now less than it did with… with someone named Jeon Soyeon.”

“Ah, so that’s her name, huh? Well then, we have all afternoon, Jae-in. Now I’m curious. Tell me the entire thing. Tell me how you and this Soyeon girl ended up, and why you decided to cut ties with her once you felt it was wrong.”

---

The one thing that Jae-in loved so much about Yujin was that she has always been a good listener.

She merely sat throughout the entire conversation, merely giving her best friend the occasional nods and shakes whenever there was an interesting detail with regards to the story, but of course included with that were the extreme reactions from Yujin’s rather expressive face. Given how confident he is with her, Jae-in elected to not only include his insights among everything that happened, but also the details he would normally reserve for himself; that included everything, especially intimate moments. As expected, Yujin gave him a face of alarm. The ghost of that expression seemed to have continued until he reached the latter part of his story.

“Well, I guess you can see now why I ended what was going on between us,” Jae-in said with a clear conclusion. “It’s crazy, right? We haven’t gotten halfway through the semester yet and I already have this on the bag. It speaks too much about how bothered I am with the sudden development.”

“My god, Jae-in… I didn’t expect this to be this involved! You know what, I haven’t met this girl yet and I already do not like the sound of everything. It feels like there’s nothing linking you together aside from your sudden outbursts of hormones, and that’s even trying to call it by the simplest of ways, believe me. You two are just horny, especially during all this.”

“I… I guess so…”

“You know, the fact that it turned out the way it did, it somehow reminded me of your ex. I’m sure that I’m not the only one who felt that, right?”

“That’s… well, most of the reason why I chose to back off largely was because of Wonyoung. Things have been… I don’t even know how to put it out, actually. I just felt that it was wrong to continue because it was something that I never wanted in the first place. It sucks that it even had to go to that degree that it was already too difficult to let her go given the circumstances. At this point, I’m just happy that I pulled it off.”

“As you should,” Yujin replied earnestly. She then proceeded to place her now-empty drink over the table and cross her legs afterwards. “My god, I could not even imagine how much of a sump we’ll have to go through again if she ended up being like exactly like Wonyoung. I would not be surprised if she did. I mean, look at her; she’s pretty much a girl who could get any guy she would like. They tend to get really reactive and loud expressing their feelings but when they don’t get what they want, the results would automatically be a disaster for the guy… for you, Yoon Jae-in.”

“Ummm…”

“Damn, can you imagine how things turned out with you and Wonyoung from before? Do you still remember how she hated me so much just for the fact that you’re my best friend… it’s as if I could do something about that? Hello…? What am I supposed to do? I’m not even wedging myself between you two and she acts as if we’re having sex in the dark.”

Jae-in chuckled.

“I do remember that; of course. We almost never go out together even for a small lunch out because he’s always like a detective watching me all the time. It’s so uncomfortable. I can’t even nod or greet you when we bump into each other while you have Wonyoung walking beside you, Jae-in. One small eye-contact between us, I immediately get a glare from her, Oh my god; I think she wants me to stop being your best friend back then. She wants me to be invisible when you’re around, like what the fuck?”

Jae-in chuckled and Yujin smiled at his reaction.

“You know, Yujin, now that I’m openly talking about this, that’s pretty much how it turned out before. You know how Wonyoung and I always argued about you; that she’s threatened of our friendship given how our relationship developed from us initially being best friends as well. She always thought that at some point, I’ll give her up for you. I’m pretty sure that it did happen, you know; I chose you as my best friend instead of sulking on our doomed relationship anyway.”

“Jae-in, hearing all this from you makes me want to go out and eat lunch with you, but not a normal one. We should make sure that Wonyoung sees it as well, just so we can show her how our friendship thrived further the moment that she was out of the picture. I want to show her that a guy and a girl could be friends without falling for each other.”

“You… you talk as if we didn’t really try to make something else out of this,” Jae-in remarked calmly. “In a way, we’re not really a good example for that, all things considered.”

“Well, the keyword was we DID try to make something out of it. It just didn’t feel right. I never thought that I’d ever be awkward to you, and I don’t want that one week of attempted dating to happen again between us. We’re soul mates Jae-in, and maybe that means that we’re destined to be the best of friends since the very beginning.”

“If you put it out that way, it makes me feel so happy that we chose friendship instead of making something impossible out of this one. You always had my back, Yujin. I’ll always be grateful for that”

“We didn’t work out, Jae-in, because I know that I’m not really your type,” Yujin said with a tone of humour, covering her mouth with her hand in the process. “And that’s okay for me, you know. I have no problems with it.”

“Wait, wait, that’s interesting, since you brought it up, what do you think my type is, exactly? What does Ahn Yujin think of Yoon Jae-in’s ideal girl and that is in terms of a lot of factors. Let’s hear you enumerate everything.”

“Ahh, so we’re in that stage now, hmm?” Yujin said before shifting her place on the couch and then rubbing her palms together. “Now this is interesting. Are you asking this from me so that you can confirm the similarities with what I’m about to say?”

“Maybe… or perhaps I could get an idea because I felt like I haven’t been running standards for a long time. It doesn’t have to be so complex, and you can base it on the previous people I’ve taken a liking on.”

“Well, I can’t do everything because we might take all afternoon… how about three?”

“Fair. Let’s do that.”

“Good enough. Well for starters, girls that are way too feminine do not pique your interest in any way, Jae-in. I’m pretty sure you are aware of that. You don’t like the typical text-book reserved, campus-crush kind of deal. You don’t like girls who are very well known because they are using fame to be something else. I get that it’s not that bad, but you’re not just into it because it feels fake. Does that make any sense?”

