#she consumes every waking thought of my life what can i say? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

absurdthirst · 2 months ago

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Trick or Treat {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3k

Warnings: Bodyswap AU, groping, masturbation (male and female), drug use, anxiety, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: At Dieter's annual Halloween Party, you meet a witch. Venting about your unappreciative boss, she decides that you should walk a mile in each other's shoes, only switching back when you make the right choices.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| 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.

It's Dieter's annual Halloween party and of course, you're stuck managing the catering and the bartenders and the drug dealers - basically overseeing the entire party - to make sure your boss is happy. Forget going out to get drunk and dress up. Every year you are Dieter's assistant turned party planner. The man himself is dressed up as a king. He wanted a comfortable costume and "there's nothing more comfortable than leggings" he had informed you. You sigh as you take a moment to rest, leaning against the wall as the party goers down shots and Dieter's laugh booms across the living room.

"Everything okay?" A woman approaches you, dressed in a witches costume and you think it looks good. Not tacky. Her pendulum sways around her neck and her eyes meet yours, making you want to confess your annoyance.

"I'm good. I - actually, no. I'm not good. My boss...he's a dick. He has no clue what I do for him. He gets to live a life of luxury, meanwhile, I'm running around fulfilling his every wish." You bitch and the woman tilts her head, "do you not think his life is hectic? Busy learning all those lines. Staying up all hours to film. It's not easy." She counters and you snort. "Oh yeah. Reading a fucking line and standing where they tell you. So hard." You scoff, "while I break my back getting him a fucking salad from that place in Goddamn Newport Beach. Traffic and - shit. I- I shouldn't be saying this." You finally catch yourself and she shakes her head. "I can help. Maybe you want him to see how hard it is to be you...maybe you can see how hard it is to be him." She says and you cross your arms, over her not just agreeing with your venting.

"Yeah, sure. He wouldn't survive a day being me. His life? I'd give anything to have it." You confess and she smirks, snapping her fingers in front of your face. "You'll see what his life is like." She promises and you stare at her, "are you high or something?" You ask and she chuckles, shaking her head as she walks off, a bag on her shoulder with a badge for a coffee shop you've been to for Dieter.

"Weird." You murmur, shaking your head as you continue rushing around to make sure this party is up to Dieter's standards. You don't realize when you finally collapse in bed that you won't be waking up there come morning.

Morning always comes slowly to Dieter. Even when he’s filming. He doesn’t wake up instantly and normally when you are prodding him out of bed, he’s already been awake for a few hours, but just can’t move. A combination of drugs and insomnia. He uses the drugs to help him sleep but no matter what, he can’t seem to sleep through the night. This morning, it’s off that the hangover he had been anticipating wasn’t throbbing in the back of his head and the blaring of the alarm nearly makes him jump a foot. He didn’t set an alarm. Maybe the person he had hopefully taken to bed had one on. “Huh?”

You wake up with a groan. Your head is absolutely aching and you feel like you’ve swallowed feathers. Your throat is dry and your first thought when you wake up is that you’re sick. Shit, Dieter won’t like you taking a day off or possibly getting him sick. You can’t win. You groan, rubbing your head and your eyes widen at the distinctly low register of your voice. Shit, you must be really sick. You shift to sit up, opening your eyes properly and they widen when you see you’re in Dieter’s bedroom. What the fuck? “Dieter?” You call out and you scream, your voice deep like your boss’s. You shuffle out of bed, feeling something between your legs and you look down and scream. You have a penis! A fucking cock! You’re naked and holy shit. You rush over to the mirror, screaming again when you see your reflection - Dieter’s reflection. You heave, trying to figure out if you’ve been drugged. You scramble to find Dieter’s phone, searching through the bed sheets until you find it. Unlocking it with the passcode you know, your - his - hands shake as you press your contact, hoping this is some kind of dream as you listen to the line ring.

His head shoots up from the pillows and he rolls over. “Fuck!” His chest hurts and he looks down to see if he rolled over on his pen or something and his eyes widen as he sees the sheets. These aren’t his sheets. He glances around the room, not his room. The phone blares again and he scrambles over to the table and his eyes widen when he sees his name ‘Dieter the Dick’ on the caller id. “Hello?”

“Dieter?” You ask, your stomach twisting at hearing your own voice. He screams, dropping the phone from his hand. “Why do you sound like me? Why do I sound like you?” He asks and you say “look in the mirror. What do you see?” You ask, wondering if this is some kind of sick joke.

Dieter rushes over towards a mirror attached to a dresser and screams again. Grabbing his/your face as he starts pulling at it. “Why do I look like you? What did you do? What kind of mask is this?” His panic subsided for a second and he leans in, “it’s really life-like. But what the FUCK is going on?!??!” When he dropped your phone, the speaker phone button had been hit, so you could hear everything he said clearly.

“I don’t know! I dont fucking know. I- I’m at your house and I- I have a dick and I look like you and oh God. How the fuck - what happened? How do we fix this?” You ask and he immediately says “how do you fix this?” You want to roll your eyes but you’re too panicked. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” You freak out, trying to fix this.

“Wait a minute….” Dieter frowns and looks down at the chest covered by a t-shirt. “That means I have tits!” He cries. “I have your tits! And a pussy!” Immediately, Dieter is lifting the shirt and flashing himself in the mirror. “Fuck, they’re nicer than I imagined.”

"Stop looking at my tits!" You yell at him down the phone. Your own eyes wandering along his naked form. He always sleeps naked. "Shit" You murmur as you look at his flaccid cock, still impressive and uncut like you always suspected since his parents brought him to America when he was a few years old.

“They’re my tits right now.” He can’t resist reaching up and squeezing them. “No wonder women like it when you play with them.” He grunts, teasing the hardening nipples. “This is really fuckin’ weird, but I kinda like it.”

“Oh my God.” You groan, mortified and annoyed that he’s molesting you. “I didn’t tell you you could touch my tits.” You hiss, “you want me fondling your balls?” You ask him, pissed off and intrigued as you look down at the cock between your thighs.

“Sure.” Dieter chuckles. “Find out how good it feels to scratch them.” He drops his hands away from the breasts since you seem so upright and he hums. “Do you shave or go au naturale?” He asks.

“Don’t you dare!” You hiss down the phone, knowing what he wants to do. “Fuck, Bravo. What are we gonna do - how did this happen - and oh my God, you’re touching my vagina, aren’t you?” You cringe, closing your eyes as if that will stop him.

“Nooooo.” Dieter lies, his hand in his pants and grinning at the smooth skin. “I’m not touching your freshly waxed pussy. Do you do that for a boyfriend? Or do you just like the way it feels? Oh- fuck, do you have a boyfriend? I can fuck him for you. I won’t mind. It would be interesting to see how it feels.”

You gasp, shocked but deep down not surprised. “No. No. That won’t be necessary. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend because I don’t have fucking time.” You growl before you gasp again. “The woman. Last night at the party. She - shit. That coffee shop. We need - we need to find her.” She snapped her fingers after you vented. Maybe she knows what happened. You’re grasping at straws but that’s all you can do.

“What are you talking about? What woman?” Dieter frowns, looking at your reflection in the mirror. “Did I have someone in the bed with me? You need to kick them out. I don’t know how you fuck. You can’t ruin my reputation.”

You growl, full of frustration. “Shut the fuck up. I- there’s no one here. This woman came up to me at the party. I- I vented to her and she snapped her fingers in front of my face. I think she - no. I know she has something to do with this. She had a badge on her purse for that coffee shop down the street from the studio. We gotta go there and find her. Maybe she knows what is going on.”

“You think some lady from a coffee shop is the reason I have your pussy in my hand? I mean, your hand?” He’s already moved his fingers away, but it seems to frustrate you. “Are you sure we aren’t just tripping? We could be tripping.”

“It’s not drugs. I don’t do drugs.” You confess, having seen the state he gets himself into, you’ve never wanted to take drugs. “Seriously, this woman…it’s the only clue we have so we can get back into our own bodies. You have filming tomorrow and I - I need my body back before you completely molest it.” You huff, unused to your voice - his voice - not being so whiney.

"Like you aren’t thinking about doing the helicopter with my dick." He snorts, looking around the room with a sigh when you don’t answer. "Fine. I'll shower and get dressed. Do you need me to do anything? Any routine? Birth control?"

“I have an IUD but don’t you dare have random sex with my body. I don’t want any STIs. Just pick out some leggings and a t-shirt and wear a bra.” You tell him, “and underwear.” You huff, knowing that Dieter’s body likely needs a shower. “I’ll come pick you up in thirty minutes. I know where the coffee shop is.” You say and hang up, groaning again at the headache. You quickly located the aspirin in his nightstand and down the dusty bottle of water, ignoring the sex toys in the drawer before you shut it. You make his bed and head into the shower, taking a moment to look at his body. He has a birthmark on his chest that you’ve never noticed before. You shower, groaning at the water pressure - so much better than your own - and you search through his clothes for something to wear that isn’t threadbare. Finding some jeans and a t-shirt, you find it weird dressing in his clothes, his cock tucked into his briefs for once - and soon enough, you’re getting in his car to head over to your place.

Dieter showered, taking his time as he washes your body and he decided that he wouldn’t wear the underwear you asked for, it is too uncomfortable. Still, he’s ready to go just like you told him to be, deciding to rummage around in your purse since he is saving going through your phone for later.

You stand in front of your door, having to ring your own doorbell which is weird and you inhale sharply when your body answers the door. It's bizarre seeing yourself, seeing your own figure and you realize you don't see yourself the same in a mirror. "God, this is fucking weird." You gasp, staring at yourself as Dieter looks at his own body.

Dieter frowns. “What are you wearing?” He demands, looking around outside your door to see if anyone is watching. Looking for paps. “That’s too conspicuous! The paps will spot me! You! Whatever!”

You scoff, “it’s jeans and a polo shirt.” You counter and Dieter shakes his head. “No. No. They are gonna see me - you - me and shit. I don’t want fucking pap photos.” He hisses and you roll your eyes, “well too fucking late now.” You huff and cross your arms, “come on. Let’s go.”

Dieter huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, but they are going to speculate who I’m with.” He taunts you, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around you. “So get ready.”

It’s weird to be embraced by yourself as he exits your home. “Don’t forget my - your purse. And to lock the door.” You remind him, knowing he isn’t used to doing that kind of stuff for himself.

“Oh shit, that’s right.” He whirls around and grabs your purse, groaning at the weight. “Why do you have so much shit in here?” He demands, making you huff.

“Because I have to carry your lip balm and your extra sunglasses, your favorite autograph pen. Your sunscreen and hand lotion.” You list off making him wince.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

You walk to his car and he walks to the driver's side with you. “Um…I’m driving.” You tell him.

“It’s my car!” He whines and you shake your head, “technically it’s my car and I know where we are going. You have no clue where a coffee shop is, let alone the coffee shop.” You raise your eyebrows as you open the door to get in.

Dieter huffs and pouts, reluctantly climbing into the passenger side and clicking his seatbelt. “You scratch my car, I’ll fire you.” He threatens, although he would never actually fire you. You’re too valuable.

You roll your eyes as you settle into the driver’s seat. “I’m a better driver than you, Dieter. I’m not the one with a DUI and God knows how many parking tickets.” You snort as you start the car and pull away from your home.

“One, it’s LA - everyone has parking tickets. Two, that DUI was bullshit, I wasn’t high.” Dieter insists, frowning again. “I hadn’t taken anything yet. I swear they had it out for me.”

You scoff, “sure thing.” You reach to turn on the radio, needing a distraction as you drive to the coffee shop. “So fucking weird.” You squint, realizing you can’t see the signs above so you grab his glasses from his console and put them on. “I got your eyes too.” You huff, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel.

“Hey…” He huffs, annoyed that you are calling him out on his eyesight. “At least you get to pee standing up now.” He shoots back before looking out the window. “Where are we going?” He whines. “I don’t like this side of town.”

“Well it’s where your favorite coffee is. You never question it when I put it in a Starbucks cup that I wash out.” You confess, wanting him to know that he’s been swindled by you. You want to support local businesses and that coffee shop is the only one that ever gets your order right.

“What else have you been lying about?” His head snaps towards you, shocked to find that his double shot venti latte over ice with two pumps of sugar free caramel and two pumps of sugar free chocolate with fat free soy milk isn’t from the popular coffee chain.

“I have my secrets.” You smirk, glancing over at him. “You have no clue how your life runs so smoothly. I do everything for you. I even buy your underwear.” You chuckle humorlessly. “You’d crumble doing one day of my job.”

Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes. “Despite what you might think, babe, my life isn’t fucking sunshine and roses.” He promises. “I can’t wait for you to see all the shit I have to put up with. That you don’t see.” He crosses his arms and snorts. “So you buy my underwear and get my coffee? I pay you really fucking good to do it.”

“And call me at three in the morning to get you Taco Bell. I can live your life any day. All you do is recite lines that you memorize. Besides, hopefully we don’t have to do that.” You say, pulling into the parking lot of the coffee shop and you put the car in park. “We’re here.”

Dieter is annoyed that you seem to think that he has it so easy. That anyone could do his job, or put up with the bullshit he does. He jerks the seatbelt off and storms out of the car, eager to get this fixed and get the fuck away from you.

You walk into the coffee shop, forgetting for a moment that you are Dieter Bravo and several sets of eyes fix on you. It’s uncomfortable and you immediately want to hide but you can’t, you need to get this fixed as soon as possible. You walk up to the counter and glance at all the staff. “Hi. Welcome to Roasted.” The woman behind the counter greets you and you offer her a Dieter signature smile, “hi. I’m looking for a girl. She was at a party and she was wearing a witches costume and she had a pendulum around her neck. Oh and a septum piercing. Does she work here?” You ask as Dieter, more polite than he’s ever been and she frowns, “there’s no one here that fits that description.”

Dieter sighs and rolls his eyes, forgetting that he’s in your body. “We might as well order.” He grumbles. “Since we’re here.” You are apparently tilting at windmills or you made the entire story up. He doesn’t know, but he’s bored of this and his anger is starting to get the best of him. Stomach rumbling, he doesn’t know how the fuck you do this, being hungry.

You nod, not feeling hungry despite your head still aching. You order Dieter's usual before ordering your own regular order. "Anything to eat?" You ask him, feeling like eating is the last thing in the world you want to do.

"Fuck yes, I'm starving." He whines, staring at the menu board longingly. "How the fuck do you do this? When was the last time you ate? Five years ago?"

You chuckle, "no. I just don't get off my ass on drugs." You snort and look up at the board, nothing taking your fancy but you order a bagel with cream cheese to try to eat. "What do you want Dee- baby?" You try to correct your mistake, knowing people would find it weird calling your body by his name.

His eyes cut over to you and he decides to have a little fun with you. "Well, I'd rather have you making me scream your name again." He makes your voice sound breathless, like it's remembering the pleasure from before. "Have you for breakfast, but since we'd be arrested...." He gives a giggle and leans in to kiss his own cheek in the body you are now occupying. "I want the French toast bagel sandwich with egg, cheese, sausage and extra bacon." He winks. "You know I need my energy for later when I suck your cock."

Your eyes widen and you nearly choke as the barista stares in shock. “Uh, yeah baby. Fine. You can, uh, do whatever you want later. We can, uh, how much is it?” You ask the barista who stammers out the total and you reach into your pocket for his wallet, pulling his card out to pay.

Dieter smirks proudly and he can't help himself, he reaches down and grabs your/his ass. "Love this ass." He hisses and grins at the barista. "Wouldn't you like to touch it? He's famous, you know."

The barista looks at you - Dieter - and you fluster, “uh, I’m - your food will be ready soon.” She rushes out and you reach behind you to grab your/Dieter’s hand.

“Fucking hell. Stop that. You’re gonna get us in the Enquirer or some shit.”

"You didn't seem to mind making me look crazy." Dieter frowns at you and crosses his arms over his chest and wincing. "Fuck. How do you-?" He pulls them away and tries to reposition them over the breasts he is not used to carrying. "Why does that hurt?"

“Because it’s flesh. Put them under.” You can’t help but reach out to adjust your arms and he sighs, neither of you noticing the way everyone in the cafe is watching until you drop your hands and walk over to the end of the counter to wait for the food and drinks. “Go sit down.” You tell Dieter, knowing he will want to be served.

“Don’t I do everything for you?” He points out childishly, ignoring you and walking over beside you. “You’re the spoiled actor. Go sign autographs.”

“Old habits die hard.” You roll your eyes, “no one wants one. It’s not that bad. Honestly you make it seem like people are dry humping you for a photo.” You snort, “such a drama queen.”

Dieter snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever, ‘Dee’.” He huffs mockingly and opens your bag to search through the cave of wonders to find the pen to slap into your hand.

A young girl, a late teen, comes over and you look at her in surprise. “Hi. Mr. Bravo. Wow, uh, I loved you in Hunger Strike. I’ve watched that movie so many times and I - God, could I get an autograph?” She holds out a notebook and you nod, hoping this body has his signature as muscle memory. You take the notebook and sign, letting the body lead and you sigh softly as you look at his signature. “Can I get a photo?” She asks and you nod so she hands her camera to you/Dieter.

Dieter looks over and smirks, finding it hilarious that you’ve already been accosted when you had quite firmly told him that no one cared. It’s strange to see his body moving, he doesn’t even like watching his own movies so this is doubly unnerving. The order number is called and he turns back towards the counter, immediately huffing because they got his order wrong.

You smile at the girl as she thanks you and you turn to you/Dieter. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“They got my order wrong.” He huffs and you want to roll your eyes at the little stomp of a foot.

“It’s okay.” You say and call over the barista. “Hey sweetie, you got hi- her order wrong. Tell them what’s missing.” You order Dieter, hoping he does it politely.

“There’s no extra bacon.” Dieter grumbles, craving the saltiness. “I asked for sausage and extra bacon.”

“So-sorry. We can change it for you.” The barista says and you look at Dieter, “you could at least say please.” You raise your eyebrows and Dieter huffs, “they should get it right the first time.” It’s your turn to huff and you carry the tray over to an empty table, leaving Dieter to wait for his food.

Dieter huffs, frowning because he’s not used to people not fawning over him and making sure his order is right. “This body sucks.” He mumbles, looking over at where another person approaches you.

You want to roll your eyes but a man approaches you, holding a cell phone. "Hey man. I, uh, really loved you in Fire and Fury: The Destruction. Could, uh, could I get a selfie?" He asks and you want to huff and say no but you don't, nodding and smiling when the guy takes the photo. "Thanks." He says and you nod, watching him walk off before you sit down and wait for Dieter.

When his food finally comes up, Dieter grabs his tray and remembers to thank the girl. Turning and finding you again before walking over. “Enjoying the fans?”

You shrug, "all par for the course. Don't get to be rich and famous without having the cons of the job, right?" You say as you take a sip of your coffee and wrinkle your nose. "Oh God. Don't tell me I have your tastebuds." You moan, wanting to enjoy your pumpkin spiced latte and not his shitty coffee taste.

Dieter picks up his own order and takes a sip, wrinkling his nose. “This is fucking gross, you can’t tell me that we actually drink the coffee from here.”

You switch the cups, “here. I think our taste buds have stayed in the body.” You roll your eyes, “we always have coffee from here. Try this.” You order, pointing at the cup.

He’s suspicious but he takes the cup and sniffs it. “Smells good.” He grumbles and takes a small sip. His eyes widen and he groans appreciatively. “This is soooo good.” He moans, quickly taking another sip. “Yeah, we get our coffee from here from now on.” He tells you like it’s his idea. You roll your eyes, but he ignores you. “So where’s this woman who made us switch bodies? I know you’re gonna get pissy when I want to masturbate.”

Your eyes widen. “Absolutely not. You are not going to do that in my body.” You hiss and he chuckles, “hate to break it to you sweetheart but my body is like clock work. You are gonna be hard a lot and unless you wanna experience sex as a man, you’re gonna need to jerk off.” He says and you wrinkle your nose at the thought of jerking his cock off to masturbate. “Don’t you dare masturbate with my body.” You warn him before you glance around, “this woman had a badge on her bag. It was this place. I’m just grasping at straws.” You shake your head and sigh.

“And how did we end up in each other’s bodies?” He asks, shaking his head in confusion. “I mean, I’ve thought about being inside you, but not like this.” He smirks, knowing that you would hate that comment. You frown and it’s almost disheartening to see the lines on his face. “Fuck, I need to have a chemical peel.” He mutters and looks down at his breakfast sandwich.