“It’s not something I would expect to come from you but I think I can understand it.”

“Good. Next, you’re more into people with strong personalities, which conflicts the other interest I just mentioned. I don’t know, but there’s a thin line between people you like who are have a very strong presence but not being over-all too feminine and vulgar about at the same time. I can get understand it in my head but I can’t find the words for it. I’ve been you friend for so long and I think I can understand it without words. I mean, I’ve met some people who were so timid and shy on the face value and yet they’re much defined once you get to know them. It’s kind of like that.”

The fact that she knows so much about me, up to this degree is somehow amazing and scary at the same time. It makes me wonder if I’m that much obvious whenever I’m with her.

But then again, maybe I am. I’m just that comfortable when I’ve with Yujin that I don’t seem to mind what kind of stories I spill to her. This conversation was way more yielding than I thought.

“Now for the last one, this one feels more like an observation from my end but somehow attracted to mature girls. It does not necessarily mean that you’re into girls that are older than you, but often enough age is often associated with maturity so I guess things tend to curve that way when it’s all said and done. It correlates. I guess there’s that sense of security that you get when it comes to people like that. In a way, it perfectly concludes all of the points I’ve stated previously.”

“I don’t think that… that it’s entirely true for Wonyoung. I mean, our ages are not that far apart you know.”

“Honestly, Wonyoung or even the Soyeon girl does not fit any of the traits I have mentioned. That explains why it was not a surprise that you decided to cut it off. On Wonyoung, I could understand, because at least you two developed from friends, but for the Soyeon girl, I guess it was pretty self-explanatory.”

“I guess so… I suddenly became conscious of the traits you mentioned, you know. I can’t bring myself to not consider them the next time that I take a liking into someone…”

“And you should, so that you won’t just fall on someone who barely even fits your standards. At least by then you’d be able to sort things out for yourself. I get it, Jae-in; love is one huge trial and error, but how many errors are you planning to bust through that you’ll finally let yourself loose for the world, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Jae-in, you’re a very soft, kind-hearted person and that’s about one thing that I really love about you. I’m pretty sure that I’m not the first one who said that, but on times like these it’s working against you. You need to learn when to say ‘no’ and keep you standards to yourself, because at the end of the day you still need to look after yourself. Can’t date ever girl in the world to find out if you’re compatible or not, right?”

“I’m trying to keep that in mind, Yujin… it’s just that with this Soyeon situation, I let it unfold to a painfully hard situation to get out of before I even began to make a move. It’s a mistake I don’t intend to do again.”

Jae-in sat there in silence, keeping his gaze peeled towards the empty drink he had in front of him. He may have stayed in that state for so long that Yujin grew concerned. There was a sudden, surprising sensation from his left side, only for it to be revealed to be from Yujin’s end. Somehow through the silence, she placed her hand over his as an act of affirmation and assurance. She then clasped it, making sure that Jae-in felt the presence of her then and there.”

“Don’t think of it badly, Jae-in. I’m not blaming you for everything that happened to you. In fact, I really admire your courage for being honest to the girl. No one should take away the emotions you battled while you’re at it, as well. Also… as much as I’m trying to force these sorts of ideas unto you, in the end we’re still human beings. Things could not be bound ideally, as they say.

“Finding a perfect person definitely involves a bound of luck as well as a good stroke of fate. You’ll never know when you’ll meet her, or if you’ve even met her already. The range of your destiny could be someone you’ve already spent a long time being with to someone you accidentally tripped over on the way home. It’s easier once you let your heart welcome it instead of your mind.”

I honestly don’t know if she’s aware of the mixed messages she’s sending about. However, there’s no denying that things like this are pretty hard to understand. In fact, a woman’s heart is hard to understand, as I heard someone wise once said.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” Yujin said finally, returning them both back to earth once again as she shook her head. “We should go, Jae-in; we’ve stayed so long here that we’re already hogging the best seat in the entire shop. Besides, I want to walk the park for a bit if you’re game. Shall we?”

And with one final nod, Jae-in agreed. The preparation to leave was as quick as the decision to do so with Yujin being the first one to head on off for them both. However, as Yoon Jae-in and Ahn Yujin walk towards the wide doors of the welcoming shop, the young man was dazed with the apparition of their final conversation; clearly curious as to what kind of destiny the future holds for a guy like him.

He has a feeling that fate would confirm his destiny very soon.

---

Next Chapter: Black Swan

#kpop series #kpop story #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #ive yujin #gidle soyeon #jang wonyoung

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frozenjokes · 2 months

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CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (1/3)

I absolutely refuse to go through an add italics to the tumblr versions of my fics but grian is so angry all of the time it was necessary in this case

“So let me get this straight.” Grian, well, CuteGuy stood over HotGuy, the hero’s head pinned under his own boot. It was times like these that Grian considered ditching the boots altogether; wrapping his talons around any hero’s face like this would be an absolute sight, but alas, he wasn’t trying to get painful calluses all over his feet. Grian was sure HotGuy could escape this if he wanted to; he’d just have to roll to knock Grian off, but he stayed still, staring up at Grian with those big, pathetic eyes. “You want my help with your romantic endeavors. You want to pretend fight so you can pretend win, yeah? Impress that special someone?”

Grian knew who it was, of course. Not because HotGuy announced it or because it was on the news, no, but because this certified idiot had set his sights on Cub. Cub! His roommate Cub. What could HotGuy even want from a guy like Cub- just a guy! A human, not even a conventionally attractive human, who hardly knew anything about heroes and villains other than their names! Cub, who worked a shitty job with a shitty manager, who basically did nothing but go on little walks and hang out at home- there was nothing about Cub that stood out, so why in the fuck was HotGuy so- Grian hissed, pressing a little harder on HotGuy’s head, who grunted. HotGuy didn’t get to have Cub. Cub wasn’t- HotGuy didn’t even know him! He didn’t get to take Cub- his Cub- and turn him into some kind of hero worshiper!

“Stop looking at me like that!” Grian’s anger reached its boiling point, though HotGuy didn’t flinch, looking more disappointed than anything.

To his credit, he did look away, pursing his lips, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the idea.” The infuriating amicable lilt to his voice stayed even despite his face being crushed against the pavement, and Grian wanted nothing more than to choke it out of him.

“What gave you that idea?” Grian snarled, and HotGuy shrugged.

“When you’re really pissed off you start drooling, and honestly, it’s quite gross. Are you stressed? Have you considered Xanax? Does wonders for me on bad days.”

“My insurance won’t renew my prescription and my doctor fucking sucks.”

“Ah, I feel you buddy. I mean, I basically live in a hospital, but sometimes I need some more benign stuff and it just feels like the whole system is out to get you! Don’t even get me started on before I got into the hero business, gosh. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you were far from my first choice. I asked The Goat, but he told me that would be a monumental waste of his time, Mumbo told me he wouldn’t be convincing enough and also to stop calling him he’s retired, I haven’t seen Worm Man for years but I’m still looking-“

“How many people did you ask before me?” Grian tried not to be offended, but honestly, he was very offended- HotGuy has the gall to ask favors then admit Grian wasn’t his first choice? Why not? He knew why. But why not???

“Anyone I could find, really. I mean, heroes are easy enough to track down, but a lot of them are busy and also don’t give a fuck, but villains kinda just wander around and cause problems wherever. Though, I figured if I stood here long enough you’d jump me like you did last time. Hey, by the way, if you see Poultry Man, will you tell him I’d like to talk?”

Grian seethed; he had seen HotGuy up on the apartment complex where they had fought last and assumed he was looking for Cub- was Grian really that predictable?

“The last thing Poultry Man would want to do is help you impress some guy you don’t even know- what’s the deal anyway? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”

“Hey! I know Cub plenty! We had such a nice walk the night you broke my visor and then a lovely lunch date the next day! Well- maybe not a date. I don’t know, I never asked what he thought. I kind of don’t want to know, though. And I wasn’t going to ask Poultry Man to help me do anything, I just wanted to talk to him about all the chickens he released into the poor woman’s home- it’s not important-“

“Poor woman? She’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not important,” Scar strained, and Grian felt the tiniest bit vindicated, “All I meant to say is that I would feel bad beating the shit out of Poultry Man, even if it was just pretend. He’s just a misguided guy in a chicken costume.

“Misguided?” Grian’s hiss cracked into a higher pitch, “Poultry Man is EVIL. Poultry Man could CRUSH YOU. What makes you think you’re any match against him, huh? Really.”

“I mean, his costume looks a bit bulky, not great for maneuvering. I doubt he can see very well out of the mask, too. I don’t know, maybe he’s like, secretly ripped or something, but I still don’t think he could do much damage.”

“You’ll regret underestimating him when you’re taking your last breaths under his claws.”

“Oh, I hope not! I just wanted to chat about where he got those chickens, but you’re nice for standing up for him! You’re a good friend, CuteGuy.”

“I-“ Grian felt his body short circuit for a moment, everything replaced with the type of fury that can only be released by picking someone up and violently shaking them. HotGuy was perfectly polite about it, enduring Grian’s fit of rage before hanging somewhat limply in his arms, not even using his own legs to stand after Grian was done. HotGuy stared. Grian stared back.

“You’re strong.”

“Fuck you.” Grian dropped HotGuy, who just collapsed, wholly unready to support his own weight. Fine. Good. With a few strong beats of his wings, Grian took off, leaving HotGuy firmly in the dust. Flying was good and the evening breeze was good and if shaking someone annoying wasn’t enough to make them stop being annoying, then it was time to let it go. Something Grian was famously bad at.

When he looked back HotGuy was still just laying there, INFURIATINGLY, just staring at the sky! He wasn’t even looking at Grian, he was just completely zoned out-! What was his damn problem?

Grian’s boots cracked against the cement on either side of HotGuy’s waist, and HotGuy screamed, so genuinely frightened, Grian was pretty sure the noise would color his memory for the rest of his life. “Where are you meeting him?”

“What?” HotGuy squeaked, and the sound was just as beautiful.

“Where do you want me to be for your stunt?”

“I-I was going to meet Cub at the City Park-“

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me arrested? You’ll meet here, in the parking lot across the street at 9:00. And I don’t do play fights, but if you shoot me I’ll rip you a new one. And I want $500.”

“That’s- a lot of money-“

“You won’t miss it. You and your piece of shit rich friends spend that kind of change like it’s nothing on designer clothes and cocaine. And I want to see your sorry face when you’re forced to cough it up after I flatten your ass then steal your man.”

“You- why are you so mean to me? Hey- you are not allowed to-“ Grian didn’t let him finish, beating his wings hard enough to batter HotGuy’s face before taking off, definitively this time.