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time and look at him, “shut up. You’re handsome and you know it. Meanwhile…God, I could use some time in the gym.” You sigh as you look at yourself while he picks the breakfast sandwich to eat while in your body.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He snorts, taking a huge bit of the breakfast sandwich and chewing hungrily. “You’ve got a killer ass and your tits are naturally perky.” He smirks. “I felt. Yeah your thighs are thick but, let me be honest? Most guys, they don’t give a shit. Thick thighs are fucking nice to be between. It’s like a cushion.”

His words make your stomach twist and you are certain he’s trying to placate you but it’s still nice for Dieter. He dates models and actors so you know he’s seen the best bodies on the planet. “Thanks but, uh, it would be nice to be back in my own body. She’s not here. I don’t know what to do now. We can keep trying to find her. I’m so Damn sure she’s the reason we are in this situation.”

He frowns, unsure of where the fuck you’re supposed to find this person. “Didn’t my party have a damn guest list?” He demands. “What kind of people did you let in?”

“Me? Last time I checked, I’m your assistant, not your fucking security team. Your party planner had the list. She knew exactly who was coming in and out. Shit. She must know her. She knows. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been allowed in. We need to talk to your party planner.” You say, knowing that’s the key.

“You’re the one who has her number.” Dieter reminds you, but you just grin.

“You’re in my body, with my phone.” You remind him, making him look down at the phone on the table with a smirk.

“Yeahhhh, this is my phone.” He cackles, snatching it up and opening it up.

“Oh God.” You moan, hoping that none of your exes text you or he finds something private. “Her name is Kat.” You tell him and he searches for her number before hitting dial. You make him put it on speaker and you wait for her to answer.

“Oh God, what is he complaining about now?” Kat greets you with an exasperated sigh. “We did everything he wanted and more!”

Dieter frowns and shakes his head, hurt that his party planner is making him out like some kind of whiner. “That’s not fair.” He huffs and You elbow him. “Ow, what? Oh, hey Kat, listen I need to know about some woman that came to the party. Some kind of witch?”

“Witch?” She says and you narrow your eyes at her tone. She seems to know something. “Yeah. She works at that coffee shop.” He says as you nod. “Well, she, uh, I know her but why do you want to talk to her?” She asks warily.

“She left something at Dieter’s house.” Dieter lies suddenly. “A badge of some kind. I want to get it back to her.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and he looks over at you for guidance.

You nod, “tell her that you wanted to talk to her after you get to know each other at the party.” You whisper, getting a little urgent for her to give you a fucking answer since you’ve been in Dieter’s body far too long in your opinion.

“I want to talk to her.” Dieter tells her quickly. “I got to talk to her at the party and want to get to know her better.”

“Kat is…she doesn’t like talking to people.” She says hesitantly. “I can give you her number.” She says and you nod, grabbing Dieter’s phone to take down the number.

Dieter huffs at the hesitancy and as soon as he says thanks and you hang up, he looks over at you. “She’s hiding something.” He predicts. “She is hiding something.”

You agree, “let’s call her.” You say, reading off the number that Kat gave you. “Call her. She must know what the fuck is going on.” You say, taking another sip of coffee and you sigh when you realize how badly you need this fixed. The phone rings and rings and you think she isn’t going to answer until she says “hello?”

“Hi, this is, uh, “ Dieter almost says his own name but he quickly uses yours instead, waving off your nod of approval. It’s not like he doesn’t play characters everyday. “We spoke at the Bravo Halloween party last night?”

“Oh hey girl. Or should I say hello, Mr. Bravo?” She says with a smirk in her voice and you narrow your eyes. “So it worked?” She asks, her voice hopeful and almost impressed with herself.

“Yeah. It’s fucking worked.” Dieter growls, “why the hell did you swap our - us over?” He hisses, knowing he can’t say anything in public.

“I wanted to teach you both a lesson. You can’t exist without the other and you need an appreciation of what the other lives like…until you learn to understand the other person, you’ll be stuck.” She says and you grab the phone.

“Please, for the love of God, fix this.” You beg.

She hums. “There is nothing I can do.” She confesses, making Dieter’s eyes widen. “What is done can only be undone by your own choices.” Instead of elaborating on how to make the right choice, she hangs up, leaving you and Dieter to stare at each other in horror.

“What are we going to do? I can’t stay like this!” Dieter cries, motioning to his body and yours. “I have a call time tomorrow!”

“You can’t stay like this? I - I miss my body. I have friends, family. I- oh God. What does she mean ‘right choices’? I don’t - shit. We gotta try and make the right choices.” You ramble like you even know what those choices would be.

“How should I know?” Dieter asks, nearly hysterical. “I didn’t do this! This is your fault!” He points at you accusingly. “You obviously told that witch that I don’t appreciate you, which I do, and now look where we are!”

You gasp, “you - you think you appreciate me? You snap your fingers when you want something. You never ever say please or thank you. How do you think your laundry gets done or your car is filled with gas? Do you think it’s fucking magic? And what do I get in return? You haven’t even given me a raise in five years.” You hiss at him.

“You haven’t asked for one!” He shoots back. “I didn’t know you wanted more money? How could I? All you talk about is wanting to get done with the day and leaving.” He pouts, a little hurt by that fact. “I didn’t know I needed to kiss your ass too!”

You rear back, hurt that he doesn't even see it. "I shouldn't have to ask. You should want to do it. I want to be done with the day because you're such an ungrateful prick. If you had even said thank you once I might've felt different about working hours upon hours with you. I'm not talking about kissing my ass...just to be appreciative."

Dieter frowns and shakes his head, obviously not thinking the same as you do. “I need to be appreciative that you do your job. Okay.” He shakes his head and wonders how you would react to the bullshit he gets to deal with. Constantly being criticized for not getting a scene right if it’s not exactly what’s in the director’s head, but he’s shit at explaining what he wants. “Well, thank you for getting me trapped in your body. Guess I’ll see what your life is like, right?”

You shake your head at him, "yeah. And I get to experience what an easy life you have. Reading some lines and getting everything done for you. Hard Goddamn life." You roll your eyes, unable to help yourself.

Dieter snorts and takes the last bite of his sandwich. “You’ll find out.” He promises. This latest director is an asshole and he’s been sending you off to do shit for him because there have been a lot of screaming fits from him towards the production. He had actually tried to keep you out of the line of fire, but now you can deal with Mark. He finishes his coffee and stands. “Oh look. More adoring fans.” He murmurs before he walks away to throw out his trash, relieved for once that it’s not him being harassed. You haven’t even finished your food.”

You watch him leave and sigh, knowing that arguing won’t fix this but his ego is too much to handle sometimes. “Whatever.” You mutter and look up as a fan comes over. You know Dieter wants you to complain but you won’t. You’ll meet them with a smile and you do just that, taking a photo and signing a napkin before you finish your now cold sandwich. You leave the coffee shop and find Dieter standing by his car, arms crossed. “Are you finished sulking now?”

“Whatever. Take me home.” He grumbles. “It’s supposed to be your day off, remember? Since I give you so few perks? You shouldn’t want to be around me. Go enjoy your lazy life.”

“Fine.” You huff, unlocking the car to get in and start it, eager to drop him off at your house and get back to his to figure out how to fix this. Maybe going to sleep will help. Maybe this has all been a bad dream. You soon pull up outside of your place and he opens the door. “Don’t go snooping.” You warn him, knowing he will want to look around.

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “So you’re privy to my entire life but I can’t know about yours?” He asks as he gets out of the car. “Don’t wreck my car!” He tosses over his shoulder as he marches away from you back to your tiny apartment.

You make your way back to his house, exhausted from the stress of the situation and your body is exhausted for some reason. You decide to take a nap, hoping that when you wake up…this will all be a nightmare.

Dieter sighs when he enters your apartment. It’s small and he flops down on the couch, huffing when the bra he put on you digs into his armpit. “How the fuck does she stand these things?” He grumbles as he leans forward to unhook it. Groaning in relief at the loss of the bra, he wonders how mad you would be if he masturbated.

To say you’re disappointed when you woke up would be an understatement. You are still in Dieter’s body. Even worse…you’re hard. It’s a weird feeling. Unused to this kind of arousal, you try to ignore it but you huff, knowing it won’t go away until you deal with it. Knowing that you can’t do that without permission, you call your cell phone to get hold of Dieter.

Dieter moans softly, his - your - hand is down the pants that he is wearing. His - your - fingers playing with the clit that he is delighted to find is extremely sensitive. Despite your warnings, he was always going to explore. Even though he wants to play with the toys that are in your drawer by the bed, sometimes manual is better.

You huff as the phone rings and he doesn’t answer. “Fucker.” You hiss, knowing that the blood running south won’t go away without help so you give in. Reaching down to unbutton your pants, you reach in and pull the hard cock out. Eyes widening at how fucking thick it is. “Dieter - no wonder.” You mutter, unsure of how to handle this from a first person perspective. You spit into your hand and wrap your fingers around Dieter’s - your - cock and groan at the sensation.

Dieter wonders why you don’t get your clit pierced. It’s so fucking sensitive. He groans again and he hesitates for just a second before he slides his fingers down and pushes two inside your - his - cunt. “Oh fuck, that’s- that’s better than rubbing a clit.” He groans, closing his eyes as he starts to pump his fingers.

You moan as you start to move your hand, twisting it slightly and you swipe your thumb over the head to gather the drop of pre-cum, bringing your hand back down with a gentle whimper. God, this feels good. Less work than masturbating your own body. You groan as you work your hand a little faster, enjoying how this feels.

He groans when the angle doesn’t quite work right. It’s harder to find that spot when he’s having to contort his wrist. Used to just fingering from a different angle. “Fuck.” He whimpers, sliding one hand up to squeeze his new tits again. Maybe he’ll get you a gift certificate at a piercing shop to show how much he appreciates you.

“Shit.” You hiss, finding the right grip and speed, loving how good this feels. You moan, loud as you work yourself up. “Oh shit.” You hiss again, loving how good this feels.

"Oh fuck." Dieter's eyes roll back when he finds that spot. "There it is, goddamn." He huffs, pumping his fingers inside his cunt.

You pant as you pump a little faster, spitting into your palm again and groaning as you squeeze the head every other thrust. “Shit. Gonna - gonna - oh fuck.” You groan, choking as you cum, spurting onto the shirt you’re wearing and you pump yourself through it.

Dieter is soooo fucking close. His thighs start to shake as he gasps. Surprised by the feeling of a female orgasm and how it is so different from his previous ones. Finally falling over the edge and crying out when his walls lock down around his fingers.

You pant as you slump against the bed, letting go of your cock before you sigh, realizing you need to clean up and get something to eat. Dieter - you - has an early call time tomorrow and you want to make sure you’re there early to figure out how the fuck you’re gonna bluff knowing your lines.

When Dieter comes down from the high that is natural from cumming, he checks the phone that had been buzzing. It's strange to see a different background but the facial recognition opens it and he sees he missed a call from himself, or you, in his body. He sighs and calls you back, not really wanting to talk but it might be important.

You huff when Dieter phones you back and you sigh, wondering what took him so long. You’ve cleaned yourself up, grimacing at the mess that is the male orgasm, and you have changed into sweatpants. “Hey.” You answer, “what took you so long to call back?”

"Busy washing your hair." Dieter teases as he looks down at your fingernails. You are due for a manicure, you need one. Maybe he could hook you up with his nail artist who does his before press events? "Something wrong?"

You narrow your eyes in suspicion at his innocent tone. “No. I just wanted to check in on you. It’s an early call time tomorrow and I need your script. Couldn’t find it. Where is it?” You ask, still curious as to what took him so long.

He chuckles quietly. "It's on the back of the toilet. I read it while I'm in there." He admits with zero shame.

You wrinkle your nose at that but make your way into the bathroom to find his script. “God. I didn’t know that’s how you learned your lines.” You tell him, unable to believe there’s much you don’t know about him at this point. “Anyway. I’m gonna try and memorize the scene you’re doing tomorrow so I don’t make you look like an idiot.” You say, knowing you’re responsible for his job. “I want a bagel from that place opposite the studio and a black coffee.” You give him your order, smirking slightly at the idea of him getting you breakfast.

"Yes sir." he hums into the phone mockingly. "By the way? Your pussy is really tight, I like it." He tells you right before he ends the call. It will drive you insane that you don't know what he's done and he won't tell you. Setting the alarm for the appropriate time and turning on DO NOT DISTURB so you can't call back again.

You stare at the phone in shock before you growl out “fucking Bravo.” You know he’s touched your body and you are pissed, even though you touched his. God, this is so complicated. Tomorrow, you’ll get through the day and figure out how to fix this.

****

“No. No. No.” The director shakes his head as you try to film the scene. You memorized the lines but you’re not an actor and apparently muscle memory doesn’t apply when you have the wrong memory in your body. The director points out the spot you’re supposed to stand on and you nod, knowing you’ll have to try again. This is torture, trying to remember the lines, act them out, and remember where you’re supposed to stand.

Dieter stands with his coffee, smirking slightly as you blow out a sigh. Maybe it’s petty, but it’s slightly validating that you are having such a hard time getting your blocking right. You had continued to insist that acting was just so easy. He takes another sip and the phone in his pocket dings, making him look away from where you are floundering, to glance at the change his manager is making to ‘your’ schedule.

You stutter as you try to remember your line, getting flustered until the director calls for a break. He comes over to you, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you today, Bravo, but whatever drugs or pussy has you flustered, you need to forget it and get your head in the game.” He growls, wanting perfection and you nod, “yes sir.” You feel humiliated as you make your way back to your/Dieter’s trailer.

Dieter follows behind you, recognizing the slump of his body’s shoulders. He waits until the two of you are alone in the trailer to speak since no one else knows that you’ve swapped bodies. They just think that he’s having a bad day acting. “Listen.” He sets the bag down and blows out a breath. “It helps if you count in your head. Let’s you keep track of where you are in your movements.”

You slump down on the sofa, “I just - I didn’t think it would be this hard. I- shit. The stress of this. The reminded cost of filming from the producers and the director wanting perfection. I don’t know how the fuck you do this.” You confess, realizing you were wrong.

“It’s an art, a craft.” He tells you. “It’s not just memorizing some lines and looking pretty. It takes a lot of dedication and practice. Even then, years later, an Oscar later, I’m still working on my craft.” He admits. “I spend hours in my room, alone, practicing voices, accents, and my body movements.”

You bite your lip, crossing your arms as you realize how difficult his job can be. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know. I never knew it was so hard. I thought it was just reading some lines and - shit. I really don’t want to go back out there.” You confess, rubbing your cheek that is a little rough from not shaving.

“You can do it.” Dieter encourages. “Stand up and I’ll work with you.” He tilts his head. “Or I can go tell him you’ve got the shits. That’ll work. He’s a germaphobe.”

You shake your head, "no. No. I - I can do this." You stand up and wipe your sweaty palms on your pants. "Teach me." You plead, not wanting to embarrass Dieter like this in front of the director.

He’s surprised that you are swallowing your pride. His - your - brows raise and he nods. “Okay. Stand right here.” He points to an air vent. “This is your mark. Say your first line and then move two steps to the right at full tempo.”

You follow his direction, finding it much nicer than the asshole director, and you count in your head after you say your first line. "Oh God. I'm hopeless at this." You groan, shaking your head as you mess up.

“No, don’t think like that.” He frowns slightly. “The more nervous you are, the more you will mess up. Think about something naughty.” He suggests, shrugging when you look at him like he has seven heads. “Seriously. I’m thinking about that and not worried about the possibility of messing up.”

Your eyes widen, "what do you think about?" You ask, wanting an example from him. You try to think about your ex but that makes you wrinkle your nose as you walk back to your makeshift mark.

“Normally I think about doing the scene naked with a hard on.” He admits with a snort. “Then I’m not going to pop a boner and I can think about that.”

You snort, "oh God. I- now that's all I'm gonna think about...you with a hard on." You chuckle, "well, this body." You gesture to yourself.

He smirks and winks at you. “How many times did you end up jerking off last night?” He asks. “Know it had to be at least once, because you got some sleep.”

You fluster, biting your lip, "I, uh, once. It was different. Easier than I thought it would be. Men have it easier to get off." You confess, "you...you did, didn't you?" You ask, eyes narrowed at him.

He laughs, finding it much easier to do than chuckling. “You mean did I find that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your pussy soak the mattress? Of course I did.” He hums. “Harder to find when you’re doing it yourself. I have to admit that. But your fingers were the only thing I put inside that tight little pussy. Didn’t even do it in front of a mirror, although now that I think about it, I should have.”

You sigh, “of course. God, why did I think you wouldn’t masturbate?” You huff and cross your arms, looking down at how broad they are. You never really noticed that before. “Can we concentrate on the acting? Your career?”

“So wait a minute…” Dieter holds up your now manicured hands. “So it’s okay that you jerk my cock, but you’re mad that I did the same thing?”

“I- I- I don’t know what to say.” You confess, “I just - you use your body all the time. With everyone. Anyone. I don’t…I don’t do that. It’s weird that you fingered what I would consider my vagina.”

He frowns, dropping your hands and looking down at them. "I used your fingers too." He offers, unsure of what to really say. "I won't do it anymore."

You nod, “okay. I, uh, I need something. I don’t know what it is but I feel itchy and my palms are sweaty. I’m sweating.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead. “Why - I need water or something.”

He frowns and realizes that his body is going through some kind of withdrawal. “Here.” He moves over to a cabinet and pulls out an aspirin bottle. Shaking out a tiny yellow pill and holding it out to you. “Take this.” He orders, dropping it into your palm before he moves to get you a bottle of water.

You frown, “what is it?” You ask and he stares at you, “just take it.” You huff, knowing it’s some drug he probably takes a lot during the day so you take a gulp of the water and swallow the pill down. “God, do you feel like that a lot?”

“Stress, anxiety, feeling like you’re about to pass out?” He snorts and nods. “Nearly everyday. The xannie will help you calm down.”

You frown, aware that he had been taking drugs but you didn’t know that he suffered as bad as that. The anxiety was almost overwhelming. “I didn’t know you felt like that. I- I’m sorry.” You murmur, downing the rest of the water bottle.

He shrugs one shoulder, not looking at you. "Don't worry about it." He mutters. "Let's get you ready to film that scene."

You shake your head, “I’m sorry you feel like this.” You say, reaching out to squeeze his/your hand. “Let’s nail this scene.” You tell him, “then I think I’ll want lunch. You love that taco place a few blocks away. Think you can get me some tacos from there?”

He frowns, not really sure what the name of the place is or where it's at, but he nods. "Sure." He agrees, knowing that you have all his favorite places saved into your phone.

You head back out to the set, swallowing harshly as your stomach churns with nerves but you feel better after popping a pill. “You ready to go?” The director asks and you nod, “yes.” You bite your lip as everything is reset and you take your mark, inhaling sharply as you begin to act out the lines and remember the blocking.

Dieter watches you critically, wanting to make sure you don't falter again. Mouthing the lines that he had memorized along with you and he's proud that you only miss half a beat once. Hoping that it's enough to satisfy the mercurial director.

You complete the scene, jumping when the director yells cut and you wait for him to tell you that was shit but he didn’t. You sigh in relief when he says “good job, Bravo. Let’s cut for lunch.” He yells out and you exhale shakily under your breath.

Dieter smirks and moves towards his body to take his arm just like you would. "Okay, let's get you back to your trailer and I'll go get those tacos you want." He tells you, knowing from the look on his face that the pill has taken effect and you will be relaxed and hungry now.

You nod, letting him guide you to his trailer and you slump down on the sofa, the pill taking full effect and you moan at the thought of tacos. “Are you still here?” You ask Dieter, knowing that he won’t take kindly to your tone but you’re suddenly starving and tired.

He huffs and rolls his eyes like you would when he would say the exact same thing to you, but he knows that his body is ready for food. "Fine, I'll be back. Get some rest."

You hum, closing your eyes as you allow the pill to relax you enough to have a quick nap before Dieter returns with the food. Little do you know that Dieter is struggling to find the taco place you love.

“Where the fuck is it????” He hisses in frustration. It’s been impossible to find this fucking taco place and he looks down at his phone again and back at the street. “Fuck, fuck, where are you?”