Perfect. This was going to be fun.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitshipping #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #cubfan135 #cubfan #hotguy #cuteguy #poultry man #if it wasn’t obvious grian is both cuteguy and poultry man and many other villain alliases #convex #cubscar #grub

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nonsensicalramblings79 · 7 months

Text

Dead Seagull: Do Not Eat – Albatrosses, Seagulls, and Guilt in Our Flag Means Death

(for future reference: written 10/6/2023, ~36-48 hours after the first 3 episodes of S2 were released)

Hi, all! I, like many of you scrolling the #ofmd meta tag, have a head filled with nothing but the Gay Pirates. This has been the case since 12am PST on 10/5/2023 and will remain the case for several months to come. On my 3rd watch-through of the first 3 episodes of season 2 of OFMD, I started paying closer attention to potential symbolism so that I could maybe predict how the rest of the series is going to play out and get a better idea of what’s going on in these little guys’ brains. This post is the introduction to a short series of long posts wherein I rant about symbolism that may or may not be in the show. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I haven’t written anything even close to a literary analysis since high school, and I generally don’t know wtf I’m talking about. I’m just having a lot of very normal thoughts about The Pirate Show and I need to put them somewhere; if anyone has more ideas relating to this please add to it!! And to the best of my knowledge, the thoughts I express here are my own – please let me know if there are other analyses that say similar things that I should link to.

TWs: animal death, blood, eating animals, starvation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gunshot injuries, suicidal ideation, canon-typical mental health problems

MAJOR OFMD SPOILERS THROUGH S2E03!!!

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

What originally prompted this whole rabbit-hole exploration was the conversation that Ed has with Frenchie at the end of s2e01.

…

You know there's a bird that never touches ground?

It's born in the air. Never once lands. Spends its entire existence in the sky. …

As Frenchie astutely notes, this seems…kind of impossible. How could a bird be born in the air? I could see potentially never landing, but surely every bird has to come down at some point to lay eggs (or to hatch from them), right? So I did a quick Google search for birds that spend their whole lives in the air, and the first result that came up was the common swift, which apparently spends up to 10 months out of the year in the air, never once landing (or only landing very occasionally) during that time. They catch food in the air, sleep while drifting on air currents, mate in the sky, and only land to nest and lay their eggs.

So that seemed…promising? I guess? But not exactly what Ed was talking about. After all, these birds aren’t “born in the air,” and they certainly don’t spend their entire life without landing. And this still could be what Ed was talking about; it matches fairly closely, and it’s possible that whatever Ed heard was either mis-told, misheard, or intentionally exaggerated. But I think there’s a more elegant answer to what bird Ed is referencing here, and it has much more potential for analysis than the common swift: the albatross.

This is the second thing that I found while searching, and this piqued my interest much more than the last result, since - as many of you probably know, spending time reading tumblr metas – the albatross is an extremely pervasive metaphor in literature. It usually represents a psychological burden that one has taken on, most often as a result of having made a mistake that resulted in others getting hurt. I’ll go into more detail about the source of this symbol in a little bit, but the basic gist is that a dead albatross gets hung around one’s neck until whatever guilt they have is resolved – albatrosses are huge birds, so this represents an enormous weight.

Before I go on, I’ll add that, at first glance, the albatross actually seems to fit Ed’s description less well than the common swift does – albatrosses are known for being able to glide for a long, long time, but they do land…on the water. One of the first things that comes up when you search for “birds that never land” is that albatrosses spend years and years never landing on shore. There’s a similar problem here to the common swift in that no bird actually hatches from an egg while in the air like Ed is implying here. But I would argue that the albatross is indeed what Ed is talking about. Whether he misheard, someone misspoke, or a tale got distorted from it being verbally passed down, Ed is referencing the image of an albatross that spends its entire life above (or on) the sea, never once going to land.

And this fits. In the context of the conversation that Ed is having with Frenchie, Ed is lamenting the fact that he can only exist in one place, fulfilling one role – on the sea, performing the role of Blackbeard. He imagines the life of this fictional albatross as quite lonely, I think, never once leaving the place it has spent its entire life (again, this isn’t exactly how the birds behave, but I believe Ed views them this way based on how he’s interpreted whatever he heard about albatrosses). He’s resigning himself to never leaving his habitat, and quite literally never going back to shore.

“…We’re gonna sail…rob…raise hell forever…and ever…without end.”

Right. So, if I am to be believed, we’ve established that Ed is actually diegetically referencing albatrosses. So what?

Well, as another disclaimer, I’m not 100% sold on these ideas myself. Especially only having the first 3 episodes of S2 to go off of, there’s plenty of time for these ideas to be proven wrong in as few as – checks watch – 6 days. There are lots of different, potentially overlapping, potentially conflicting ways to interpret this information. I’m probably going to split this up into parts, for ease of access and reading. Because all this so far has just been the introduction :))

In one part, I’m going to talk about what is probably the most intentional reference: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the original poem that the albatross metaphor is pulled from. Beyond just the link to the “Impossible Birds” conversation, there are some other elements in OFMD that seem like pretty clear references to this poem. Based on references to this poem in popular culture, I suspect that parallels here would be non-diegetic – meant to be apparent to the audience, not to the in-universe characters. Link Here!

Next, I’m going to talk about another poem, simply titled “The Albatross” (French: L’albatros). This particular poem is maybe less likely to have inspired references in OFMD, but if there is an intentional link, this poem reflects a lot of how Ed sees himself and his life thus far. I’ll admit that I’m a bit biased toward this poem since I had to memorize it in French class in high school and it’s stuck with me – but it was also one of the first things on Wikipedia that was linked on the page of the metaphor of the Albatross. Parallels in this poem are what I would suspect to be diegetic – despite it being an anachronism, I think Ed has at some point read this poem, and he relates to the albatross/poet. [Link Here!]