You blink as you wake up, the su n shining into the trailer and you wonder how long you’ve been asleep. Surely Dieter would be back by now. You grab his phone, calling your number and waiting for him to answer. “Hello?” He answers and he sounds flustered.

“Everything okay?”

“I can’t find this fucking taco place!” He huffs into the phone, feeling anxious and confused because he knows it’s close. “I’ve called them six times and they aren’t answering”

You sigh, “it’s hidden in the plaza. You gotta go down the breezeway and it’s on the first level.” You explain, “are you parked near the coffee shop?” You ask and he nods. “Then it’s the next building.”

“Really? Fuck.” He sighs, “thank you, I’ve been tearing your pretty hair out.” He admits before he repeats back your food order. “I’ll be back to set as quick as I can.”

“Oh can you get some coffee on the way back from the place next door? I want a black coffee.” You say, annoyed that you still have Dieter’s taste buds.

He chuckles, aware that you are annoyed but he agrees. “One black coffee coming up.” He promises before rushing down the breezeway to get the tacos.

You wait for Dieter to return, grabbing your script to try the next scene since you’re alone. You say the lines and walk the blocking, counting in your head. You try over and over, working on the inflections in Dieter’s voice.

Finally after waiting for way too long for tacos, Dieter is back in the car and heading towards the set. Knowing that he is running behind and you will have to be back out there soon. He wants you to be able to rest and hopefully he can go over the lines with you again. It's amazing how much time it takes to get everything done and he has to admit you're right, traffic is way too busy to expect things right away.

You look up when Dieter arrives back with your food. You’re starving and the pill effect is waning. God, his resistance to drugs is ridiculous. You groan when he sets the food down, “you took forever.” You whine slightly, grabbing the box to open it with a moan.

He rolls his eyes and sets the black coffee down. “Yeah. I know. Fucking restaurant was hidden, how was I supposed to know that?” He grumbles, not even hungry himself, just needing the coffee he had gotten for himself.

You dig into the food, groaning and licking your fingers as you savor the food. “I’ve been practicing while you’ve been gone for the next scene.” You reveal, “can’t have you looking bad again. I don’t wanna ruin your career.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dieter snorts. “They will just think I’m high.” He admits, knowing you are fully aware of his reputation. “Oh shit!” His eyes widen, and he motions towards your/his phone. “You need to text Monique and tell her not to come over tonight.” He urges. “Do it now.”

Your eyes widen, “what?” You ask with a mouth full of taco and he grabs his phone, holding it up to your face to unlock it so he can type away. “Who’s Monique?” You question, knowing you’ve never heard of her.

Dieter feels his cheeks heat up. Biting his lip and looking away for a moment. “She’s my….” He mumbles the last word too low for you to hear.

“She’s what?” You demand, making him huff.

“She’s my dominatrix!” He nearly shouts.

Your eyes widen, “she - you have a - oh my God.” You nearly choke on the taco, in shock at his confession and you grab your water to swallow down the bite. “Why do you have one of those?” You ask, patting your chest.

Now he understands the term ‘want to shrivel up and die’. “Everyone want to fuck an actor. But I want- I need - to just let go, you know? To just let someone else be in control. To - to order me around. I actually like giving pleasure.”

Your eyes widen, “oh wow. I, uh, wow. I didn’t know…I mean, I guess I get it. Wanting to be out of control and have someone make all the decisions. It sounds quite nice actually.” You confess, knowing your own life is hectic. “I, uh, I think I owe you an apology. I didn’t realize how hard acting actually is.” You confess, setting your water down.

He nearly sags in relief that you don’t judge him. He had taken great pains to keep that a secret from everyone, even you. “Your job is a lot harder too.” He admits quietly. “I’m sorry, I owe you a lot of kudos and thanks for keeping my life sane.”

You nod, reaching out to take your/his hand. “I think both of us didn’t know what the other’s job involved. I have a new appreciation of your work…of you.” You admit, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry I was a bitch before.”

“I was an asshole.” Dieter can admit that, he often is. “We’ll get through this.” He promises, even though he doesn’t have a clue how.

You sigh, looking down at your food. "I hope so." You murmur, knowing that neither of you can fix this. The witch hasn't informed you on how to fix it so at this point, it looks like you're stuck in his body. "Anyway. Let's finish eating and then I want to go over the lines. Can't have Dieter Bravo looking like he doesn't know what he's doing." You chuckle softly.

He laughs and nods. “Of course, can’t have it looking like I’m not a professional.” He scoffs. “I’ll help you get through the day’s shoot.”

****

It’s been a week since you’ve been in Dieter’s body and it’s hard to admit it but it’s hard work being a movie star. When he’s finished shooting for the week, he’s going to press events or you have to go to a restaurant for PR with some model. It was difficult to get out of sex but you managed it with the eager model who didn’t have a lot of brain cells. It’s exhausting and your new body has been going through withdrawals so you take the drugs and enjoy the peace and quiet when you finally get some time to relax.

Dieter is exhausted, never complaining though, but it seems like you never sleep. On top of all the shit he asks you to do, his manager and his agent all send you shit to make sure he does. It seems like the phone never stops buzzing. He opens the door to his house and sighs, missing his comfort zone despite your place being comfortable. “Fuck, I’m back!” He calls out. “I got dinner and vodka!”

“Thank fuck!” You moan, shifting off of the bed to find him with the food. “I’m starving. God, today was a long day. That damn model…I had to go have coffee with her and she has literally one brain cell. I tried to talk to her about the movie industry and she couldn’t grasp it.” You roll your eyes as you walk into the kitchen.

Dieter snorts and sets down the food when he gets into the room. “She’s been told all her life that she didn’t need to be smart, because she was pretty.” He reminds you. “Doesn’t matter that beauty fades, huh?”

You chuckle, “isn’t that the truth. Good thing you’ve aged well.” You tell him, reaching up to touch your/his face. “Look just like you did when you filmed Hunger Strike…apart from the new tattoos.” You say and gesture to your arm.

“Rebellion.” Dieter smirks at the tattoos that he’s seen on his body more since he’s not been in it. “They wanted me to quote ‘be a blank canvas’, so I got dark, bold tattoos.”

You chuckle, “sounds like you. Always rebellious. It’s weird…being in your body and looking at mine. Makes you focus on all the imperfections.” You frown, opening the box with your food in it.

“What perfections are you talking about?” He huffs. “I’ve seen your body in the mirror a shit ton the last week and I have to say, this body is fucking sexy.”

Your eyes widen in surprise more at his compliment and you bite your/his lip. “I mean…I try to look good. It’s hard to work out or keep healthy when I’m running around after you.” You confess.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I’ll- when we get back to our own bodies, I’ll make sure you get more time to yourself.” He promises. “Away from me.”

You nod, reaching for his/your hand, “it’s okay. I think we have both learned a lot about each other this past week.” You murmur, looking into your own eyes but somehow, you can see his personality shining through. Your annoyance towards your boss shifted somehow and you don’t know when it did but you feel softer towards him, you understand him more.

“We have.” Dieter agrees, looking down at your joined hands and feels his heart start to pound. Those thoughts he’s had during this time once again sounding in his mind. “I think- you’re amazing.”

“You do?” You ask, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“Yeah. I realize how much you do for me and…and how I didn’t pay attention to how amazing you are.” He confesses and you swallow harshly, “I didn’t know how hard your life is. I thought it was just easy. Reading lines. I didn’t - I didn’t know how incredibly talented you are and how kind you can be.”

Dieter shrugs slightly, embarrassed. Since things have progressed longer than a day, you’ve had several people contact you/him asking for money or favors. He understands it can be a lot. “Is it weird that I want to kiss you?” He asks instead.

You bite your lip, “kinda? I mean…we would be kissing ourselves essentially but yeah…I wanna kiss you too.” You confess, looking down at your hands. He’s gotten manicures since he’s been in your body and you have to admit that it looks good.

“We should do it.” He tells you, watching his own body move closer to him. “I want- fuck, it’s been so hard not to touch your body, baby.” He confesses breathlessly. “But I’ve - I haven’t masturbated since you got so upset at me.”

You bite your lip, knowing this is fucked up on so many levels. “I want to - God, this is so weird but I really want to fuck you….me?” You add with a chuckle, deep and chesty. “You want to go to the sofa?” You suggest, jerking your chin over to it.

Dieter smirks and nods eagerly. “You have no idea how badly I want to see what sex is like as a woman.” He confesses. “You have to thank me, the thought of being a real slut was nearly overwhelming but I haven’t touched a soul.” He holds up three fingers in a scout’s honor.

You chuckle, "it's gonna be a weird experience but I want to see what it's like." You confess, "I know what my body likes so...it should be fun. Might as well experience something while we are in this crazy situation." You shrug, reaching for his hand again to guide him over to the sofa. You sit down and he wastes no time straddling you. "This is so freaky." You chuckle, looking up at your face and you reach up to cup his cheek, bringing his face to yours to press your lips to his.

Dieter hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your neck and immediately sliding your body’s tongue into his mouth. It will be freaky but like you said, it should be fun. He definitely wants to show you what getting a blow job is like. “It’s like watching ourselves in a mirror.”

You hum as your tongues tangle together and your hands find your/his ass. Squeezing it and you can appreciate your own form in this moment and you love the way Dieter moans into your mouth. Your cock is starting to harden - something you’ve become accustomed to with Dieter’s sex drive - and you moan when Dieter grinds down onto you.

Getting wet is a sensation that Dieter loves and hates. He hates that it ruins the panties he’s wearing - he’s actually had to start wearing underwear in your body - and he loves it because it’s so discreet. No one could tell that he’s horny and he’s often wondered when you get wet around him. “I want to suck your cock.” Dieter groans, pulling back and flashing you a grin. “Like you said, I know what my body likes.”

You groan, cock twitching and you kiss along his neck, breathing in the perfume your mom bought you for Christmas that you love and you moan, fingers digging into his flesh even more. “God, I am so fucking horny allll the time.” You take on the whine in his voice and he giggles, turning to kiss your ear.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” He asks playfully. “Now you know why I’m always begging people to have sex with me. It’s- less, when I had Monique.” He confesses, “but I have a high sex drive.”

You nod, understanding him now more than ever before. “Maybe I can try Monique…see if I like it.” You tease, “or if I ever get my body back…I can try acting like Monique.” You tease and reach for the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head and groaning at the sight of his tits in his bra. “Fuck. Never knew my boobs could look so good.” You confess and shift your hands up to squeeze them.

“They do look good, don’t they?” Dieter smirks as he looks down at them proudly. “I think I will miss these most when I go back to my own body.” He frowns slightly, aware that you would never let him touch them again after you switch back.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to say that he's being hopeful. You could be stuck like this forever. You sigh and reach behind him to undo his bra, cock hardening beneath him as you expose more flesh and after you toss the bra aside, you surge forward to take a nipple into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” In his own body, Dieter loves having his nipples played with, but like this it’s even better. He groans and grinds down on your hard cock. A cock he does know better than anything else, so he slides his hands into your sweats, amused that you had started wearing his ‘trashy’ clothes.

You moan against his flesh as he squeezes your cock, making you groan when he uses just the right amount of pressure. You know exactly how to work the body of the other person, your mouth sucking on your nipple before biting down, and his hand squeezing his cock perfectly. It’s weird and wild but it feels so good.

Dieter is in love with this. He knows it’s his cock, he feels it respond to his touch just like it does when he was masturbating, but he can’t feel it. You are driving his other senses crazy and he gasps when you bite down on his nipple. “So good baby.” He whines prettily.

You moan, hands sliding down to squeeze his ass, his hand working your cock and you want to feel move. “Take your pants off.” You rasp against his chest, “wanna - wanna feel all of you.” You tell him and when he shuffles off, you pull your shirt over your head and shove your sweatpants down, kicking them off.

“Fuck.” Dieter pants slightly, looking at his own body through fresh eyes. “I want- let me-“ he doesn’t even articulate what he wants, he just finishes stripping and drops to his knees. Leaning forward to quickly take your cock into his mouth.

“Oh my God!” You cry out, your hand grabbing the back of his head and you can’t believe how good it feels. “Shit. No - no wonder guys want this all the time.” You moan, cock twitching in his mouth as he takes it deeper.

Dieter hums, letting it vibrate around your shaft and swallows. Enjoying the moans and sounds he is pulling from you even though it’s his voice. It’s not like he’s never done this before, but there’s something wicked about doing it to his own body. Something that makes him want to blow your mind.

You pant, chest heaving at the sensations. Something you’ve never experienced before and you nearly lift your hips from the sofa, chasing his mouth. “Oh fuck, baby.” You moan, head tilted back as your eyes flutter closed.

He holds one hip, the other hand wrapped around your cock and he wishes he had a free hand. It would be between his thighs rubbing that sensitive clit. Groaning as he takes you to the back of his throat and then pushing past your gag reflex.

“Ho-holy shit. Oh my - fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You cry out as he swallows around you and you groan, reaching down to tap his head. “Baby. Dee. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You pant out, cock twitching in his mouth.

“You don’t want to cum?” He asks when he pulls off your cock with a pop. “If you- uh, go down on me, you’ll be ready to go again in like twenty minutes.”

You shake your head, “I don’t - do you want me to - in your mouth?” You ask, struggling to maintain control as he continues pumping your cock in his hand.

“Gonna swallow you down.” Dieter promises, wondering if you would swallow in the same situation. He’s never going to find out in his body, but he will have this memory. “Cum for me, baby.” He begs before he takes you back into his mouth and sucks eagerly.

You pant, eyes squeezed shut as you can’t hold off any longer. It takes moments before you’re cumming down his throat, cock throbbing and the sensations make your nails dig into your palms as you ride the intense orgasm.

Dieter moans, trying to swallow as much as he can but it’s too much too fast. The taste of his cum so much richer on your body’s tongue and he gulps you down greedily.

Your hips rock up to chase his mouth but he pulls back, cum dripping down his chin, and you whimper when he takes you deep again to clean you off. "Fuck. Oh shit." You exhale shakily, eyes closed as you slump against the sofa.

Dieter’s clit is throbbing, needing attention as he wipes his chin clean with his fingers and shoves it in his mouth. Wanting every drop he can have. “Now you know why I love a good blow job, how was it?”

“So good.” You murmur and notice the hungry look in his eyes. “Bed. Wanna - wanna eat you out on a bed.” You tell him, shifting to stand up from the sofa and you kick your sweats off and pull the ratty t-shirt over your head to expose your body. “Come on baby. Bedroom. Now.”

Dieter follows you, feeling excited. Wanting to know what this feels like. Experiencing something he never thought he would ever have. The house even feels different walking through it with you and he palms his tits as he follows along behind you.

When you’re in his room, you turn to grab him, lifting him onto the bed with a hunger that surprises you. You grab his thighs, spreading them apart and you groan at the sight of his pussy. Glistening with arousal. “What turned you on so much baby?” You coo, kissing along his thigh.

“Fuck-“ Dieter whines, feeling like you are teasing him. “Sucking your cock. It was so-so sexy watching you cum.” He whispers when your breath washes over his hot cunt. “Touch me baby.”

“It’s so weird. Pleasuring your own body but fuck, I kinda like it. I know exactly what I like.” You say before you lean in, sliding your tongue through his folds, groaning at the tangy taste of your arousal. You’ve tasted yourself before but never like this. “Fuck. I like this.” You admit and flick your tongue over his clit.

Dieter cries out your name, surprised by how good it feels. “Oh fuck. More.” He begs, sliding a hand down to tangle his fingers into your hair. “This is so fucking good. I can’t believe you don’t have someone just between your thighs all the time.”

You chuckle into his wet flesh, “trust me, baby. I would if I could, but I haven’t found someone to volunteer to do that just yet. Most men don’t even like doing this. They see it as a chore.” You reveal and lean forward to suck his clit into your mouth, moaning to let the vibrations go through his body.

“I love eating pussy.” Dieter groans, rocking his hips up. “Especially when they are on my face and sucking my cock at the same time. Everyone- oh fuck, everyone enjoys themselves.”

Your spent cock twitches at that thought as you lap at his clit and slide your tongue lower to push it into his cunt. Your fingers dig into his thighs, pushing them back so you can push your tongue even deeper.

“Oh fuck baby, eat my pussy.” Dieter moans, trying to rock his hips down so he can push your tongue deeper. Desperate to cum from the sensations, his fingers pinch his nipples and he moans prettily as you play your own body perfectly.

You moan into his flesh, loving how tangy the taste is as you flick your tongue over his clit and suck it into your mouth. Your fingers slide down until you are pushing two into his pussy and curling them while eyes focus on your own face but you see Dieter in your eyes.

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” He cries as the knot in his stomach twists tight and breaks. Heat and pleasure rushing through his core and making him shake apart under your tongue. Flooding your mouth with his cum like he had never experienced before.

You groan, loving the way he shakes beneath your tongue and you lap up every drop. Your fingers work him through it until you pull them free, cock hard and aching as you grind into the mattress. “Wanna fuck you. I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You tell him, wanting him to know your health, “want me to wear a condom?”

Dieter moans, loving the thought of feeling all of you - him. It’s all mixed together in his mind at this point. “I- I’m clean too.” He pants out, thinking about his own body. “Haven’t slept with anyone but Monique since then and she-“ he shakes his head. “I want to feel you. Please, I want to feel you cum inside me.”

You nod, shifting to kneel between his thighs, reaching down to wrap your fingers around your cock, pumping it and groaning as you look down at what was formerly your body. “Shit. My tits are perky.” You murmur, realizing that he’s right as you shuffle closer to rub his clit with the head of your cock.

“Aren’t they?” He huffs proudly, pushing them up in his hands and moaning when he squeezes them. “Fucking love them. And my dick is big.”

You nod, looking down at the cock in your hand, “it is. Gonna - gonna feel so good.” You promise as you slowly start to push into him, groaning at the heat and wetness. “Fuck me. It’s so tight.” You groan, shifting closer to push deeper inside.

“Oh fuck.” Dieter’s mouth drops open and his eyes roll back as you push inside him. It’s so fucking different than anything else, but it’s amazing. The cock stretched him out and he clenches down around you playfully.

Your jaw drops, “Shit. No wonder some guys can’t hold off. This feels so good.” You moan, inhaling deeply to try to control yourself from cumming too soon. “Does it feel good?” You ask, wondering what his thoughts are about this.

“Fuck yesssssss.” He moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you and dragging his nails down your back. “Want more. Fuck me.”

You nod, "yes baby. Shit. Yes baby." You murmur, leaning down to kiss along his neck as you start to move. Your pace is awkward, unsteady as you try to adjust to something you've never done before.

He can feel how unsteady your thrusts are and he starts to roll his hips with you. His legs around the back of your thighs, pressing against your ass as he encourages you. Moaning your name when you push deep and kisses your clean shaven jaw. You had started shaving his face since being in his body, especially since the director liked the idea of Dieter with a clean cut look.

“Oh shit baby. Feel - feel so good. So fucking wet. God, didn’t know it could be this wet.” You confess as you push deeper and start to find a rhythm. “You need - tell me what you need.” You plead, wanting to make sure this is good for him before you cum too soon.

“Put- fuck, put my legs up on your shoulders.” Dieter pants out breathlessly. Knowing that the angle will feel amazing. “I’ll- I’ll rub my clit.”

You nod, shifting to grab his ankles, lifting them onto your shoulders, and you moan at the way he clenches around you. “Shit. That's - oh God. Rub your clit, baby. Rub it. Need you to cum.” You beg, getting closer as you rut into him.

Dieter does as you order, groaning your name when the angle strikes against something perfect inside him. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He whines, rubbing the little bundle of nerves frantically and wishing that he could articulate how good this feels. “Make me cum, baby. Wanna soak you.”

You grunt, rocking into him again and again, keeping the same angle, and you groan when he clamps down on you. The gush of wetness makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as the sensation makes your cock twitch deep inside of him. “Fuckkkkk. I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, rocking frantically into him until you freeze, stiffening as your cock twitches and you paint his walls with your hot seed.

Dieter moans again, breathless at the sensation and he rocks his hips down, wanting more. It’s incredible and he swears that if he has to stay like this, it wouldn’t be so bad as long as you both just stay in bed. “Fuck baby, so good, feels so good.”

You nod, speechless in your agreement, and you lean in to press your lips to his. God, it’s so good. Feeling like this. Makes being stuck in this body tolerable. “Fuck. I think I love you, Dee.” You murmur, knowing that this time spent in the other’s body has made you realize how it is and you admit that you’ve been harsh in your criticism of him. You understand him now.

“I know I love you.” He sighs softly, aware that he’s been falling for you this entire time. Living in your body and understanding you better than he ever could have before. Even experiencing your period had been something that made him admire you. Even when he was curled on his side sobbing with a heat pad on his stomach.

You lean in to nudge your nose against his, knowing that even if you’re stuck in his body, you understand him better than anyone else. You love him. Even with all his flaws, he’s an incredible man. Talented beyond anything you realized and you love him for all of it. “Whatever happens, we have each other.” You murmur, kissing him softly.

His legs fall down into the crook of your arms as you hover over him, enjoying the closeness. “We have each other.” He mumbles against your lips. He’s not sure what’s going to happen but it will be okay if you are with him.

You hum, groaning as you let his legs back down to the mattress and slowly pull out of him. You moan at the sight of your cum pooling at his folds. “Shit. No wonder guys like watching that.” You murmur, “I feel possessive as fuck.” You chuckle and shuffle off of the bed to get a wet rag to clean him up.

“You should be.” He calls out after you. “It’s your body.” He feels boneless after you fucked him and he wonders how it’s so different from when he’s the one working the cock. “Besides, my body, your body, you get to touch it anytime you want.”

You come back over to clean him up and grin, “and you get to touch me…your body whenever you want.” You promise and you hand him your shirt to put on once he’s cleaned up. “Want a snack?” You offer and he shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I’m tired. You wore me out. Nap time.” He declares and you nod, “nap sounds good.” You grab some boxers and shift to pull the covers back from the bed. Once you’re both under it, you pull him back into your chest, snuggling into him.

“Think you’re becoming a better Dieter than I am.” He pouts slightly, but too sleepily to really protest as he snuggles against you. “Night baby.”

You chuckle, “night baby.” You breathe him in and fall asleep curled around him, the exhaustion seeping into your bones.

****

The light shines through the curtains, having forgotten to put down Dieter’s blackout blinds, and you wince as you wake up. It’s early morning. You and Dieter slept through the night and you feel him curled around you. Unsure of when you switched positions, you reach down to remove his arm from your waist and you gasp when you see the tattoos and rings that aren’t on the body you’re in. “Oh my God.” You gasp out, your hand shifting to your chest and you choke when you come into contact with your breast. “Oh my God.” You say a little louder and you shift to sit up, looking down at Dieter. “Dieter. Wake up. Wake up!” You shout, shaking his shoulder.

“What? What is it?” His eyes peel open and he blinks several times, feeling the grittiness of the contacts. Frowning slightly as he sits up. He doesn’t wear contacts. “What happened?”

“We switched back!” You announce, shifting to straddle him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “We are back in our own bodies.” You tell him, loving how sleepy he still looks.

“We are?” His eyes widen and he looks down, seeing tits on you instead of him. “Oh fuck! We’re back in our own bodies!” He yelps, completely confused on what is different now. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy.” He intones seriously.

You fluster, your fingers caressing his neck down to his chest. “So are you and I - I know you now. I know you and I love you. I got the calls from your parents. The calls from your manager and your agent and your friends. I understand you and the way you are and I love you.” You declare softly, meeting his dark gaze. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re incredibly sexy.” You smirk, playfully pinching his nipple.

He shudders out a breathy whine and bites his lip. “I know you do so much for me. You make my life so much easier and I want to show you how much I appreciate it.” His cock, already hard, twitches under the sheet pooled at his waist. “Can I make you cum this time? Me in my body and you in yours? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You nod, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “Yes. I want you to fuck me, Dee. In our own bodies. Wanna experience you.” You murmur before you brush your lips against his. He doesn’t waste time deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head and you whimper into the kiss, grinding down onto him.

It’s almost disorienting to be back in his body but it’s comforting at the same time. Dieter twists and pushes you down onto the bed before he pulls away from the kiss. “So that means I get to show you my pussy eating skills.” He teases with a grin before ducking his head and wrapping his lips around your nipple.

You moan and sink your fingers into his hair. “You better make me cum, I made you cum last night.”

He chuckles against your skin, wanting to make sure you know that he had been paying attention when you had been touching your body. “I will.”

You sigh, loving how he kisses down your stomach as he settles between your thighs, just like you did last night in his body. “God, Dee.” You whimper when he kisses along your thigh, “I need you.” You whine softly when he continues teasing you, your pussy wet for him already.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He murmurs as he kisses your thigh and then up your mound. “Just want to get a good look at this pretty pussy. So hard to see it with a mirror.”

You gasp when he pushes your thighs further apart and the cool air hits your overheated flesh. Wetness makes the cool air practically caress your skin. “Shit.” You whimper, shifting to look at his face as he gets his first good look at your pussy.

Dieter is in awe, his fingers sliding up and down the edge of your folds as he takes it in. “So fucking gorgeous.” He groans, leaning in and burying his tongue into your cunt impatiently. Desperate to taste you properly.

“Oh fuck.” You choke, back arching as his tongue dives deep and that infamous nose presses against your clit. “Dee. Oh God.” You moan, slumping back against the pillows as he starts to feast on you.

He hums, smirking into your folds as he tries to take you apart, lick by lick. Loving your sharp, tangy taste and pulling your clit into his mouth to suckle on it harshly and he moves to push two fingers inside your slick walls.

You cry out, clenching around his fingers as he pushes them deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. Oh God.” You choke as he sucks on your clit, “baby baby baby.” You moan as he curls them and makes your cunt gush. “So close. Gonna cum for you.” You murmur, walls fluttering around his fingers until you clench around them.

He loves that you are so vocal. That you are pushing your hips down onto his face and fingers. He curls his tongue around your clit again before he sucks it back into his mouth again. Wanting you to cum for him, wanting to see what it looks like on your body.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart. A cry ripping from your throat as you clamp down on his digits, soaking them as your thighs close around his face, keeping him trapped and smothered by your pussy. “Deeee.” You squeal as you experience the intense rush of pleasure from his mouth.

He groans into your folds, loving how you squeal his name. Licking slowly as he works you through the pleasure until your thighs relax and he pulls back with a grin, smacking his lips.

You open your eyes to look at him, “come here.” You reach down to grab him, pulling him up to you so you can press your lips to his and wrap your legs around him. “I fucking love you. baby.” You murmur against his lips, “so much.”

“I love you too.” He promises, not having any issues pressing down on you and moaning over how good you feel. He loves how you feel with your legs wrapped around him. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks quietly, as if being in different bodies might change your mind.

“Yes. Yes. Need you inside of me.” You beg, his hard cock pressing into your thigh and you reach down to take him into your hand. His groan vibrates against your chin as you pump him a couple of times before you notch him at your entrance. “Fuck me, Dieter.” You whisper as he starts to push into you.

Elbows braced on either side of you, his eyes flutter closed as he slowly fills you. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He hisses. “It’s so good, both bodies. It’s amazing.” He opens his eyes and looks down at you in wonder. “How are you so fucking good? You’re amazing.”

You giggle as you caress his neck, sliding your hands up into his hair as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. This - what’s between us - never could’ve seen it without being you, being in your body. That fucking witch from the coffee place…she - oh God.” You gasp as Dieter pulls out of you and slowly pushes back in, “God. Should find her and thank her.”

Dieter groans, kissing your jaw and down your neck. “Should. Owe her more than I could say.” He doesn’t try to set a speed record, he wants this to last. Wants to make love to you. “I love you, baby. Every inch of your gorgeous body and your brilliant mind.”

You tilt your head so he can kiss more of your skin. “I love all of you, Dee. Trash panda. Brilliant actor. Kind when you want to be. I get you. I know you and I love all of you.” You promise, “doesn’t hurt that you’re - oh God, right there - sexy as hell.”

He grunts, preening slightly at the praise. “There?” His hiss proceeds another thrust against that spot, moaning when you clench around him. “You’re sexier.”

“We are both sexy.” You concede, “gonna make beautiful babies.” You smile as he pushes into that spot again and your mouth falls open as your eyes close. “Fuck. You want babies?” You ask him breathlessly.

He twitches inside you harshly at the thought. Normally he would be running for the hills at the mere mention, but the thought of having babies with you doesn’t scare him. “Fuck yes.” He moans, rocking his hips harder. “Three- no, four. Boys and girls. Little monsters that look like you and act like me. Or look like me and act like you.”

You chuckle breathily, “four babies. Better get started soon, my love.” You tell him as he continues to push into you. “Wanna have your babies. I think you’d be a good daddy.” You tell him, caressing his back as he continues working you towards an orgasm.

He grunts, knowing that you will keep him straight. You’ve been amazing and he knows you will be a good mother. “Take out your IUD.” He challenges you. “Knock you up as soon as you do. Want to see you pregnant.”

You nod, “I’ll make an appointment.” You know this is crazy but all you can do is know that you know Dieter is the one for you. You’ve seen all of him, literally been in his shoes, you know him and you want him. Even the dark bits that no one else sees. “Baby. Oh. That’s - I like that.” You confess as his pelvis grinds against yours, rubbing your clit just right. “Gonna make me cum like that.”

“Good.” He moans, keeping his pelvis against yours as he grinds deep. “Want you to cum. Need to feel it like this. So good for me baby.”

“Gonna - oh shit. Dee!” You cry out as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and moaning as you cum around him. Lights flash behind your eyes as you squeeze them shut and moan at the way he works you through it while you shake beneath him.

You’re gorgeous when you cum. Groaning your name, he tries to push his hips forward but your are locked down around him like a vice. His cock throbbing and he feels his balls pull up. “Gonna cum.” He chokes out, tumbling over the edge after you and collapsing against your body as he fills you.

You sigh, caressing his back as he rests his weight on top of you and you feel so at home. “So fucking good baby.” You murmur, kissing along his jaw until he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet. “I love you.” You whisper as he relaxes above you.

“I love you too, baby.” He hums giddily, snuggling into your neck and sighing softly as he catches his breath. “What a fucking story we have.” He muses, knowing no one would ever believe it.

****

“DJ, hold still.” Dieter grumbles as he tries to affix the broken part of his eldest child’s costume back onto his squirming body. “If you don’t, I can’t fix it and you can’t go as The Mandalorian. You want to be Din, right?”

You smile as you adjust Ella’s outfit. She wanted to go as Padme and your other son, Sammy, is dressed as Darth Vader. Dieter is dressed like Han Solo and you are dressed as Leia. The youngest, Ollie, is dressed like Grogu. “Lemme try.” You say, gently taking over from Dieter as he struggles with the jet pack. You manage to get it fixed and smile, “there you go, my love. All fixed.” You stand up and grin, “now who wants to go get candy?” You ask and the kids cheer. The Sherman Oaks neighborhood is surprisingly kid friendly as people set up displays outside their large homes and have candy waiting - some pick the expensive shit from Erewhon - and some have regular candy. “Mommy?” Ella asks as you hold her hand while Dieter carries Ollie.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You ask as she looks up at you. “You and daddy fell in love on Halloween, right?” She asks innocently and you grin, looking over at Dieter who winks at you.

“Yes we did.” You nod and she asks, “why did you fall in love?” She asks and you bite your lip, knowing the truth is more than anyone could handle, especially a five year old.

“You wanna take this one, babe?” You as Dieter with a smirk.

Dieter bites his lip and hums thoughtfully. “Mommy was really pretty in her costume.” Dieter tells his kids, who look at him eagerly. “She made daddy realize that he wanted to kiss her.”

You giggle when DJ wrinkles his nose, “ewww. Mommy and Daddy kissing.” He makes a noise of disgust and the other kids all join in, making you lean in to give Dieter a soft kiss.

“And I wanted daddy to kiss me. Then we fell in love. And then all of you came along.” You say, knowing that this story will be better for them to understand. “Now, let’s go get candy.” You try to distract them and it works as they continue walking to the next house.

“That was sweet.” You murmur as Dieter wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close after he sets down Ollie and holds his hand.

“Mommy looks really pretty in her costume tonight. Shame you didn’t go with the other Leia outfit we saw.” He says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t you worry, baby. That’s waiting at home for me to put on after the kids are asleep.” You promise, a wicked glint in your eye.

“I can’t wait.” He chuckles. Since that night you switched back, there’s never been a time where you’ve changed bodies again and even though he wanted to thank her, the witch from the party never resurfaced again. So neither one of you could express how thankful you are that she had cast her spell over you, allowing you both to walk a mile in the other’s shoes. It had led to this moment and there wasn’t a Halloween party that Dieter would rather be at than this one right here with the four beautiful kids he has with you, his wonderful wife.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fic #bodyswap au

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weirdmorefics · 7 months ago

Note

Could you pls do a fake dating fic with Colin bridgerton? Tysm xx

A Life Long Scheme

A/N- Sorry for the delay! I really do have the fanfiction writer curse! I say that every time but I mean it! I got my appendix out and rode in an ambulance. They don't even play music in them FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 2,512

Summary- You convince Colin to fake court you to gain the attention of other suitors but jealousy consumes Colin.

I knew I would have a hard time finding a suitor from a young age. My family may be wealthy enough to attend balls but certainly not enough for a sizable dowry for each of their children. I grew up competitive trying to prove myself worthy even if I came with a small dowry. My siblings relied on their looks but I was determined to be the best at everything. I will treat coming out like I do life competitively. As the eldest, I must set an example.

I was lined up with the others coming out into society this year. They all nervously played with their clothes and looked to the floor. I too felt like doing that but I kept my emotions bottled tightly in my chest and held my head high. We all took our turns bowing in front of the Queen she looked completely unbothered by us, dare I say bored.

I was last in line she looked me up and down and said, "I am unsure if anyone qualifies as a diamond this season."

I can't fight back the sharp inhale I take, I can physically feel my heart launch its way into my throat. I feel as if I may hurl as she gets up and walks away escorted by her guards. I look around at others visible shock. I can't help but feel the Queen just left because of me. I mean I was the last one. I need to do something! I can't fail already I just came out into society!

My night was filled with pacing and plotting. There has to be a way to impress Her Majesty. My Mama tried to comfort me but Father quickly told her there was no point in speaking to me when I was like this. I hate to admit but he is unfortunately correct. Once I am in a thought spiral there is no getting out. I thought of other seasons for most of the night as I lay in bed. What did they do to gain the Queen's attention? The most notable season of late would have to be Daphne's. I can't recall the last time The Ton has seen a marriage done with such haste before. She had a massive amount of suitors after her though that was only after The Duke's appearance.

The idea hit me suddenly I launched out of bed, put my carpet slippers on, and ran out of the house. I am lucky my family sleeps so soundly because I am sure I sounded like a horse trotting as I ran through the house. The Bridgerton manor is right next to ours, so close in fact that I grew up playing games with all the Bridgertons. Colin has always been my dearest friend (even though Mama always told me a male friend was improper). I knew Colin would go along with my plan, we have been scheming and pranking since we were children. This should be no different! It unfortunately hit me how late it was when I stood in the darkness of the Bridgerton Garden. I was here now I refused to backtrack just because it was an untimely hour.

I used the bushes to help guide me to Colin's familiar window. Once there I gathered tiny pebbles and started ricocheting them off his window. It did not take him long to wake and open the window with a messy bedhead and a lit lantern. His face instantly flushes at the sight of me.

"My god Y/n what are you doing out here in this state!" He shouts

I follow his gaze to my clothes and feel my face heat. My god, I did not think this through as I stood in front of Colin Bridgerton's window in the dark, in my silk nightgown. I will see this through the damage is done. "I have a plan," I smile.

He sighs and rubs his forehead, "Oh no… you are lucky my sleeping schedule is still askew from traveling abroad. Now get inside before someone sees you!"

I met him in the drawing room and he refused to look me in the eye, "So what is so important that you have decided to grace the house with your presence at this ungodly hour."

"I am here to present you with a proposition," I clasp my hands as he finally looks at my face suspiciously.

"And what might this proposition be? I can assume nothing good," he questions.

I roll my eyes and pace as I recite my plan."As you know Daphne was utterly suitorless during her season courtesy of Anthony. However, the moment a Duke entered the picture she had men competing for hand. They could not care less about Anthony's interventions."

Colin nodded confused, "Your point?"

"My point is I need competition! So I propose that you pretend to court me! If you will? I know you are aware of my Papa's financial situation… I mean the whole ton is after Lady Whistledown published his unfortunate business decisions and his one-too-many daughters for a dowry. None of this will matter if I can get a suitor who loves me and will help my family but that can't be done if I can't attract a suitor!" I continue to pace as Colin looks entirely unsure of what to make of this situation. I take a deep breath, "So what do you say?"

Colin looks at me with puppy dog eyes, "Of course Y/n. You are my dearest friend. I must know why you decided to discuss this so late at night in your…" he flushes again and looks to the ground. "In your nightgown."

I suddenly became all too aware of my attire and became a stuttering mess, "the conversation was of utmost importance the time of day and clothing choices have nothing to do with it!"

Colin smirks, "I see."

"I must save my Papa's business if not for him but for the chance my sisters will get to marry for true love and not for financial gain," I sigh. Colin's eyes which were once teasing turn to sadness, "Do not look at me like that Colin. I don't need your pity, I need your help."

He nods and straightens his posture, "Of course Y/n. Of course, I will help."

I quietly snuck back into the house after speaking to Colin. The plan was set in stone he would be the first dance on my dance card and we would round up potential suitors together. We were joined at the hip for every event and I purposely chose the busiest times to promenade so the most amount of suitors would see us.

I soon began to gain the attention of many suitors and even had many coming to my house to call on me! Mama was so proud I was so happy to take her mind off the situation with Papa.

Mama pulled me to the side of the drawing room, "Maybe hanging out with the Bridgerton boy will help you! Maybe their fortune will rub off on us!" I was proud to inform her I was to promenade in the park today with Colin. It was odd to see her smile with excitement instead of pale at the thought of her daughter spending her time with a man who never planned to court her. I wish she wasn't only proud of me when I wasn't doing something that benefited me in finding a wealthy suitor. It's no matter though, I will do anything to make her proud, and it feels like I'm finally doing it. She spent the whole morning with me to find a suitable dress for my outing.

Colin arrived promptly at the time we set previously and accompanied me to the park. As we promenaded I felt many eyes on us they truly believed Colin would court the daughter of a family barely escaping financial ruin. It is truly almost humorous how easily we have swayed the ton.

"It is truly working Colin! Mother is so proud that I will be the one to save my family's reputation. Such a shame she picked such a layered gown for one of the warmest days of the season," I whisper and fiddle with the seams of my dress.

Colin sighs, "How many suitors are you getting from this Y/n? They can't all have honorable intentions given your beauty and your family's standing."

I roll my eyes, " Why Colin Bridgerton are you jealous? I would not think you are the type. Do not worry you will always be my dearest friend. No husband could replace you."

His face turns serious, "I am just worried. I hope you are doing this for the right reasons and not for the sake of your Mama… and I am most certainly not jealous."

For someone who said he is certainly not jealous he didn't sound quite certain. That, however, is not what distracted me. "You think I want to marry a man not for love but purely for financial gain? It is every woman's dream to marry for love! We can't all have the privilege to do so! Especially one born into a family with a gambling addict for a father and a mother too frail to defend herself. My mother has been preparing me for coming out since I was a child! This is my job as the eldest! To secure a good future for my siblings so perhaps they get the opportunity to marry for love as I will never get to!" I back up as if I may burn from Colin's shocking gaze but I still point a finger at him, "And the fact that you don't already know this Bridgerton is having me question if we ever truly were friends! Perhaps all those travel stories in your head leave not much room for anything else."

I storm away from the Bridgerton, I think after his initial shock he calls for me but my rage prevents me from looking back to see if it was true or a cruel trick of my ears. It was perhaps not the greatest idea to run off from a suitor with no chaperone. Maybe I wouldn't have found myself in such a precarious situation if I had chaperone. I find myself cursing my father in my head for his terrible gambling habits that prevent anyone from wanting to associate with the likes of us. Therefore getting me into this mess in the first place.

"Y/N L/N, we have been watching you for quite some time. Your father never described your intense beauty but how could one put it into words?" The seedy man approached me.

I smiled politely, "Thank you! May I inquire how you know my father?"

"Oh darling I think you know why we are here. I mean the whole ton knows about your father's habits shall we say." He smiles menaceingly and I think to myself of course this has to do with his damn gambling habits.