Lastly, there are some loose ends that I’d like to pick up that may not tie into anything, but I feel like they’re worth mentioning, especially as they relate to the albatross metaphors and parallels. This section is going to talk more generally about birds and bird imagery in OFMD, and how these instances can support or refute my albatross theories. [Link will go here: haven't written yet :)]

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2 meta #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 meta #ofmd blackbeard #stede bonnet #albatross #the rime of the ancient mariner #literary analysis #media analysis #frenchie ofmd #izzy hands #lucius spriggs

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aecu · 2 years

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nct 7 dream kinks and fav sex positions

cracking my knuckles.. alright let me tackle this

mark

just based off of his personality, he might be a bit vanilla to start, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t open to exploring a bit! i could see mark being into some light choking and i’m almost 100% he would not be able to resist slapping your ass a few times if he was hitting it from the back. he would never admit it, but he absolutely has a thing for cumming inside you. it’s filthy, but he loves the way his cum looks when it’s dripping out of you. i’ve definitely written him as a harder dom before, but overall he’s probably fairly tame sexually. my knowledge on sex positions is very limited so some of these answers might be a bit boring/predictable but i think he would really enjoy doggy and sometimes missionary when he’s not feeling like a nervous wreck

renjun

renjun is like my favorite kind of person.. i love writing about people with really artsy personalities (like him and ningning) because i feel like it translates so well into all the aspects of their lives!! he doesn’t seem like someone who would be very kinky (as a dom) but i think he loves embracing the romantic side of sex. i really like thinking of him as the type to have a playlist for whenever you guys have sex. i do think he’s a bit switch-y though! he’s not afraid to let you have your way with him when you’re in charge. although he’s not in my nct masochist line (yes i have one), he’s not opposed to you hurting him just a little. pulling his hair hard enough so that he knows you’re not playing around, edging him a couple times, just little things here and there. i’ve already said he loves really intimate sex so i think missionary is kind of a given favorite position, but also he can be a little lazy sometimes so he might just resort to fucking you on your side

jeno

hear me out. i know jeno is really muscular and he just has the vibe of someone who would be super dominant, but i really love the idea of him being a switch. he has a strength kink, there’s no doubt in my mind that he does, but i can’t be the only one who would find it hot if he let you dom him despite having more than enough strength to pin you down and take you if he really wanted to. anyway, he’s a sweet guy but he’s definitely not afraid to be mean. he loves that nice blend of praise and degradation that makes you feel like there’s butterflies inside you (pretty slut, etc), and pushing you so close to your breaking point before he finally lets you cum. sub wise, i think degrading him is my favorite concept i’ve ever come up with. riding him and telling him how useless he is while you look into his eyes.. it’s just my favorite thing ever. like teasing him about how he needs you to make him feel good and how he doesn’t know what to do with his big cock.. sorry guys as you can see i’m very passionate about this. anyway! his favorite positions.. loves taking you against the wall (meaning your chest to the wall while he fucks you from behind) and another standard doggy lover

haechan

(sorry in advance i’m largely biased here) THEE switch of nct dream. a bit of a sadomasochist, he can be so mean when he wants to and is also more than willing to let you rough him up a LOT. when i say he’s mean, i mean that he would probably love straight up degradation. obviously he’s okay with blending degradation and praise if that’s what you’re into, but he would love making you feel dirty with nothing but his words. telling you how filthy you are for letting him touch you.. he’s not afraid to make you cry either. he would play the doting dom role so well it makes my head spin. i don’t know how much he’d be into extreme physical sadism, like i don’t see him being someone who’s hitting you with paddles or anything like that, but he’s not against giving you a firm slap on the cheek either. when he’s subbing, he lives for your degradation. i’ve talked about this before, but haechan has openly said that he loves being scolded/yelled at, so i think it’s kind of a given that he likes it when you’re mean to him. he’s the type to like being on his knees for you, getting used in whatever way you see fit. and even if he refuses to admit it, he loves it when you edge him, ruin his orgasms or overstimulate him. it hurts in a way that he can’t get enough of.. if he’s domming, he’s willing to fuck you in whatever ways you’ll let him. i think he would enjoy missionary the most because it gives him clear access to your neck. if he’s subbing, i personally think he would love it when you ride him (cowgirl), but tie his hands up behind his back so that he can’t touch you.

jaemin

jaemin has always been kind of interesting to me. i see him the same way i see jaehyun (lazier dom), but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. he likes making you do a lot of the work because it gets him off whenever he sees you beg for him to do something. he can more active when he wants to though, another member who’s not above roughing you up and making you cry a bit. he’s not someone i can see subbing often, if at all, because i think he enjoys having control over you more than anything. the closest he gets to subbing is letting you take the lead, but still making it very clear that you aren’t who’s in charge. besides making you cry, he loves using condescending tones with you. confusing your poor, fogged up brain while he fucks you with phrases like “i thought you said you couldn’t cum anymore? but you’re cumming around me right now anyway. too dumb to know what you want.” it’s his favorite thing to do. regardless, he loves it when you ride him. it’s always his #1 choice over everything else

chenle

chenle is a little hard for me to read. he kind of gives me that same lazy dom energy as jaemin except he’s really just cruel to you sometimes. will flat out refuse to fuck you if you stop fucking yourself onto him when he tells you to, he’s willing to edge you for days and might even fuck you without letting you cum just to see how desperate he can get you.. i don’t know what you’d call this or if it’s even a kink but your desperation is what gets him off. he’d do anything to see how whiny you get before you can’t take it anymore and end up groveling at his feet, begging him to touch you. favorite position is doggy but you have to do 90% of the work

jisung

he would start off super vanilla, almost too afraid to touch you out of fear that he’ll do something wrong and humiliate himself. it would take him a decent amount of time before he gets comfortable enough to start experimenting with you and asking if you’re willing to try something new with him. maybe he sees a video of a girl getting choked or getting her face fucked, and it makes him curious to see what you would look like in that position. i don’t think he would end up being into something like slapping very much, he’s still far too afraid to hit you, but he thinks you look so beautiful with his hand around your neck. he could eat you out and finger you for hours too, he gets so much pleasure from seeing you cum around him. another one who loves cumming inside anytime you’ll allow it. probably likes missionary the most, i couldn’t see him being into anything aside from really standard/common positions