I back up in case I have to make a quick escape and he unfortunately catches on. He grabs my wrist to keep me in place, "We have been very patient with your father. Given his position in the ton, we thought we could be lenient with his payment schedule. However, it turns out we were mistaken. What is more shocking is the fact that his daughter thinks she has a chance of finding a suitor with no dowry."

"Sir please unhand me," I try to pull away from his grasp.

"You think being in the company of the Bridgertons will help your family situation? Perhaps we could take you as payment? You do draw a lot of attention despite your social ruin. We could use you to bring more men to the establishment," he smiles sinisterly.

I yank my hand away even harder out of fear but his strength still outmatches mine, "Why would I ever help you put more families in financial ruin!"

He laughs, "Darling you think you have a choice?"

His eyes narrow at something behind me and I hear Colin's voice, "I believe the lady asked you to unhand her."

"This does not involve you, sir," he growled.

"You see it is my business when you have your hands on my betrothed, Colin growls back.

My eyes furrowed in confusion. He had been fake courting me of course but we certainly did not discuss a fake betrothal.

The man laughs yet again, "I read in Lady Whistledown that you were courting her but the fact a Bridgerton would sink to the likes of the L/N family."

I took in a shallow breath and Colin growled in response. This situation was going quickly downhill.

"You will not besmirch the lady's name! Now I won't ask again unhand her!" Colin shouts.

"Whatever you say," he smirks and tosses me to the ground. Colin's grimace seems to only encourage the man more, "I'd honestly prefer to use her to replace her father's debt but if you want to drag your family name down with her so be it." He walks away with a peppy jaunt in his step and I glare at him from the ground.

Colin quickly helps me to my feet, "I would have dueled him right here and now if I was not in the presence of a lady."

I brush the dirt off my gown, "It's fine. I'm fine. I will handle it."

"No, you will not! you will not take a step towards that insipid man," he yells.

"Well, Colin you don't really have any choice in that matter! Do you? You are just fake courting me. Or fake betrothing me now? I don't know. I have lost track honestly!" I rant.

His face turns serious, "Y/n I care for you! I would forsake my whole family name for you! You think I do not burn with rage every time I see a new man attempt to call on you after I started court you! I noticed your beauty and your smarts before any of these men did! The fact that they only noticed you once another gentleman entered the picture is disgraceful! I will always notice you Y/n! I will never let your family go through this! I hope to be a love match for you and help your family."

Tears collect in my eyes. As the oldest sibling I've never been the one that was cared for but the one that does the caring. Colin's words made me feel full. I try to tease but it comes more out as a sob, "Mr. Bridgerton are you proposing to me."

He smiles, "I think it is about time I finally proposed to you after you always proposed your schemes to me. So what do you say Ms. L/N? Would you like to continue proposing schemes to me for the rest of our lives?"

I nod aggressively smiling. There was no stopping the happy tears now.

#bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x you #bridgerton request #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton imagine

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loveanton · 6 months ago

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everything i didn’t say | eunseok + sungchan

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: you’ve always been a constant in jung sungchan’s life, he never once imagined a world where you weren’t in his life and often took you for granted. never once realizing just how much you loved him until it was too late.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sungchan x f!reader x eunseok

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: friends to almost lovers!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: heartbreak, sungchan is a meanie and says hurtful things.

⏤ 𝑎/n: was listening to old 5sos and inspiration struck

You've always been in love with Sungchan. From the very first moment you met him in the school courtyard, when he handed you that crumpled homework sheet with a shy smile, you knew he was different. As the years passed, that initial spark only grew stronger, turning into a fierce flame that consumed you every time you saw him. It’s funny, really, how someone can become your entire world without them even realizing it. Every laugh you shared, every secret you whispered, every moment you spent together, it was like living in a dream. But dreams are fragile, and reality has a way of waking you up abruptly.

Sungchan was always a constant in your life, a steady presence that you could always count on. He never once imagined a world where you weren’t there, by his side, supporting him through thick and thin. You think he took it for granted, your unwavering loyalty and affection. Not that you ever blamed him. It’s easy to overlook what’s always there, right in front of you.

You both grew up together, navigating the tumultuous years of adolescence, laughing through your awkward phases, and holding each other up through heartbreaks and disappointments. Sungchan had a magnetic personality; he was charming, kind, and effortlessly popular. People were drawn to him, and he thrived on the attention, though he remained humble and grounded. You, on the other hand, were content to remain in the background, his ever-present shadow, silently cheering him on.

There were moments when you thought he might feel the same way, fleeting glances and lingering touches that set your heart racing. But they were always followed by casual comments about other girls, reminders that you were firmly placed in the friend zone. Still, you held onto hope, convinced that one day he would see you, truly see you, for who you were and how deeply you cared for him.

You wonder when that day will come.

“Sungchan, I really don’t want to go to this party,” you say, trying to keep the whine out of your voice as you hug a cushion to your chest. “I’d rather just stay home and watch anime.”

Sungchan pouts, leaning against your bedroom door. “Come on, it’s going to be fun! Everyone’s going to be there, and I don’t want to go without you.”

Eunseok, Sungchan’s roommate and your mutual friend, looks up from his phone with a smirk. “Dude, if she doesn’t want to go, don’t hound her. Let her have her anime night in peace.”

Sungchan shoots Eunseok a pleading look. “Eunseok, help me out here. You know how boring it’ll be without her.”

Eunseok shrugs, leaning back against the wall. “Why don’t you just go by yourself for once? You don’t need to drag her to every single party, man.”

You smile gratefully at Eunseok, appreciating his attempt to take the pressure off. “Thanks, Eunseok. Besides, you know I’m not really a party person.”

Sungchan sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Please? Just this one last time? I promise I won’t bug you about parties anymore if you come tonight.”

You glance at Eunseok, who raises an eyebrow and grins. “Fine,” you say, giving in. “But only if Eunseok goes too.”

Eunseok chuckles. “Alright, I guess I can sacrifice my night to keep you two company.”

Sungchan’s face lights up, and he pumps his fist in the air. “Yes! It’s going to be awesome, I promise!”

Later that night, the three of you meet up and head to the party together. As soon as you walk through the door, the noise and energy hit you like a wave. Sungchan, in his element, quickly spots some friends and ditches you and Eunseok without a second thought.

You expected this. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Eunseok. “Guess it’s just you and me, then.”

He nods, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Let’s find a quieter spot, yeah?”

You both navigate through the crowd, eventually finding a relatively peaceful corner where the music is a little less deafening. You sit down on a couch, and Eunseok joins you, leaning back and looking around with mild interest.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Sungchan?” he asks after a moment. “You’ve been friends forever, right?”

“Yeah, since middle school,” you reply, feeling a familiar pang in your chest. “He’s always been there for me.”

Eunseok nods, studying your face. “And you’re always there for him.”

You sigh, picking at a loose thread on the couch. “I guess.”

Eunseok’s eyes soften. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance at him, startled. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugs, giving you a small, knowing smile. “I’m observant. And it’s not just me. Everyone who’s close to you can see it.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I’ve tried to keep it a secret.”

Eunseok shakes his head. “You’re not fooling anyone. And honestly, I don’t think Sungchan is as clueless as he pretends to be.”

You stiffen, your eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Before Eunseok can answer, you spot Sungchan across the room, laughing with Yuri, the popular tennis captain. Your heart sinks as you watch them together, the easy way they interact, the chemistry that’s undeniable.

She’s beautiful, confident, and completely captivated by Sungchan. The way she looks at him, with an intensity that mirrors your own hidden feelings, sends a pang of jealousy through your chest. You try to shake it off, to remind yourself that Sungchan and you are just friends, that you have no claim over him. But it hurts, more than you want to admit.

Eunseok follows your gaze and sighs. “Why do you let him do this to you?”

You tear your eyes away from Sungchan and look at Eunseok, confused. “Do what?”

“Play with your feelings like this,” he says softly. “It’s like he knows exactly how you feel and he’s just stringing you along.”

You shake your head, feeling a surge of anger. “No, Sungchan isn’t like that. He’s not cruel.”

Eunseok holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “He brought you to a party knowing you hate them just to abandon you. You deserve better.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of Eunseok. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Eunseok says firmly. “You have a big heart, and you care deeply. That’s not a bad thing. But you also need to take care of yourself.”

You look down, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. “I just...I keep hoping that he’ll see me. Really see me.”

Eunseok leans closer, his voice gentle. “And what if he never does? Are you going to keep waiting forever?”

You bite your lip, unable to answer. The thought of giving up on Sungchan is too painful to contemplate.

Eunseok sighs, placing a hand on yours. “You’re a wonderful person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life. Don’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate that.”

You look up at him, grateful for his words even though they sting. “Thanks, Eunseok. I needed to hear that.”

He smiles, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You stick close to Eunseok, finding comfort in his presence. He’s a good listener, and you find yourself opening up to him more than you expected. He shares stories about his own life, his ambitions, and his struggles, and you realize how little you actually knew about him before tonight.

As the night wears on, you watch Sungchan and Yuri grow closer, their conversation becoming more intimate, their touches more frequent. You felt like an outsider, a silent observer to the budding romance that was unfolding before your eyes. You knew then that you were losing him, that the dream you had cherished for so long was slipping away.

As the party winds down, you and Eunseok decide to leave. Sungchan is nowhere to be found, still presumably with Yuri. You walk back to your apartment with Eunseok, the cool night air helping to clear your mind.

When you reach your door, Eunseok turns to you with a serious expression. “Remember what I said. You deserve to be happy.”

You nod, feeling a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. “I will. Thanks, Eunseok.”

He smiles and gives you a small wave before heading to his own apartment. You watch him go, a sense of calm settling over you.

The next morning, you wake up to a series of text messages lighting up your phone. Blinking away the sleep, you scroll through the notifications. Eunseok’s message catches your eye first.

[eunseok]: Hey, just checking in. How are you feeling this morning?

A soft smile tugs at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest at his concern. You scroll down to find another message from Sungchan.

[sungchanie]: last night was wild! i think i met the love of my life lol.”

Your heart sinks. You feel a sharp pang of jealousy and sadness. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself and respond to Sungchan’s message with a simple thumbs-up emoji. You then turn back to Eunseok’s message, grateful for his support.

[you]: morning eunseok. just found out that sungchan thinks yuri is the love of his life lol :p

His reply is almost immediate.

[eunseok]: I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to come over? I have ice cream and a Netflix subscription.

You giggle despite yourself, feeling a bit lighter.

[you]: yes please! cookie dough ice cream?

[eunseok]: You got it. Be there soon.

A short while later, there’s a knock on your door. You open it to find Eunseok standing there with a tub of cookie dough ice cream, two spoons and a warm smile.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside. He doesn’t ask any questions, just pulls you into a hug and leads you to the couch.

“Hey,” you reply, feeling a little better already.

You both settle in, the ice cream tub between you. As the first romcom starts playing, you can’t help but feel grateful for Eunseok’s presence. He makes you laugh at all the right moments, and the pain of seeing Sungchan with Yuri begins to fade into the background.

By the time you’re halfway through the second movie, you find yourself cuddled up against Eunseok, his arm draped over your shoulders. The warmth and comfort you feel with him are undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace.

However a series of knocks on the door soon interrupts your tranquility. Sighing, you disentangle yourself from Eunseok and head to answer it. Standing there is Sungchan, his usual bright smile on his face.

“Hey! You won’t believe how amazing Yuri is,” he starts, letting himself in. His excitement is palpable, but it quickly dims when he spots Eunseok on the couch, occupying what has always been his unspoken spot.

“What’s he doing here?” Sungchan asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Eunseok looks up casually. “Hanging out with ____”

You take a deep breath, summoning the strength you’ve been cultivating over the past few hours. “Sungchan, we’re busy right now. Can you come back later?”

Sungchan looks taken aback, surprise flickering across his face. He glances between you and Eunseok before nodding slowly. “Uh, sure. I’ll catch you later then.”

You watch him leave, closing the door gently behind him. Turning back to Eunseok, you feel a strange mixture of relief and anxiety.

“I’m proud of you,” Eunseok says softly, pulling you back into his arms. “I know that probably wasn’t easy.”

You blush, shrugging lightly. “It’s... getting easier.”

The next few weeks follow a similar pattern. You and Eunseok spend more time together, finding comfort in each other’s company. You gradually start to distance yourself from Sungchan, realizing that holding onto the hope of him seeing you differently only brings more pain.

Sometimes, the days that follow are a blur of pain and numbness. Sungchan calls and texts you, mostly about Yuri and you can’t bring yourself to respond. You need space, time to come to terms with the reality that he has found someone else, someone who isn’t you. You tell yourself that you should be happy for him, that his happiness is all that matters, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

One evening, as you're sitting in your room, trying to focus on studying, your phone lights up with a text message. It’s from Sungchan.

[sungchanie]: did i do something wrong?

Your heart sinks at the message. Despite everything, you still care deeply about him, and the thought of hurting him hurts you too. You stare at the screen, unsure of how to respond.

A few minutes later, another message comes through.

[sungchanie]: i hate the silent treatment y/n :(

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. As much as you don’t want to feel anything for him anymore, you can’t deny the rush of emotions that flood your chest.

[you]: “hey sungchan. you haven’t done anything wrong,,,just been swamped with classes and needed some time to myself

Almost immediately, your phone buzzes with another message from him.

[sungchanie]: can i come over? i miss hanging out with you

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Despite everything, you find yourself typing back.

[you]: sure

Not long after, there’s a knock on your door. You take a deep breath and open it to find Sungchan standing there with a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside. “I’ve missed you.”

You manage a small smile. “I’ve missed you too.”

He glances around your room. “Where’s Eunseok? I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip.”

You chuckle nervously, feeling a pang of guilt. “He’s at a study group.”

Sungchan nods, taking a seat on your bed. “So, about Yuri...”

Your heart sinks, but you swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile. “Yeah, tell me about her.”

Sungchan launches into how he and Yuri have been on a few dates, how he thinks he’s going to ask her out officially soon. You listen, nodding along and trying to push down the ache in your chest.

“That’s great, Sungchan,” you manage to say, forcing cheerfulness into your tone. “I’m really happy for you.”

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text message from Eunseok.

[eunseok]: Hey! Would you like to join me and some friends for a game night tonight?

You smile at the invitation and text back quickly.

[you]: sure! i’ll be there ^-^

Sungchan glances at your phone curiously. “Who’s that?”

You hesitate, then decide to be honest. “It’s Eunseok. He invited me to join him for a game night with his friends.”

Sungchan’s expression shifts slightly, a flicker of jealousy crossing his face. “Oh. Are you guys... dating?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and you falter for a moment. “Um, no, we’re just friends.”

But Sungchan doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. His brows furrow, and he leans forward, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just... you two seem really close. It almost feels like he’s replacing me.”

You feel a surge of frustration and hurt. “Sungchan, he’s just being a good friend. No one could ever replace you.”

He shakes his head, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re letting Eunseok get in between us!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Eunseok. He’s just my friend.”

Sungchan stands up, his voice rising. “I’ve known you for so long, and now suddenly Eunseok is always around. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore!”

You stand up too, your own anger bubbling. “That’s not fair, Sungchan! You’ve been spending all your time with Yuri, and I needed someone to talk to. Eunseok has been there for me when you weren’t.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve replaced me with him. Every time I turn around, he’s there. And it feels like you don’t even care.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you try to defend yourself. “I do care! But you’re the one who’s been distant. You’re the one who found someone else.”

Sungchan’s eyes flash with hurt and anger. “Maybe I did, but that doesn’t mean you had to replace me so easily.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re being unfair, Sungchan. Eunseok is just a good friend. You’re the one who’s been pushing me away.”

His face hardens, and he takes a step back. “Maybe I needed to, because it hurts too much to see you with him.”

You’re stunned into silence, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. Before you can say anything, he turns on his heel and storms out of your room, slamming the door behind him.

You collapse onto your bed, tears streaming down your face. The argument replays in your mind, each word cutting deeper than the last. You can’t shake the feeling of loss and confusion, wondering how things went so wrong.

Despite your pain, you decide to suck it up and go to the game night. You text Eunseok, letting him know you’re on your way. When you arrive, his friends greet you warmly, their cheerful banter and infectious energy immediately starting to lift your spirits.

Eunseok’s friends, Beomgyu, Anton, Karina, Yujin and Jake, quickly draw you into their circle. They’re a lively bunch, and it’s impossible not to be swept up in their enthusiasm.

“Alright, who’s ready for a game of spoons?” Beomgyu announces, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You’re not planning to cheat again, are you, Beomgyu?” Yujin teases, raising an eyebrow.

He gasps dramatically. “Me? Cheat? Never!” But there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests otherwise.

Anton and Jake’s dynamic is particularly amusing. Anton is calm and methodical, while Jake is a bundle of energy, constantly in motion. They bicker and banter like an old married couple, which keeps you entertained and helps take your mind off Sungchan.

As the game progresses, you can’t help but notice Beomgyu’s suspiciously fast reflexes. Every time a spoon is up for grabs, he somehow always manages to snatch it first.

“I’m onto you, Beomgyu,” you say with a mock-serious tone after he wins yet another round. “You’re definitely cheating.”

He laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just that good, I swear!”

Eunseok, sitting next to you, chuckles. “Don’t let him fool you, ____. Beomgyu’s a known cheater.”

You laugh along, feeling more relaxed than you have all evening but Eunseok’s keen eyes don’t miss the occasional flickers of sadness that cross your face. After you both lose a particularly intense round of spoons, he stands up and offers you a hand.

“Help me with snacks in the kitchen?” he asks gently.

You nod and follow him, grateful for the brief escape. In the kitchen, Eunseok begins prepping more snacks, occasionally feeding you bits of fruit or cheese.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his concern evident.

You sigh, leaning against the counter. “Sungchan and I got into an argument before I came over.”

Eunseok pauses, looking at you intently. “What was it about?”

You hesitate, then spill the details about Sungchan feeling replaced by Eunseok and how hurt and jealous he seemed. Eunseok’s expression darkens.

“He said that it hurt too much to see us together.”

“That’s manipulative,” he says bluntly.

You shake your head, feeling a rush of defensiveness. “He’s just hurt, Eunseok.”

“He knows what he’s doing, ____,” Eunseok counters. “Why would he say that it hurts to see us together if he doesn’t have feelings for you? He’s just stringing you along.”

You don’t know what to say, the truth of his words sinking in but conflicting with your loyalty to Sungchan. The emotions swirling inside you become too much to handle.

“I think I should go home,” you finally say, your voice small.

Eunseok’s face falls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“It’s not you,” you reassure him, managing a weak smile. “It’s just hitting me how messed up this situation is.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Let me walk you home.”

You shake your head. “No, you should stay with your friends. I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Eunseok nods. “Alright, but text me when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” you promise.

As you make your way home, your mind races with thoughts of the evening’s events. You replay Eunseok’s words over and over, feeling a mixture of frustration, sadness, and an unexpected hint of clarity.

When you finally arrive home, you text Eunseok as promised.

[you]: i’m home. thanks for tonight

[eunseok]: Anytime. I'm here if you need to talk.

You appreciate his unwavering support but feel a heavy weight pressing on your chest. You sit on your bed, staring at your phone, wondering how you ended up in this tangled web of emotions.

The next week is a blur of classes and studying. You try to avoid thinking about Sungchan and focus on your schoolwork, but it’s a losing battle. His absence is a constant ache, a reminder of the distance growing between you.

Tonight, you find yourself standing in front of his apartment, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t know what you hope to achieve, but you know you can’t keep pretending that everything is okay. You need closure, one way or another.

Before you can even knock, the door swings open and Sungchan stands there, surprise flashing across his face when he sees you. “____, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just then, Yuri pops out from behind Sungchan, wrapping her arms around his waist and planting a kiss on his lips. Your heart clenches as you watch them, but you force yourself to stay composed.

After a moment, Yuri finally pulls away. “I’ll see you later, Sungchan,” she says, giving him one last peck and you a smug grin before leaving.

Once she’s gone, Sungchan lets you in, making a snarky comment as he closes the door. “Where’s Eunseok? I thought he’d be glued to your side.”

You stay calm and reply, “I didn’t come to fight with you, Sungchan. I just want to clear the air.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “So, are you ready to apologize?”

You’re taken aback. “Apologize for what?”

“For being a bad friend recently,” he says, standing his ground.

Anger rises within you. “No, Sungchan. You’ve been a bad friend. You blew me off at the party after begging me to go. Then here comes Yuri, and now you’re completely pussy whipped.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Yuri. I thought you’d be over your little high school crush by now.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

Sungchan stares at you blankly and you feel anger coursing through your veins as you realize he’s known all this time. He knew just how much you love and care for him and he took it selfishly, knowing just what to say to keep you by his side. He only ever gave you just enough to string you along and give you false hope. Eunseok was right.

“How could you be so... so cruel? All this time you knew I liked you but led me on and kept me around for your own satisfaction. How could you do that? We’re supposed to be best friends.”

“Exactly,” he snaps back. “Best friends. So stop thinking we’ll ever be more. It weirds me out.”

The argument escalates, voices rising with each exchange.

“You knew,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “You knew how I felt and you still... How could you do that?”

“I didn’t have feelings for you then, and I still don’t now,” Sungchan retorts, his face twisted in anger. “You need to move on.”

“How could you be so heartless?” you cry out, the pain evident in your voice. “You used me. You knew how much I cared and you used me.”

Sungchan’s expression softens for a moment, guilt flickering in his eyes, but it quickly hardens again. “I didn’t use you. I thought you were over it. I thought we were just friends.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “Go screw yourself, Sungchan.”

You turn towards the door, ready to leave, but before you can open it, Eunseok lets himself in. He sees your tears and Sungchan’s guilty expression, his own face hardening with anger.

“What the hell is going on here?” Eunseok demands, glaring at Sungchan before turning his attention to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He grabs your hand and leads you away, his grip firm but gentle. You don’t resist, too overwhelmed by the confrontation to do anything but follow him. He takes you to a nearby boba shop and finds a quiet corner for the two of you. After placing your orders, he brings your drink and sits beside you, offering silent support.

For a while, you both sip your drinks in silence. Then, Eunseok starts talking about his economics midterm, detailing how tough it was and how he’s sure he failed. You appreciate his attempt to distract you and let him continue, feeling a small sense of normalcy returning.

Once he’s done venting about his exam, you take a deep breath and softly say, “Thank you.”

He smiles gently. “You never have to thank me. I’m here for you, always.”

He looks at you with gentle concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You play with the straw of your drink, gathering your thoughts. “We had a huge fight. Sungchan said some really hurtful things… things I didn’t expect him to say.”

Eunseok’s face darkens. “What did he say?”

You recount the argument, detailing how Sungchan accused you of being a bad friend and dismissed your feelings as a mere high school crush. By the time you’re done, Eunseok is seething with anger on your behalf.

“He’s an immature prick,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “How could he say those things to you? After everything you’ve done for him?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tears welling up again. “I thought he was my best friend.”

Eunseok takes your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “You deserve so much better, ____. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re in the wrong. You’ve been an amazing friend to him, and he doesn’t appreciate it.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded heart, and you manage a small smile. “Thank you, Eunseok. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles back, his anger slowly dissipating. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here for you, always.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping your drinks and finding solace in each other’s presence.

#sungchan #jung sungchan #jung sungchan imagines #sungchan imagines #riize #riize sungchan #riize imagines #sungchan angst #riize eunseok #eunseok #eunseok imagines #song eunseok #song eunseok imagines #eunseok x reader #sungchan x reader

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flowerandblood · 11 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (11)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, swearing, descriptions of wounds, physical and verbal aggression ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what had happened, after what he had found out, he ordered his most necessary things to be moved to her chamber. Seeing the look on his face and his fury, his mother dared not say a word on the matter, sensing that he already knew what she had done with his grandfather's blessing.

She had forced his betrothed to drink moon tea without his knowledge, without his consent, knowing that he would never allow it to happen, that if it turned out she was expecting his child he would marry her immediately without asking their opinion.

He thought with regret and remorse consuming his soul and heart that he should have done it right away, but now it was too late.

His moment of hesitation had cost him everything.

For the first two days, the only thing that came out of his niece's mouth was a quiet babble; she was still asleep, and when she woke up, his sister fed her with warm soup.

Helaena was the only person besides the maester and himself that he allowed to be in her chamber.

His mother, grandfather and Cole were not allowed in by his decision – he had vowed to them that if they crossed the threshold of her quarters, neither he nor Vhagar would aid them with their participation in the war they had unleashed at their own request.

As it turned out, his threat worked.

He realised that he was indeed a rider of the greatest dragon living in the world and could use that as a negotiating card, that they needed him and the alliance he could provide for them.

Storm's End.

He only left her alone when he needed to deal with something urgent, always asking Helaena to stay by her side then.

He trusted no one but her.

To his surprise, his brother-king showed a surprising understanding and a kind of compassion he had not expected from him.

He did not mock or joke about the situation during the meetings of the Small Council, and asked if her health was improving, personally giving his permission for him to be able to stay with her day and night even though he was not her husband, against the wishes of their grandfather.

The power they had was turning against him and Otto felt this, his daughter was also no longer so willing to listen to him seeing what tragedy the decisions he was putting into her head had led to.

She had completely broken down after the day following his niece's attempt to take her own life, because word from Dragonstone reached them that Rheanyra had lost her child.

In him his mother tried to find understanding and words of comfort, but he did not speak to her or look at her, unable to forgive her for her betrayal.

He had hoped that as a woman she would show more sensitivity, more caution.

His niece lived as if half asleep, waking and falling back into a dream, not understanding who she was or what was happening to her.

As night fell he would pull off his tunic and boots, staying in just his chemise and breeches, lying down behind her back, embracing her, entwining their fingers, sinking his face into her fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.

She purred then sweetly, involuntarily recognising him, her head tilting back, letting him place soft, warm, wet kisses on her long neck, his large hands tentatively trailing over her body covered only by her thin nightgown, trying to draw on the time he had left until it reached her what had really happened.

His cock throbbed hard in his breeches as she whispered his name, pressing against her buttocks; he sighed quietly then, rubbing against her but not bringing himself to fulfilment, punishing himself in this way, recognising that he did not deserve relief.

He wanted to burn with her.

After three days he was awakened by her quiet hiss; he flinched and opened his eyes, sensing that she was trying to get up. She stared at her wrists wrapped in a fresh bandages before looking at him and he already knew.

Her lips pressed together, her brow arched in pain and disbelief, her eyes glazed over with tears of helplessness, anger and disappointment, her body began to twitch.

"− my love? −" He whispered, but she turned away from him, laying back on the bed and wept. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her neck, feeling the squeeze in his throat, breathing erratically, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.

"− I didn't know − I swear I didn't know about moon tea −" He muttered, but he knew it was for nothing.

She didn't speak to him then or for the next few days, not even bestowing a single glance on him.

He thought with a sneer that the roles were reversed, that now it was he who begged in his thoughts for her attention, for her forgiveness, and he wondered if she would follow in his footsteps and not speak to him for the next eight years.

He sat in the evenings in a chair by the fireplace, gazing at her silhouette lying on her bed, a book in her hand, her wrists no longer bandaged, her freshly healed wounds still red, dark lines on her skin reminding him of who he was and what he had done to her.

At night he would lie down beside her and embrace her from behind, stroking her hands with his thumbs, and though her whole body tensed and froze when he touched her, she never pushed him away.

It seemed to him that her silence was even worse than her words of condemnation.

The day he was to set out on his mission to Storm's End was approaching mercilessly and she still didn't know it; he had no idea how he should convey it to her, himself discouraged and bitter at the thought of being forced to marry another woman, of living in a purely political marriage, which although he had reckoned with as a child, after his father's decision, he believed he would never experience.

He thought, looking at her face, at the girlish, pleasing shape of her body, about marrying her in secret, but he knew that she no longer wanted him, and no Septon would agree to help him out of fear of the Queen and his grandfather.

A nuptials in the tradition of Old Valyria remained, however, it required a cooperation on her part that he did not expect.

Moreover, guards stood outside her chambers day and night, watching not only her but also him, his grandfather was prudent and seeing his involvement he knew that he would try to act behind his back.

Although he hid behind a stony, indifferent face he felt helpless and tried to find a solution in his mind that would give him more room to act, to lull his family's vigilance.

He decided that, for the time being, he had to act as his relatives wished, so that they would believe that he was going to do what they told him to.

However, he had no idea how he was going to reason with his niece, how he was going to initiate her into his plans when, for obvious reasons, she was no longer going to participate.

He finally decided, experiencing a kind of revelation, that he would write her a letter, just as she had done to him all these years.

He saw her lift her gaze to him from the piece of embroidery she had just worked on, a bird from the crest of the Arryn family, her relatives on her grandmother's side, as he moved towards his secretary's desk, from which he pulled out a quill, ink and parchment.

Her expression of who she was, who she identified with, whose side she stood on.

He didn't give a fuck.

He sank the sharpened quill into the ink and stared at the blank sheet of parchment for a moment, wondering what it was he actually wanted to convey to her, and then he began to write, for the first time in his life openly expressing what he felt.

He thought it was liberating in a way, his words flowed like a river from his mind and his heart.

My Rhaenys,

I set out on my journey to Storm's End to quench my grandfather and mother's thirst with a sense of injustice. It occurs to me that only now am I able to understand what you have been going through all these years, experiencing from me only the silence I deeply believed you deserved at the time.

I'm sure you think the same of me now, and you're not wrong, because I myself am unable to comment or justify what happened through my hesitation, which cost me everything.

I thought it is easy to see what is right and what is wrong, to choose the proper path, but after my father's death it became apparent that none of this was the case, and my mother's and my grandfather's decision set it out for me, against my will, and although I tried to stand up to it, it seems to me that the consequences of their actions have sunk me like a wave that carries me onward, away from the safe harbour that you are.

I want you to realise, my niece, that one word from you is enough for us to slit our lips and hands upon my return and drink our warm, mingled blood, sealing at last our destiny once and for all.

I, unlike Aegon the Conqueror, want you in my bed every night.

I don't think Lord Baratheon's mind can contain what we read about as children and that he would accept that his daughter would be merely a second, and moreover, unwanted wife in my life. Union with him may give us an army to wage war on, but my union with you may in my mind end it with the birth of our child, a descendant of the Greens and Blacks.

I am not, and will not be able to accept, either as your uncle or as your husband, Jacerys, Lucerys or Joffrey as heirs to the throne for reasons that are well known to you, and which neither the marriage nor the threats of your stepfather and your mother can change − we both know full well that they do not and cannot have rights to the crown.

However, Aegon's and Viserys's rights to it are strong, unassailable even by me, and although as your uncle I have no personal interest in your mother or her offspring sitting on the Iron Throne, as your husband I would be willing, as part of a truce, to agree that it should not be Helaena and Aegon's children who inherit the throne, but my half-sister's and my uncle's or, if both sides in the conflict were to be at least partially satisfied, ours.

I have spent the last few days reflecting on what has happened and on what I think would be a solution that would satisfy me, but it has turned out that there is none. Unlike my brother, I don't delude myself that your mother will bend the knee, any more than any person with any dignity or pride would.

We all have to sacrifice something.

He looked at what he had written being filled with awe at how many words were in his mind, how many thoughts he was afraid to say out loud, that one could perhaps even consider a betrayal.

His words to her, to his childhood friend.

He huffed at the ink, wanting to make sure it wouldn't smudge, and rolled the parchment into a scroll. He rose from his seat with a creak of wood, feeling her surprised gaze on him as he placed his letter on the small table beside her bed, and then left, informing his guards that in his absence no one but his sister was allowed to cross the threshold of her chamber.

He changed with the help of his servants into his rider's attire, his leather cloak and gloves reminding him of how long it had been since he was riding on Vhagar, absorbed in all the events of the past weeks.

Rhaenyra gathering her forces around Dragonstone, her wrath that reached all the way to the Red Keep announcing that she would take back everything she had been robbed of.

Her daughter and her throne.

He thought about this, heading for the hill near the keep where his dragoness rested, no longer fitting into the Dragon Pit, like he didn't suit anywhere, didn't belong anywhere.

His journey to Strom's End was unpleasant and tiring; he had the feeling that the heavens were trembling with rage, that he was defying, though not of his free will, his destiny, the storm around him and the rain made him see little and he had to be very careful, gliding between the peaks of the mountains.

When he finally saw the high stone stronghold on the edge of the cliff in the distance he pressed his lips together and thought he would choose the most annoying and unpleasant of his daughters, not to experience a single bit of sympathy towards her when she realised what fate awaited her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his beloved, his Rhaenys, and felt his heart beat fast, elated at the thought that she had surely already read his letter.

He thought it was amusing that as he flew to choose his future wife, all he could think about was how much he wanted to marry someone else.

He was welcomed in the fortress with honours. Lord Baratheon with his wife and daughters awaited him in the great circular throne room lit by torchlight, all around them he could hear the thunders being muffled by the thick walls.

"My Lord." He said lowly, looking up at the tall man seated before him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed as if he was judging him as a candidate for a husband for his daughters.

He struggled to contain the grimace of amusement that pressed across his face.

"My Prince. At last you have honoured us with your presence." He said drily, with an impatience from which his lips involuntarily curved into a wide smile. He could see in his gaze that he did not like it, however he clearly cared as much about this agreement as his mother, for he decided not to make any further remark.

"Let me introduce you to my daughters." He said in a low, throaty voice, pointing with his hand to his side, his gaze lazily directed towards them.

They each had dark hair, tied up in elaborate hairstyles apparently meant to add to their elegance and refinement, braided in the back and smoothed in the front, their simple gowns, though sewn of the most expensive materials, looked faded and grey to him, their eyes dark as were their eyelashes and eyebrows.

They were not repulsive or ugly, yet he felt nothing at the sight of them.

The emptiness that taken over his mind was astonishing to him compared to what overwhelmed his body when he saw his niece years later then, when she had watched his duel with Ser Criston, when he saw her bare shoulders, her long, loose, wavy hair, her sweet, puffy lips, her big, bright eyes.

He shuddered, reminding himself of her beautiful soft bare body, of how wonderfully tight and warm her fleshy insides were, of her sweet, shy moans of pleasure as he opened her wide on his fat cock again and again with confident thrusts of his hips.

His manhood throbbed in his breeches so hard at the thought that he swallowed loudly and grunted.

He nodded and approached them slowly, measuring them with his gaze. Only one of them dared to lift her gaze to him – he noticed a barely visible amused smile on her face. He raised his eyebrows seeing this and thought that she liked to coquet and mock men.

Perfect, he thought.

These were the kind of women he despised the most.

"What do they call you, my Lady?" He asked in a low, deep voice that echoed around them.

The girl straightened up proudly, clearly pleased that she had caught his attention, her gaze travelling over his figure from top to bottom, she was just deciding, apparently, whether she thought him handsome.

"Maris, my Prince." She said softly, her voice low, not as melodious, girlish and light as his niece's.

"Hm." He hummed under his breath and shuddered as he heard a guard walk swiftly into the great hall.

"Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, heir to Driftmark." He announced loudly, and he turned, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, his lips tightening into a thin line as he caught sight of the silhouette of a black-haired boy, completely drenched from his journey.

When Luke spotted him at the other end of the hall he froze completely, pale and terrified – he felt a wild satisfaction at the thought that he knew he didn't stand a chance against him in a battle neither on the ground nor in the heavens.

He watched with a wide grin and a sneer as little Lord Strong in a trembling voice tried to persuade Borros Baratheon to support his mother's claim to the throne in accordance with his father's oath, and laughed aloud when it became apparent that he had come up empty-handed.

"Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't call on me when she wishes like some dog." Growled Lord Baratheon, clearly self-satisfied that he could dismiss him with such ease, leaving him with nothing.

He felt like going after him, forcing him to fall to his knees before him and then gouge out his eye, to experience a wonderful sense of justice and atonement at last, but he refrained, recognising that his Rhaenys would never forgive him for that, so he merely looked away and sighed contentedly, grinning to himself.

"Was it not he who took your eye, my Prince? Are you going to let him just walk away?" He heard Maris's amused, mocking voice behind him and looked down at her with a gaze from which she lost her earlier confidence, her smile gone from her face.

"I have made my decision, my Lord." He said in a cold, indifferent voice. "Her."

Though Borros Baratheon's wife had insisted that he stay in Storm's End and not return to King's Landing during such a violent storm, he had replied that he would leave immediately.

Lady Baratheon looked at him then, tightening her lips, clearly wanting to ask something, hesitating whether she should do so, but in the end she could not bear it.

"It has come to my knowledge that Rhaenyra Targaryen's daughter, and your would-be betrothed, is your prisoner, my Prince." She said reluctantly, watching him intently, as if she wanted to see anything in his face that could tell her if he still had feelings for her, if this girl was any kind of threat to her daughter.

He looked at her with an intense, indifferent gaze until she turned her face away, swallowing loudly.

He hummed under his breath and left without giving either of her daughters a single glance.

As he left their stronghold he noticed with surprise that Luke was standing in the distance in the rain, quivering all over, looking at him. For a moment they did not take their eyes off each other, all around them lightning and thunder making the ground beneath their feet tremble.

"I want to see my sister." He called out to him in a shaky voice, forcing himself to be confident, and he snorted, turning his head away.

He wanted to humiliate him, to press his face to the mud and remind him that he was a fucking bastard, but he hesitated.

He licked his lips at the thought that if he allowed them to meet perhaps she would forgive him, believe that he was not her enemy, that for her he had not carried out his revenge, for her he had not killed, but had brought to her the man he despised so deeply.

His expression of goodwill.

"Fly after me, my Lord Strong, if you dare." He sneered and moved towards Vhagar, climbing the ropes to her back, settling into his saddle all wet from the rain to take to the skies with her a moment later.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted the figure of a small dragon among the dark clouds; he thought in the back of his mind that his nephew had been a fool, that he had been guided by his emotions rather than reason.

He decided to take him to Vhagar's lair, and then to one of the back entrances to the Red Keep which he used when he wanted no one to notice his disappearance.

After a few hours of travel, he landed on the hill and slid off his dragoness onto the wet grass, watching impatiently as his nephew took his place a piece away, looking at him apprehensively as soon as he jumped down, catching the hilt of his sword. He smirked mischievously at the sight.

"Don't be ridiculous, nephew. Fighting you would be a little challenge. Come." He hissed impatiently, turning and moving ahead, cold and wet just as much as he was.

"How do I know it's not a trap? That she's alive?" He heard his trembling voice behind him, full of fear and uncertainty, from which he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, hoping his niece would appreciate how much he had sacrificed for her, how much he had put himself at risk for her.

"If I wanted to kill you or imprison you, I would, my Lord Strong." He said indifferently, stopping him with a gesture of his hand, seeing the guards walking along the wall above them, looking around; he only moved on when they were out of his sight.

They went inside through a small wooden door covered in ivy, which opened with a loud creak; he looked at him with disapproval, his eyes large, his face pale, he breathed loudly through his mouth, knowing he was a fool.

That if he took him hostage their mother's hands would be tied, deprived of her two children and two dragons she would have to bend the knee.

He contemplated whether to do so, whether it would perhaps end the whole war, but he decided that this one, and only one time, he would do something not for himself, not for his family, but for her.

Proof of how deep was his affection towards her.

"Wait here and be quiet." He growled and moved ahead leaving him behind, passing into the pits beneath the Red Keep itself.

He climbed the cramped side servants' staircase to the corridor into which her chamber was located and came upon the surprised guards, who awoke upon hearing his footsteps and stood at attention.

"Bring me my dry garments and inform the servants that I will take a bath." He said lowly, one of them nodded and immediately moved ahead, intending to obey his order, but the other remained in his place, looking at him uncertainly.

"Has she eaten anything today?" He asked him, and he shook his head, swallowing loudly, terrified apparently that he would blame him for such a state of affairs.

"Inform the cook to prepare some warm soup for her."

"Now, Your Grace? It's the middle of the night…"

"He is to prepare her fucking warm soup, I said." He hissed, the man nodded and also disappeared after a moment around a corner.

He walked into her chamber, and she pulled up in bed with a scream – he saw that her face was red with tears and he felt a squeeze in his throat that perhaps it was because of his letter, that perhaps she still loved him.

However, there was no time to think about that.

"− uncle? − what are you − stop −" She cried out horrified, not understanding what was happening, what he wanted to do, when he took a plain grey hooded coat, pulled her violently by her arm and forced her to stand up, putting it over her shoulders and head.