#sorry this took forever i actually tried a little #i hope you like it :((#mark lee smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #asks

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their-destinys-writer · 8 months

Text

Akuma Flashpoint - Chapter 2

Rated: M

Chapters: 2/?

Chapter Summary: Marinette gets a new reality check.

Info: Canon compliant up to Season 3, Episode 'Ladybug'. Miracle Queen never happened. Canon divergent from that point forward, but might borrow a few details from later seasons. Very loosely inspired by DC's Flashpoint Paradox (the animated movie). Updates on the last Monday of every month.

Ao3 | Wattpad

A/N: Shout out to @art-the-f-up for the amazing art in this chapter.

First | Next

The Vigilante

Marinette stared after Adrien’s disappearing figure, still dumbstruck with his attitude. It was so unlike him to be hostile, even with his own father, who was a supervillain. There wasn’t something wrong.

Everything was wrong.

She stared at her surroundings. It was like the world was completely unaware of how wrong it was. People were walking past her, going about their business like any other morning. Speaking and texting on their phones. Drinking hot beverages. Rushing past, bumping her shoulder, with a croissant in their mouth.

A teen rode by in a bicycle at the edge of the street, past a puddle, splashing Marinette with dirty drain water. The woman raised her knee fruitlessly, for the damage was done. Her baby blue pajama pants were soaked.

Was she in a nightmare?

Marinette took a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of control. Yes, Adrien walking away rattled her, but she had to figure out how to fix this. And in that moment, there was only one being who was willing to talk hiding in her own jacket.

In a blink of an eye, she was running across the sidewalk, looking for the nearest alley, while trying two more phone numbers. She found an alley, but there was a couple making out in it. She ran further, until finding a dirtier one, next to an abandoned building. She sat down next to the vandalized trashcan and finally opened her jacket. The kwami immediately fluttered out into the open.

“What is going on?!” Marinette whispered yelled.

“What is going on with you?” Tikki shot back. “You’re acting more deranged than usual.”

“Since when do you call me deranged? No, I got a better question: since when are you so huffy with me?”

“Did you drink something new when I wasn’t looking?”

“I feel like I’m stuck in some nightmare reality.” Marinette held her arms. “Nothing is right. Alya is not answering her phone. I can’t find Nino’s or Chloe’s phone numbers anywhere, Luka and Kagami won’t pick up either, and worse, Adrien and I are not together, apparently.”

Tikki stared at her again, much like she did back in the strange apartment.

“Nino?”

“Yeah, Nino. You know, Carapace.” Marinette shrugged. “I can’t get a hold of my team. And so many of their phone numbers are missing. And you said this phone is mine!” She grabbed the phone again. “But I tried to find Alix, and she’s also missing. I mean, this has to be some time travel thing, right?”

“Marinette,” Tikki said slowly, “did you get hit with a memory loss akuma or something?”

The woman thought for a moment. What was the last thing she remembered before this morning? She had been, in fact, fighting an akuma, right? But it wasn’t a time travelling one. Or memory one. In fact, they had just figured out their power, right? Her power. It had been a her. All they knew about her was that her name was The Genie. She claimed to make wishes come true.

Marinette’s eyes widened.

“I was fighting an akuma,” she said out loud. “The last thing I remember was that I was trying to distract her from Chat Noir. He was off his game because it was the day before Gabriel’s sentencing, and we didn’t expect for him to break out for a last hurrah. But,” her brows furrowed, “she suddenly went after me. Genie held me against a wall and told me I was predictable. I didn’t even say anything before she said that my wish was her command. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a strange apartment, alone, with you not even talking to me.”

Tikki seemed even more bewildered.

“What did you wish for?” she asked.

“I can’t…” Marinette racked her brain. Why couldn’t she remember wishing something? Unless she didn’t exactly wish it on purpose. She gasped. “I didn’t directly wish it, but I was thinking it.”

“What?!”

“I-I…I was thinking that I didn’t want Adrien to fight his own father.”

Tikki squinted. “Why? Those two argued all the time. Probably still do.”

“No, not like that,” Marinette tried to clear up, even if she wasn’t sure what information this Tikki needed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but for me, Adrien and I had to fight Gabriel as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Gabriel, who turned out to be Hawkmoth—”

“Wait, what?!” the kwami screeched.

Marinette slightly jumped. “What?”

“You think Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth?!”

“I don’t think; I know,” Marinette cleared up. “You don’t?”

Tikki gaped for a minute. She then took a deep breath and put her tiny paws together.

“Please finish your story.”

“Well,” Marinette continued, “I was just feeling sad for Adrien, seeing him having to fight his own father. It broke my heart.”

“So you wished that Chat Noir didn’t have to fight Hawkmoth?”

“I think I did.” A hand covered her mouth. “Not intentionally, or without even thinking that I wished it. But apparently that didn’t matter.”