"− no −" She mumbled, but he pulled her forcibly out of her chamber; after what had happened to her she was still weakened and her resistance was having no effect.

"− I don't want to − you won't make me − I'm going to scream −"

"Be fucking quiet. Don't you want to see your little brother? Hm? I thought so." He growled, gripping his fingers tighter on her arm and heard her quiet squeal of discomfort, however, no more words left her lips.

They walked down the same path he had entered, walking for a while in complete darkness – he knew she had walked barefoot, that she was cold and uncomfortable, but they had no time.

They had to get back before the guards informed anyone that she was not in her chamber.

He let her go as they stepped out into the narrow corridor at the end of which Luke was standing, heard her draw in a loud breath and stop in mid-step, not believing what she was seeing.

They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe it was really happening, completely shocked.

"Luke!" She cried out and ran towards him pulling the hood off her head – they threw themselves into each other's arms, both bursting into sobs like little children.

He stared at them impassively thinking about giving them a few minutes and then bringing her back and taking her in her bed, his cock swollen and hard, he hadn't experienced relief in days.

"A-are you all right? Did they hurt you? Why do you have a bruise under your eye? What is it?" He asked in a trembling voice taking her wrists in his hands, noticing the freshly healed cuts on them.

Luke looked at him accusingly, but she shook her head, grasping his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, smiling broadly, happy and full of energy, as if awakened from a deep sleep.

"No, it was an accident. Nothing serious." She lied, and he lowered his gaze at the thought that he hadn't spoken a word to Criston Cole since that day, since he found out what he'd done, and the only reason he was still alive was because his mother had begged him to show mercy.

"Please, Aemond." His mother mumbled in a trembling, terrified voice, holding his shoulders, seeing his cold, angry gaze directed at her sworn protector.

"I'm not going to ask a third time, Cole. Did you hit her?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling that the bones in his jaw were about to burst with rage, his hands closed into tight fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly in uneven, ragged breaths.

Ser Criston lowered his gaze and swallowed loudly, standing with his hands folded behind him, clearly embarrassed.

"Yes, my Prince. I admit with shame that I lost my temper. I called her an undignified name and slapped her." He mumbled, not daring to look at him; he felt his lips part in a wicked grin that had nothing to do with contentment.

"Did you do it before or after you made her drink moon tea?" He asked in a mocking, matter-of-fact, sharp tone, and saw the glances that Cole and his mother exchanged, horrified that she had already told him everything.

"− Aemond, she cannot carry your child if she is to marry −"

The Queen began but her voice stuck in her throat when he locked her cheeks between his fingers in sudden, violent gesture, digging his fingertips into her skin, Criston Cole twitched not knowing what to do, her pupils dilated in shock and fear.

"I was the one who wanted her to run away with me. For her to give herself to me. I promised her I would marry her. And I fucking meant it!" He growled like an animal and shook her head as if he wanted her to finally realize what he was saying, felt tears of helplessness under his eyelids as he looked at his mother in despair, her gaze changed, she drew in air loudly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"My Prince, for gods sake, it is your mother!" Exclaimed Criston Cole, and he let her go, panting hard; the Queen took a few steps back, breathing heavily, looking at him in disbelief and pain, holding her hand on her chest, trembling all over.

She did not recognise him.

"Return with me to Dragonstone." He heard Luke's quiet mumble and furrowed his brows, returning with his mind to them; he felt his heart begin to pound like mad, terrified that she would try to run away with him, his hand slipped involuntarily to the dagger fastened to his belt.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that he should have followed his instincts from the very beginning and just kill him.

"N-no. No." She said horrified, seeing in his gaze what he was thinking about, what he was prepared to do; she stroked her little brother's shoulders with hands trembling with fear, smiling again, wanting to comfort him.

"But you go. Tell my mother that I am faithful to her and that I love her very much. Can you do that for me?" She asked softly, her voice breaking as she spoke her last words.

"I won't leave you here. I will never…"

"You will leave. I'm begging you, go now." She muttered, releasing him, but his hands refused to let her go.

"Please."

"I can't, you have to understand me −"

"Time's up." He heard his own low, cold voice, saw her terrified look – she nodded quickly, wanting to be obedient and gentle, wanting him to remain calm, not to do anything under sudden rage.

"Go, Luke." She said.

"I'll set you free, I swear." He mumbled and let go of her hand, escaping at last, disappearing into the rain.

They both let out a loud, terrified breath and looked at each other uncertainly, his hand letting go of the hilt of his dagger. He felt some kind of deep, wonderful relief.

She stayed of her own free will.

He licked his lower lip in satisfaction at the thought that she herself didn't know what she thought of it all, her cheeks red from emotion and tears.

"How did you find him?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, as if she didn't know what she could expect from him. He hummed under his breath at her question, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

"He came to Storm's End as an envoy." He explained matter-of-factly, approaching her slowly with his heart pounding faster and faster, feeling like his cock was about to explode if he didn't finally touch her.

She swallowed hard at his words, lifting her gaze full of pain and regret to him, her eyebrows arched in a clear sense of helplessness; he thought with delight that he was not indifferent to her.

"Have you made your choice?" She asked quietly, and he smirked, feeling that somehow he had regained his advantage over her, that she was jealous of him.

"Yes."

"Then I'm afraid you can no longer sleep in my chamber. It would not be appropriate." She said softly, not taking her eyes off him, and he felt his heart stop, his lips tighten into a thin line.

"After what I did for you? What I risked for you? This is how you thank me?" He growled, stepping closer to her, feeling burning rage and disappointment that she didn't throw herself happily around his neck, that what he'd done wasn't enough. She furrowed her brow, looking at him with fear and disbelief.

"I'm grateful to you, gods, I really am, but if you think I'm going to be your whore, you're wrong." She mumbled with pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, his body trembling with disappointment and rage.

"I don't want you to be my whore. I want you to be my wife." He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping his dagger, which he took out in a swift, sure movement. She squealed as he gripped her cheeks violently in his hand, her fingers tightened on his wrist trying fruitlessly to free her from his grasp, her eyes opened wide with terror as he pressed his blade against her lower lip.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, I said." He growled when she cried out loudly and clenched her eyes shut as he slashed her delicate skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the red wound.

He passed his dagger into her hand, clenching it in her palm; he looked at her pleadingly, sliding his fingers into her hair, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture of desperation.

"− I can't take it anymore − we both know it was always going to end like this −" He muttered stroking her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her shoulders with his hands, feeling that he was in some kind of frenzy.

"− kill me or marry me −" He said in a trembling voice; she drew in the air loudly, her gaze hot, helpless, terrified, full of pain, resentment, desire, regret, anger, exhaustion.

He looked straight into her eyes as her trembling hand lifted his blade, first stopping on the line of his neck, then grasped his cheek in her fingers – a low, surprised groan of delight broke from his throat as he felt the cold, astringent taste of steel on his lips, then the burning pain of sliced skin.

He looked at her dreamily, feeling that what she had done had aroused him even more, that he was about to throw himself at her and rip off everything she was wearing.

He watched her face as he took his dagger in his fingers and with a sure, shallow movement slit the skin of the inside of her hand. She hissed quietly, clenching her lips in discomfort, tears of horror, emotion, sadness and relief running down her cheeks.

He breathed loudly when he observed her as she did the same, creating a burning wound on his hand from which his warm, sticky blood dripped.

He clasped their bleeding palms together, holding the dagger beneath them onto which drop by drop flowed their mingled blood.

There was something at once frightening and divine about the sight, as if in a mysterious and only known to them way the gods of their ancestors had bound them together for eternity.

He lifted the blade up and licked it with a gasp of contentment as he gazed at her face; he hummed with delight as he felt that forbidden, tart taste.

He repeated the act and this time he held the blade to her lips; he felt his cock throb in pleasure in his breeches as her glistening, pink tongue ran over the bloody steel before his eyes.

He released the dagger from his hand and clung to her with his lips, both of them moaning loudly in pain, discomfort and pleasure, not caring about their wounds, realising that this was what their love had been.

Something so painfully fulfilling.

As much as he craved it, as much as he wanted to spend hours with his face between her thighs, he needed to feel her first, her hands helping him quickly unfasten the clasps of his coat and tunic. He untied the material of his breeches and tilted it aside, releasing what was beneath them, his manhood painfully hard and swollen, its tip wet with his own moisture.

He pulled her nightgown up over her thighs and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her, her legs immediately closing around his waist, her hands entwined in his hair and pressed his face against her puffy, sweet mouth.

He groaned low into her throat, meeting the tip of his tongue against hers, licking her and sucking her lips; they both clamped their hands tightly on their bodies as the fat head of his cock began to push against her leaking folds from below.

"− let me in − let me in, sweet wife −" He muttered between the loud dance of their tongues, teeth and saliva. She squirmed loudly as he slowly slid into her with a sigh of pleasure, her insides and thighs wet with her moisture, making him open her wide with one sure thrust of his hips.

"− Aemond −" She cried out sweetly as he began to root into her with thirsty, desperate thrusts, their whole bodies twitching and vibrating, her hands roaming over his cheeks, hair, neck and back, her throbbing, hot, weeping cunt clenching around him and sucking him inside, refusing to let him go, forcing him to pound into her with more brutality.

"− fucking mine −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on her soft flesh, leaving a trail of blood on her skin and nightgown, slamming into her violently with his cock, thick and swollen with almost painful arousal.

He was panting loudly along with her, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to his peak, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with a shameless splat of her moisture, her scent, her closeness, her whimpers filled his entire mind, leaving only bliss.

"− g-gods, uncle −" She mewled, tilting her head back, moaning like a whore and yet like a saint, sweet and loud, as if she was surprised at how quickly and suddenly fulfilment shook her body.

He felt her juices running down his thighs, soaking his cock; he sighed with some kind of relief when he finally let go, filling her to the brim with his warm seed, her walls squeezing him greedily.

"− fuck-fuck-fucckkk −" He gasped clenching his teeth, stunned by the pleasure and fulfilment that enveloped his body, his muscles suddenly soft, his body numb.

He fell to his knees with her and heard her squeal in terror, her legs and hands embracing him tightly; he rooted into her for a moment longer with sloppy, slow thrusts of his hips, wanting to savour the fact that he felt her again.

That she was his wife.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

The Man 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man...

You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today.

You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he?

You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow.

You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot.

When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes.

You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully.

Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse.

☕

You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple.

You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view.

The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything.

You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang.

You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out.

You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her.

“I think there’s a mistake,” you say.

She grunts and stares back at you.

“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.”

“Lease violation,” she shrugs.

“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?”

“Read the letter,” she sniffs.

You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that?

“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--”

“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face.

What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory.

You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all.

The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right.

You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies.

You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out.

Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff.

You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.

You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.

You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens.

‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’

Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now.

A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #the gray man #the man

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pynkgothicka · 8 months ago

Text

ＫｉｌｌＦｏｒＹｏｕｒＬｏｖｅＭＹＧ

Synopsis- Yoongi tried his hardest to keep his crime life away from you, but some people really test him.

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Mobster! Yoongi x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - No one!

Word Count - Around 1k

Tags and Warnings - Death, Murder, Fluff, Slight Gaslighting

Authors Note - Just something small I was working on. I believe I want to do more one offs since I’m offically done with school for the summer.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Staring at your reflection in the mirror you could only feel some sense of remorse. Mourning for the old person you were before you met him. Now you wore light makeup and put on dresses that hugged your body.

You would have never seen yourself looking like this if not for him.

The vanity was littered with photos he took of you and ones you took of him alike. He consumed your every waking thought and every hour. Even finding yourself trying to keep busy instead of sadly waiting for him to get home.

However today he wanted you with him. It was rare that you were allowed to go with him when he talked business. To be honest it just felt good being able to be with him and not just within his home.

You smiled at yourself before getting up and heading downstairs to see your boyfriend looking at his phone, a focused look on his face. “You look so hot like that.” You say walking past him and into the kitchen. You grabbed a box of cereal and poured it into a bowl.

Yoongi snickered looking at you. “Mhmm, and I love it when you get dressed up for me,” he says resting his hands on your hips as you pour milk into your cereal. You could feel your face heat up before his head rested on the small of your neck. He kissed it, taking in a deep shiff of your natural smell. “I love it when you wear this scent.”

“Aw stop it, you know I do it for you Yoongs.” You say turning to the side to place a small peck on his lips.

🚬

With his hand on your thigh and your head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but be more bored with the droning talk of deals and territories. You popped on and off your phone case, as Yoongis's voice rumbled in your ears.

“Yoongi, m’ ready to go…” You mumble, head-turning into his chest. Your boyfriend lets out a sigh before leaning over to kiss the crown of your head.

“Just a few more moments alright, then we can do whatever you want sweetheart,” Yoongi promised into your hair. You could tell the man he was talking to was becoming more agitated by your presence.

The man groans, Yoongi lifts his head to look at the man, his face is stern. “Are we gonna do business or not? I don't see why your girl has to be here.” The man complained. Yoongis eyebrow twitched at that. “She's being a fucking distraction, and I came to talk business. Are we doing the drop or what?”

You were slightly offended by the man's comments. You liked being around Yoongi, and he liked having you around for once. You didn't see why he had to be so negative.

Yoongi leans forward resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at the man. “You don't have enough respect for her, so you don't respect me, or my fucking business. So don't come at me talking about business.” Yoongi retorted raising his voice at the man. You were grateful for a man who would defend your honor.

“Dude you're all up in he-”

“Apologize.”

“What?”

Yoongi grabs your chin making you look at the man. You groan at the feeling, cheeks pressed in by his fingers. “Apologize to her,” Yoongi said, face showing little to no expression. You could see in his other hand, his gun rested casually. Thumb brushed against the barrel, an engraving of your name in gold. He got it done for your two-month anniversary. “Or you could get your brains blown out. I don’t care for either option.”

The man quickly begins to speak. “I'm sorry, Ma'am I'm very sorry.” Yoongi turns to look at you.

“And what do you say?”

“T-Thank yo-” But you cut off with a loud bang. And then your own loud scream.

🚬

Yoongi had planned a dinner later on in the car. Mainly as an apology for killing the man in front of you. Especially after he realized how shocked you were looking at the body afterward. You’d never been that close to that side of his life anymore.

You leaned on the island watching as he moved. His hand moved the wooden spoon gracefully as he sauteed the beef tips and potatoes. Your stomach groaned at the smell, however, his cooking always smelled this good.

“Yoongi, can I at least taste the seasoning you used?” You plead, doing your best puppy dog eyes for him. He only let out a chuckle, passing you a small bowl of beef tips with potatoes. You took a fork and began to eat, humming at the flavor. “You’re always such an amazing cook. Thank you… I know I usually cook but I appreciate the break baby.”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything tonight. I want you to rest your nerves and chill out. It's the least I can do as an apology.” He says setting aside the finished entree. He turned to look at you, a genuine expression on his face. “I promised to not kill anyone in front of you when I first got you, and I broke that agreement over my anger.”

You practically swooned over that. He was so sweet in his own twisted way.

“I appreciate that so much. Maybe I should let you kill someone in front of me more often” Yoongi chuckled at that and nodded smiling at you.

“Nope, don't test it, baby.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33

#dark writing #tw dark content #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #tw gaslighting #yandere bts #yandere myg #min yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #dark bts #dark min yoongi #yandere yoongi #Spotify

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yoonkinii · 23 days ago

Text

Echos of Desire

Pairing(s): Choso Kamo x Reader

FantasyAU!, Guardian!Choso, Royalty!Reader

Part 1

Synopsis: Choso is one of the few to possess abilities that transcend human limits. His family was taken away from him and he was given to serve the king. He was trained in nothing else but to kill and follow orders. He was a man made weapon. His name whispered in fear- the kingdom's boogeyman. He hates it though. Hates how his freedom was ripped from his hands. Hates how his ‘gift’ is more like a curse. He is offered a deal he can’t deny- transport the princess to safety in a neighboring kingdom. The only problem is, she’s the daughter of the man that took everything from him and she is being hunted down by unknown forces.

Warning(s): character death, self loathe, burning alive, mentions of abuse, mention of death, blood. (if I am missing any. Please let me know)

Note(s): as I deal with college finals, I have not been able to write for my Sukuna AU. I felt bad and had the first part sitting in my files so I chose to share it. You will notice that in this story, there are mentions of abilities and skills that are in JJK but are changed to suit the story plot.

No one talks about how the stench of burning flesh can be so unnervingly similar to roasted meat. The thought alone churns Choso’s stomach as his face is ground into the dirt, his tear-blurred eyes forced open to witness his home devoured by flames. Every crackling ember, every surge of heat feels like an accusation. He doesn’t look away though, though the sight tears at his soul. He deserves this torment- it’s his fault.

He should have fled the moment the cursed mark marred his face, carving a jagged path across the bridge of his nose and spreading like a sinister brand. They warned him to leave, told him what would happen, but he stayed. Why? Because he was selfish. Because he clung to a fragile hope, a desperate dream that he could stay with his mother and brother a little longer.

Now their screams haunt him, slicing through the crackling fire. The agony in their voices etches itself into his very being, a scar that will never heal. His fault. All his fault.

The grip on his head tightens, rough fingers yanking his hair until he’s forced to look up. Through the haze of pain and tears, Choso meets the gaze of the man who orchestrated his ruin, the king’s general, Lu.

Lu is a vision of ruthless efficiency, his reputation as blood-soaked as the battlefield itself. His silver eyes, cold and unnatural, pierce through Choso like a blade. His grizzled features speak of age, but nothing about him suggests weakness. Even the streaks of gray in his slicked -back hair only add to the aura of relenting brutality. The deadliest man in the realm, staring down at him like a predator savoring its prey.

Choso meets the general’s eyes, unable to stop his quivering lips and the sobs that shakes his shoulders. The general tuts his lips, suddenly releasing Choso. Choso falls limply into the dirt, curling in on himself as he cries and cries. He cries until it hurts, until the general says something to another and walks away, until he dry heaves out cries, until the flames die down and all that remains is the ash in the air.

Choso’s lips tremble as sobs wrack his body. He can’t stop them, no matter how much he wishes to. The general clicks his tongue in disdain before abruptly letting go, letting Choso crumple to the ground like a discarded rag.

Curled into himself, Choso cries until his chest burns, until his voice is reduced to raw, aching gasps. He cries as the general mutters orders to someone unseen and strides away, as the inferno that consumed his life finally dies down, leaving nothing but as and ruin in its wake.

“Come on, kid.”

The voice, female and startling gentle, cuts through the oppressive silence. Choso’s bloodshot eyes flutter open, squirting against the harsh brilliance of the rising sun.

Before him stood a woman whose weather face seemed to carry the weight of a thousand stores. Her sharp brown eyes, set beneath furrowed brows, scrutinized Choso with an intensity that made him feel as if she could see through to his very soul. Her tan skin, toughened by years of hardship and streaked with crisscrossing scars on her face and knuckles, was framed by well-worn leather armor. Her dark, untamed hair was tied back at the nape of her neck, though rebellious strands curled free, softening her otherwise severe appearance.

“You’ve cried enough. It won’t bring them back. All you can do now is move forward,” she said, her voice roughened by years of barking commands and enduring countless battles. It carried a measured tone, steady as a ship braving stormy seas. Though she appeared to be the same age as his mother, her demeanor was anything but nurturing - her presence was as unyielding as iron.

“Follow.”

She didn’t glance back to see if he obeyed, confident that he would. Her boots crunched against the dirt path as she strode toward the dense forest ahead. The sound of Choso stumbling to his feet confirmed her certainty. Without protest, he trailed behind, his tattered clothing clinging to his thin frame, his bare feet scraping against the rough ground - another mark of this abrupt, harrowing awakening that murdered his family.

For a while, the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant melody of early morning birds. Then Choso broke the silence, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

“Who are you? Where are we going?

She didn’t pause or turn, but her keen ears caught the words. “My friends call me Shara, but you will call me ‘ma’am’. We’re going to a palace that will shape you into what you were meant to become.”

Her answered stirred unease in Choso, but he hesitated to press further. Something about her presence made him reluctant to question her. Still, curiosity gnawed at him, and after a few moments, he couldn’t stop the strained words from slipping out.

“What am I?”

His voice trembled, raw from the grief and cries that had hollowed him out.

Shara finally glanced over her shoulder, her scarred face unreadable. “A weapon.”