“So, you said you fought alongside…Chat Noir?” Tikki asked slowly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Marinette said in an incredulous tone.

“Marinette,” the kwami said, her voice tuning anxious, “I think you changed reality!”

Art by @art-the-f-up (thank you again!)

“Th-That’s… That’s not possible!” the woman argued. “The only miraculouses capable of doing that are the ladybug and cat ones, and only if they’re together. There’s no way an akuma can be powerful enough to do that.”

“If they can be powerful enough to travel through time, why not change reality? You don’t know the butterfly effect it can have to change one little thing.”

“But how can me not wanting Adrien to fight his own father change reality? Shouldn’t it have made the akuma disappear, or make Genie unable to touch him, or something?”

“I think the akuma took a more sinister route,” Tikki lamented.

“What does that mean?” Marinette questioned, despite her fears about the answer.

Tikki hesitated. It took a deep breath for her to finally speak again.

“Adrien hasn’t been Chat Noir since you fought Stoneheart.”

Her heart beat loudly. That… didn’t sound right. It couldn’t be right. It made no sense. That would mean that…

“That’s not possible.” She shook her head. “No, I finished off Stoneheart because of Chat Noir. He was the only one who had faith in me. It’s how I’m still alive, in fact. If I hadn’t had Chat Noir as my partner, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Chat Noir never showed up again after the stadium. And hasn’t been seen ever since. He’s the partner who abandoned you.”

“No,” Marinette argued. “Adrien would never do that. He would never leave me on my own. Something must’ve happened.”

“And something did,” Tikki reminded. “The akuma. They changed the course of history. They must’ve taken his miraculous, which would also explain how Hawkmoth has been winning.”

“Hawkmoth is winning?!”

“Against the heroes, yes. Against Mayura, I’m not so sure.”

“Whatta you mean ‘against Mayura’?”

“They’re at war with each other. They’re not in your reality?”

“No! Mayura broke down. If it hadn’t been for her betraying Hawkmoth, we wouldn’t have finally caught him. We were the ones who won.”

There was a loud, booming noise somewhere heading south. Marinette and Tikki stared at each other.

“Akuma, right?”

“Or a sentimonster. Or both,” Tikki sighed. “It’s usually both.”

“Either way, we have to deal with…it…” Marinette trailed off, as she realized something important. “Tikki, if Chat Noir is not my partner, do I have anyone else on my team with a miraculous already?”

The kwami looked away. “Uuh…”

“Tikki,” Marinette pressed, “I do have a team, right?”

“Rena Rouge helps you, but you’re not a team.”

“What about all the others?!”

“We lost the miraculous box,” Tikki blurted at last. “You only have the bee miraculous, but you’ve been too scared to give it to anyone since—”

She stopped. Marinette leaned closer.

“Since what?”

“The point is that you don’t have a team,” the kwami said. “Just the vigilante, and the mysterious sidekick.”

“Who and who?”

“Rena Rouge, and some other person we don’t know about who occasionally helps.”

“Rena Rouge is a vigilante?”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“Dammit! Tikki, transform me!”

The familiar pink sparkles swirled around her body, as the suit replaced the clothes she had been wearing. Yet, despite the familiarity of transformation, the outfit didn’t feel right. She felt vulnerable, exposed. Ladybug looked down at herself, only to release a squeak. And immediately tripped on a pair of high heels under her feet.

What was supposed to be an armor that protected her against anything that dared hit her looked more like a nighttime club outfit. Or perhaps a stripper outfit would be more accurate to describe it.

Her shoulders, stomach and upper thighs were exposed. She wore a spotted top that went up to her neck, but that was about all the red she had. Her arms were covered by long, black gloves that ended on her elbows. As bottoms, she wore what looked like a black boy short.

Ladybug wobbled on the long, black boots that reached her thighs, wondering how she was supposed to fight in this… this… thing.

“Tikki, detransform!”

After another pink lightshow, the kwami questioned Marinette’s quick transformation.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FIGHT WHEN I’M DRESSED AS HALLOWEEN SLUTTY LADYBUG?!”

“But that’s your costume!”

“I can’t fight in high heels. I can barely stand on them!”

“I don’t have time to change your costume. I don’t know enough about the new you to mold it.”

Marinette groaned. It was one thing to fight alone, but it was a whole other level to battle hindered by the patriarchy under her feet.

“Just give me my old costume.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?!”

“It hasn’t been easy with my Marinette!” Tikki yelled. Something Marinette had never seen her own Tikki do in such context. “I can’t do what you’re asking! My powers are still not recognizing that you’re different.”

The kwami looked like she was about to cry. This reality had clearly not been kind to her, and it almost seemed like this universe’s Marinette had not made things easier.

“I’m sorry, Tikki,” she said. “I’m still very confused about things here, and I’m taking it out on you.”

To her horror, now the kwami was really crying. “That’s the first apology I’ve heard from you in years.”

“Am I really that awful?”

“I’ll see if I can at least flatten your shoes,” Tikki responded instead, wiping away her tears. “I’ll need some time to adjust your outfit to the new you.”

“Thank you. It’s enough to at least be coordinated.”

The kwami nodded. With the two of them ready, Marinette called upon her transformation again. She still felt practically naked, but at least she wasn’t tripping over her own feet. One thing was still familiar, though, and that was her ability with the yoyo. Soon enough, she was soaring through the air, feeling more breezy than usual.

In the distance, she could make out a large figure smashing buildings. Clearly a sentimonster, made up of cables and pieces of electronics like computers and televisions. With the shape much like a Japanese mecha. She got close enough to study the creature, but far enough that it couldn’t see her.

Okay, how do I deal with this without Chat Noir? She wondered. Before she got time to figure it out, she saw a blur of black and orange zip up the giant mecha, causing it to stumble and fall on its knees. After a better look, Ladybug could see a very different looking Rena Rouge standing on the shoulder of the sentimonster, holding her flute over her shoulder.

“Can’t stand up, can you?” she yelled, right before sticking the flute behind the creature’s neck. The sentimonster let out a head-splitting scream that made Ladybug cover her ears. When the noise stopped, she attempted to straighten up, but was immediately hit on the back of her head. Staggering away, she turned to see her attacker, to find them twirling a long ruler.

“Misbehaving children get punished,” she declared. “And you, Ladybug, have been one bad cookie.”

“Oh, a teacher akuma. How original,” Ladybug deadpanned. With a swift movement, she slid her leg across the ground, tripping the akuma. She was about to grab the ruler, but the enemy used it to knock away her yoyo. Ladybug had to dodge twice and roll away to get her weapon. Once she was finally upright again, the akuma was gone.

She cursed under her breath but decided to make her way to the sentimonster instead. If she could get the two of them close, she could use them against each other. Ladybug sprinted from rooftop to rooftop, her yoyo flying from chimney to railing at lighting speed. At last, it wrapped around one of the sentimonster’s arms.

“Need a hand?” she yelled at both the creature and Rena Rouge. But just before she landed a two-legged kick on the sentimonster, Rena Rouge hit it on the very spot she had been about to land. Ladybug had to swerve on the last minute, hitting her shoulder instead. “What the hell?!”

“Thanks for the offer, but no,” Rena Rouge responded, taking another swing with her flute. “Why don’t you focus on your monster, while I fight mine.”

Ladybug had landed on the ground after her kicking failure, her brows furrowing at the scolding. “What?” she said under her breath. She raised her head, with hands cupping her mouth as she yelled: “Whatta you mean my monster?! We can’t just beat them separately!”

There was another head-splitting scream from the sentimonster, as several televisions crashed merely inches away from Ladybug.

“Hey! Careful!”

“You’re gonna lead the other one here!” Rena Rouge yelled from the sentimonster’s shoulder.

“That’s the point!” And as if on cue, a figure jumped from the nearest building to where Rena Rouge was standing. “Gotcha.”

Ladybug threw her yoyo, grabbing the akuma’s leg and pulling. Unfortunately for the heroes, the moment the villain landed on the ground, her hand grabbed Rena Rouge’s ankle.

“Shit!” Ladybug started climbing the sentimonster, avoiding to accidentally pull both the akuma and Rena Rouge along. Just as she was reaching the creature’s chest, it let out another ear-splitting scream as it waved its hand, sending all three women flying and loosening the yoyo’s grip on the akuma, and the akuma’s grip on Rena Rouge.

A scream left Ladybug’s lips when she landed hard on a slanted rooftop. Nearby, Rena Rouge also landed, but started rolling down. When she was about to roll off, Ladybug threw her yoyo just in time to wrap it around the vigilante’s wrist, leaving Rena Rouge hanging off the edge. Ladybug quickly ran to her, making sure to not let her drop.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she pulled her up. But the second she reached out a hand, Rena Rouge slapped it away, climbing on her own instead.

“I don’t need your help,” she growled. “Now get out of my way.”

“Alya, can we please talk?”

“We don’t talk,” she snapped, before turning away. “And I’d like to keep it that way. I thought you knew that already.”

“This is important,” Ladybug insisted. “I figured we don’t talk, but you need to listen to me.”

“Find a wall. It’ll care more.”

Rena Rouge ran off and jumped to the next building, back in the direction of the sentimonster. Letting out a noise of frustration, Ladybug ran after her, until they were moving side by side.

“Rena, I’m sorry for every bad thing I’ve done to you. I wouldn’t be talking to you if it wasn’t important. And it is very important right now.”

“Not interested,” the vigilante responded in a sing-song tone.

“If you won’t talk to me, can you at least help me find Carapace?”

Rena Rouge skidded into a halt, and Ladybug followed, almost falling over. When she looked at her teammate—well, other timeline’s teammate, vigilante in this one—a look of pure hatred almost made her stumble back.

“Don’t ever, ever, talk to me again,” she said in a low growl. She then ran off again, not giving Ladybug a chance to retort.

“Rena, please!” she yelled after her, attempting to catch up again. “I just need to talk to someone that—”

But the rest of her sentence was replaced by a yelp when she had to suddenly dodge incoming mechanical debris. In the dodge, her skin scraped against the hot metal of the rooftop, burning her shoulder.

“Agh! How could I ever think this suit was a good idea?!” she complained. Ladybug made a mental note about fixing the suit once this was all over. In the meantime, she attempted to reach Rena Rouge again, who had stopped at the end of the block and was dodging several coffee makers.

“Rena, I get that maybe now is not the best time!” Ladybug yelled as she approached her friend. “But I need you to at least work with me on this! And if not, maybe talk to Carapace about—”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Rena Rouge screamed back, finally turning her attention to her. “DID YOU TAKE AN EXTRA DOSE OF CRAZY TODAY?! HOW DARE YOU INSULT NINO’S MEMORY LIKE THIS?!?!?!”

“Nino’s memory?” Ladybug breathed. There was only one reason anyone would say that phrase. “Nino is dead?”

Rena Rouge scoffed. “I knew you had gone crazy; but mocking my late fiancé?! That is a whole new low, Marinette!”

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#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #akuma flashpoint #ml af #ladrien #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #ladybug #rena rouge

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