“Are you listening, Kid?”

“I’m always listening ma’am,” Choso replied, his voice steady but low.

Shara scoffed, leaning back into the creaking wooden seat of the carriage. Choso shifted uncomfortably. It was his first time riding in one, and the enclosed space made him uneasy. He couldn’t keep an eye on his surroundings or listen for the out-of-place sounds that might signal danger.

“Sure you are,” Shara mused, her tone laced with skepticism. She was more than just his mentor - she was the one who had taken him in after the fire razed his life to ash when he was ten. Albeit, she was most likely instructed to take him in. Thirteen years had passed since then, but the scars of that night still clung to him like a second skin. They didn’t fade; they lingered, shadowing him in waking hours and haunting him in dreams.

Most nights, he woke drenched in sweat, the bitter taste of ask still fresh on his tongue. On the nights he didn’t sleep, he trained relentlessly - pushing his body to exhaustion, carving discipline into his muscles until it became second nature. Until it felt as permanent as the sins etched onto his soul.

“Repeat what I just said,” Shara commanded, her arms crossed tightly against her chest.

Choso tore his gaze from the window and met her unyielding stare. She hadn’t changed much over the years. Her gaze was as sharp as the day he’d first seen her, her voice as firm and unwavering. The only visible differences were the silver streaks threading through her dark hair and the faint lines creasing her weathered face.

“I am to escort the princess to the kingdom of Vatish via a route prepared by the king’s advisors,” Choso recited with precision. “Upon delivering her safely, my services to the crown will be terminated - permanently.”

“You understand what that means?” Shara’s eyes narrowed, her finger tapping rhythmically against her bicep as she studied him.

“It means after this, I’ll no longer be bound to the crown,” he replied, his voice calm but weighted with finality.

She hummed softly, a sound of approval as she nodded. “Do you accept?”

“Did I ever have a choice?”

“Good.”

The carriage fell into silence once more. Choso turned his attention back to the window, watching the tree blur past in a haze of green and brown. He supposed he should relax, maybe even enjoy the ride - but he couldn’t, years of relentless training had hardened him beyond comfort. His body, forged into a weapon, was always tense, always braced for battle. Relaxation was a luxury he no longer remembered how to afford.

“Didn’t I tell you to cut your hair?” Shara’s voice sliced through the quiet like a blade.

“I did,” he replied, not bothering to look away from the passing landscape.

“Oh, really? What’d you cut it with? Your teeth? It’s still long?”

Absentmindedly, Choso’s fingers drifted to his hair. The black locks fell to his nape, and a few rebellious strands often slipped into his vision. He couldn’t deny it got in the way sometimes, but the thought of cutting it shorter rarely crossed his mind.

“It grew,” he muttered.

Shara’s laughter rolled through the carriage, deep and loud, like a crash of distant thunder. When it subsided, she let out a sigh and leaned slightly to peer out the same window as Choso.

“You’re lucky the king is merciful enough not to kill you for looking like some wild animal.”

“Truly merciful,” Choso replied without thinking, his tone dripping with sarcasm. A scornful look twisted his face as the words left his lips.

The carriage slowed to a halt before a sweeping staircase of polished stone, flanked by guards who stood like statues, their gazes as sharp as their weapons. Choso felt the weight of their eyes, trained and unyielding, tracking his every move as he stepped out. His black fighting leathers, thick enough to ward off the biting wind yet supple enough not to hinder his movement, creaked softled with the effort. It was a rare sight to see him in anything else, even during the fleeting moments when he attempted to sleep.

The hair on Choso's neck stood on end at the eyes trailing after him. One glance casted at Shara showed that she was not bothered by the eyes, if she was then she didn’t show. Shara and Choso were met with a castle attendant, a wordless exchange happening between his mentor and the attendant before they were led through the castle.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled under the scrutiny. A quick glance at Shara revealed her usual calm demeanor, unshaken by the piercing stares. If she felt the tension, she gave no indication. Without a word, a castle attendant approached, exchanging a subtle nod with Shara before motioning for them to follow.

As they were led into the castle, Choso’s gaze flitted restlessly. He cataloged everything - the twists and turns of the corridors, the placement of each window, the number of doors lining the walls. Years ago, such a task would have overwhelmed him, but not it was instinctual, each detail committed to memory with ease.

The castle’s interior was stark yet imposing. Ornate stone walls rose on either side, their austerity broken only by the blood-red carpets that stretched across the floor. THe absence of frivolous decor gave the space an air of cold efficiency, every inch designed to intimidate rather than comfort.

Ahead, two massive, intricately carved wooden doors creaked open by guards, revealing the castle’s main hall. Choso’s footsteps echoed faintly against the flagstone floor as his eyes took in the towering stone walls, adorned with heavy tapestries. Each one depicted the kingdom’s bloody history - scenes of conquest, kneeling enemies, and wars won through sheer brutality. He looked away, the oppressive imagery stirring unease in his chest.

The soaring ceiling drew his gaze upward, a masterpiece of vaulted arches painted with frescoes. Even here, the scenes spoke of violence: victorious kings, battlefields littered with the fallen, and rivers of crimson streaking the skies. Shafts of golden light poured in through high, arched windows, softening the grim narrative etched into the hall.

At the far end, a dais of white marble steps elevated the throne - a striking symbol of the kingdom’s might. Forged of deep mahogany, the throne’s high back was carved with the kingdom’s crests, its armrest shaped into snarling lions frozen mid-roar. The maroon velvet cushioning glinted faintly in the light, as though even the throne itself basked in authority.

A crimson carpet with golden thread stretched the length of the hall, guiding the eye to the footsteps of the foot of the throne. Guards stood rigid along the walls, their halberds gripped so tightly their knuckles shone white. The air was thick with tension, a palpable miz of nerves and uncertainty as Shara and Choso took their place before the throne.

The heavy silence deepened as another set of guards entered the room. Unlike those stationed along the walls, these men moved with a hardened precision that sent a chill through Choso’s veins. Their faces, lined and unyielding, spoke of brutal training and unrelenting discipline. THey took their places, three on either side of the throne, their presence amplifying the oppressive atmosphere.

Choso’s stomach churned as he watched the man he despised most stride into the room.

As the king entered, a profound silence blanketed the room. The air grew heavy, suffused with the weight of authority and history, as though the stones themselves acknowledge his power. Each of his measured steps reverberated through the vast chamber, a reminder of dominance etched into every corner. Ascending the dais with unhurried grace, the king seated himself on the throne, and the room seemed to collectively hold its breath, awaiting his command.

But it was not the king who spoke first.

Shara, ever swift, dropped to one knee, her movement fluid and precise. Choso followed a heartbeat later, lowering his head as her voice rang out with unwavering conviction.

“All praise the mighty sun of the kingdom.”

The guards responded in perfect synchronization, slamming the butts of their halberds against the marble floor. The sharp, rhythmic sound echoed twice, its force reverberating through Choso’s chest. They froze in that posture, returning to their statue-like stance.

Each passing second gnawed at Choso, his chest tightening with suppressed annoyance. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply, Shara’s lessons repeating like a mantra in his mind: Diminish it. Emotions are humanity’s worst weakness. You do not feel. You are not human.

He wasn’t human- not anymore. He was a tool, forged for the kingdom’s will, his humanity burned away alongside his home, his family, and his hope.

“You may rise,” the king’s voice finally broke the silence, deep, and commanding.

Choso and Shara stood, Shara’s posture unwavering, while Choso’s eyes shifted to the man seated on the throne. His lips pressed into a thin line as he studied the king. The monarch’s lips curved into a knowing smile, faint wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, a picture of composed authority.

“It’s good to see you, Shara. You’ve been away for quite some time,” the king said, his tone smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of power.

Shara inclined her head, her voice noticeably softer than the one she reserved for her scolding of Choso. “Indeed, my king. Training your soldiers is no small task.”

Soldiers. The word grated against Choso’s nerves, though he willed himself to remain motionless. Not people, not citizens - just soldiers. Children torn from their families, molded into weapons through the harsh hands of death and submission. His jaw tightened, but his gaze remained fixed on the wall behind the king, a single act of restraint in a room heavy with unspoken tension.

Then, something white caught his attention.

Standing beside the king was a figure, still as stone but coiled like a predator ready to strike. Arms rested at his sides, but his posture betrayed his readiness. What struck Choso most were the bandages covering the man’s eyes, pristine and stark against his skin. Choso felt his brow furrow, confusion threading through his thoughts. Why was he blindfolded? How could a man seemingly devoid of sight carry such as air of awareness?

The figure’s lips curved into a smirk, almost as if he could sense - no, see - Choso’s inquisitive gaze. Embarrassed by his own curiosity. Choso quickly averted his eyes, fixing them once more on the wall, though the image of the smirking man lingered in his mind.

The king hums at Shara’s response, a casual nod indicating her answer sufficed - for now. Choso’s stomach tightened as the monarch’s sharp gaze shifted to him, scrutinizing every inch as though peeling back his lawyers for weakness or deceit. A single wave of the king’s hand broke the tension.

“This is him? Your best soldier?”

“Yes, my king,” Shara replied confidently, her hand settling on Choso’s shoulder like a claim of ownership. “His drive is unmatched. His skills surpass even my most seasoned warriors.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, probing Choso for signs of falsehood in Shara’s words. The room hung in silence until a faint smile tugged at the corner of the king’s mouth, more a predator’s curl than an expression of approval.

“That so?” he drawled. “Do tell - what is his gift?”

Choso exchanged a brief glance with Shara. Her silent nod was the only encouragement he needed before she stepped back, relinquishing the stage. Without a word, Choso moved with practiced ease, his hand darting to his forearm to unsheathe a dagger hidden within his leather sleeve.

The blade was slender, unassuming, crafted for precision rather than carnage. Its edge glinted under the light as Choso drew it across his palm. A sharp sting bloomed, but he didn’t flinch. The first dorp of crimson appeared, and with it, a subtle shift began.

The mark on his face - a single line running across the bridge of his nose - morphed, elongating and multiplying. Two lines extended from his brows, curving down to the corners of his mouth, their pointed tips adding an air of menace. The original line grew thinner and sharper, dividing his features like an ominous sigil.

All eyes in the room fixed on the blood pooling in his palm. Yet, before it could drip to the floor, it stopped, hovering midair as if caught by invisible threads. With a flick of his wrist, the liquid twisted and contorted, bubbling before stretching into a blade of solid crimson.

The weapon shifted again, reshaping into a halberd, its deadly edges gleaming. The halberd dissolved, reforming as an arrow, then fractured into countless droplets that spiraled upwards like a violent rainstorm suspended in time. The blood hovered, then shifted once more, transforming into countless razor-sharp needles.

Without hesitation, Choso releases them.

The room tensed as the needles descended, slicing through the air with lethal precision - only to dissipate a hair’s breadth from the onlookers. The blood lost its form, splattering harmlessly onto the marble floor in crimson pools. Despite the harmless finale, unease rippled through the guards. They shifted on their feet, knuckles whitening in their weapons.

The king leaned forward slightly, his grin widening. He regarded Choso as though he were a rare and fascinating beast, the amusement in his expression tainted by something darker. Choso finally met the gaze of the man who had unraveled his life, and for a fleeting moment during his display, he considered letting the blades find their mark. Just for a moment.

But that feeling passed, and the blood was reduced to harmless stains on the polished floor.

From the corner of his eye, Choso caught the smirk of the white-haired figure standing near the throne. Though his eyes were obscured by pristine bandages, the man’s grin felt as though it pierced directly through Choso’s defenses. Choso forced himself to look away, his gaze landing on Shara.

Her expression was not one of pride in him, but her creation - a jewel she had honed, shaped, and perfected.

“My, my,” the king mused, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He clapped slowly, the sound echoing mockingly in the chamber. “Where has someone like you been hiding all this time? And how considerate of you not to paint the room red - it would’ve been…unfortunate for you.”

The threat was as clear as the gleam in his cold eyes. Choso stiffened but said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line as the king’s attention shifted back to Shara, who now stood proudly at his side, her posture rigid and expectant.

“He’s perfect.”

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cherriegyuu · 1 year ago

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memories of us | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader - soulmate!au summary: every night seokmin dreams of his past lifes, when he met and fell for his soulmate countless times. genre: fluff, angst word count: 11.9k warnings: reader has really low self esteem a/n: this is not, in any way, connected to elevator. both stories are centered around soulmates, however the rules are different. in elevator people carry marks that vanish from their bodies once they meet their soulmate, here is the bond is created by eye contact. i hope you enjoy it :)

Today, when I woke up, the first thing I thought about was you, but that’s not something new. You’re always the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last one before I go to sleep. My mind is consumed by thoughts of you the entire day. There’s not a single minute when you don’t make your presence noticed, even if you’re not really here by my side. The funny thing is that I haven’t met you yet and somehow you are the only one in my mind.

I started to dream of you when I was sixteen. At the time I had no idea of what was going on, I didn’t know what Memorous were, and I couldn’t even phantom why I was dreaming of an older version of myself. I was young and the naive teenager version of me thought that it was something everyone goes through. Ah, maybe these are memories from my past lives. I was right about that part, but I didn’t know the length of what was going on with me.

It was only a month later when I told anyone about it. Because those dreams were something no one ever mentioned around me before, so I was afraid to speak about them. What if, because of those dreams, people started to label me as a freak? I had already a very negative reputation, so to say, I didn’t want to make it worse. When I finally mustered the courage to talk to someone about it, I figured that I should tell my mom about it. She was a mother, my mom, and like all moms she would probably know what to do.

She didn’t.

For a while, she just sat there and stared at me, not like I was a freak but as if I had become a stranger. I was no longer Lee Seokmin, her eldest son who on most days seemed like the youngest. I saw her eyes change that day, from a mother who loved her son to a woman who didn’t know who the boy in front of her was.

It was also the first time that someone told me that I was cursed.

None of us could be sure whether I was cursed or not, but she said it with so much belief that I knew that it had to be true.

I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. Before my mother said those words to me, those words that would be forever stuck in my brain, you are cursed, Seokmin, and there’s nothing any of us can do to change that, I used to be normal - or as normal as a sixteen-year-old hyperactive boy could be. But the second those words were uttered, released into the world, something inside me changed.

I think that the best way to describe it would be a click, I felt a click inside my heart. There’s no other word I could use to describe it.

After everything that happened in the span of minutes, I changed. I started to be more restricted, no one else in the world knew about the dreams or about me being a Memorous. My circle of friends got smaller and smaller. What if, by accident, I told one of them something about the dreams, about you? That couldn’t happen.

In reality, I didn’t have many friends. You know, the kind you tell secrets to and are really close to. Those were the kinds of people that I wanted to avoid at all costs. I wasn’t a loner, though. I had people I could hang out with, people that I would go to a bar or a club with, but I liked to be alone.

It’s weird, isn’t it? I had friends but I wasn’t actually friends with any of them. I wasn’t a loner but the thing I enjoyed the most was being alone.

When I turned eighteen and high school was finally over, I moved away from home. For two years I saved every cent that I could, my main goal was to just leave. I studied my eyes off in school so I could get into a university that was as far away as possible from home. I needed to get a scholarship so I wouldn’t need to ask for help from my parents.

Doing those two things made me feel somewhat proud of myself. It was like I was telling them see just because you think I’m cursed doesn’t mean that I can’t do what I want.

Let me explain to you how the dreams work: every night I dream of you, no exception but every night is a different life.

This is how Memorous must live. I remember every single thing about our past lives, all the details that people usually forget about their lives. I remember them, more or less. I know what you were wearing on April 18th, 1811; I know what was the first word you said to me in Madrid, it was a curse by the way; the first time we bonded.

Sometimes it feels so real that I think if I look by my side, I’ll see you there. That couldn’t be true, I haven’t seen you in this lifetime - I would never be able to let you go if I had.

There’s a trick about being a Memorous though. Once I fall asleep and dream of a different life everything I dreamed the night before vanishes and I can’t remember anything. At first, I thought that it happened like that because sometimes we forget about the dreams we have. It was as if it simply vanished from my mind, and I could only remember it when I dreamt of the same life again. It’s like a selective memory kind of thing.

You know, the feeling of a dream being so real that you could either wake up in panic or just really happy and satisfied?

For me, every dream was like that. If I held your hand in my dream, when I woke up I would still get the feel of your skin against mine; if we fought for whatever reason I would still feel the sadness and the anger lingering in my body.

When I understood what was happening, I started to write down the dreams, every little detail that I could remember. Slowly I started to find a pattern in the dreams, slowly I learned to tell the lives apart and so I started notebooks. It’s a little weird, I know, but I had to keep track of our lives. Maybe, at some level, you might think that I’m crazy or that I’m a stalker. But could it be considered stalking when it’s my own life?

I can’t wait to meet you. Although I haven’t actually met you or even seen you this time around, I feel like I have known you all my life. Is this the feeling we’ll get when we finally meet, this feeling of fullness?

I wonder if you feel that too.

Out of all our lives together I have a favorite one. I mean, it is expected, isn’t it? After such a long time of living countless lives, every day being a different person - although I’m ultimately the same - we are bound to have a favorite one.

If I do say so myself that life is very much Shakespearean. Okay, so imagine this: two families who were very powerful but were opposites and hated each other with a burning passion. And there you have it. Sounds very much like Romeo and Juliet, doesn’t it? Maybe if it happened a couple hundred years earlier, in England, then maybe I could say that we actually inspired him, but we happened far too late.

You know, I still remember the first time I saw you that time around. I think that maybe that bond was the strongest one we’ve had, probably because we were supposed to hate each other. The idea of an unexpected bond between two opposite families is kind of thrilling, isn’t it?

We met at a party. Because our families couldn’t even stand to be in the same space together, mostly our dads - why is it always the dads though? -, they send you and me to represent the families. As you can probably imagine, we had no idea of what the other person looked like.

So, there I was walking inside this immense ballroom, and you were the first person I saw. Looking at you I just knew that you were out of place, that kind of environment wasn’t one you felt comfortable in. At that point, you weren’t looking at me but when you finally did, it was like the entire world stopped. I felt my heart thump inside my chest, but I could feel you too. I saw as you went wide-eyed. You took a step closer to me but then, realizing what you did, you took a couple of steps back. For the entire night, we didn’t approach each other but my eyes never left yours, as yours never left mine.

We followed each other through the night. I got angry, really angry, when someone wanted to talk to me because all I wanted to do was look at you. Whenever my feelings changed, I would feel yours changing too. You felt mostly curiosity. How could this man, someone you had never seen before, catch your attention in such a way that you couldn’t look at anything or anyone else?

Back then it wasn’t like today, you know. The bond happened more quietly, or maybe we only thought it did. Though the bond is something that has been around since the beginning of time, we only found out about it much later in life. I suppose that back then we still didn’t know much about it. Maybe the change everyone felt around a couple that was bonding was there but because we didn’t know what it was supposed to be we just overlooked it.

Back to the story.

You were the first one to make a move to leave but I couldn’t let you go, no way. I followed you out and much to my own surprise you were waiting for me, because somehow you knew that I had to go after you. We didn’t say much, just promised to meet each other a couple of days later.

From that moment on, things took off, or as much as you could possibly expect from a couple in the early nineteen century. We would always meet each other. Everything was exciting because no one could know about what we were doing. Besides the whole ‘my family hates yours’ problem that we had, there was also the problem that both of us were promised to other people. You were supposed to marry a young Duque and I had to marry the daughter of a rich family. If we were against it before, imagine what it was like after we found out about how we felt for each other.

Our happiness didn’t last very long. We were careless and, although we were trying to hide it, we weren’t as stealthy about it as we liked to imagine.

It’s needless to say that when our families found out they were far from happy. They didn’t try to kill us or anything that dramatic, but they started to rush things. Your marriage that was supposed to happen only a year later was set to two weeks later; mine was happening in a few days. Of course, neither of us accepted that.

On the night before my wedding, I felt something trying to pull me. It was like my legs were moving on their own and I saw myself walking out of the house and into the city. I found you there, all alone in the middle of the street, staring at the church I was supposed to get married in. I realized then that the sadness I felt was only partially mine, a lot of it was coming from you. I didn’t really understand how it was possible for me to feel everything that you were feeling but I knew that there wasn’t another explanation for it.

You couldn’t control your emotions and tears were running down your cheeks, you tried hard to push them aside, but it was of no use. The more you tried to make the tears stop the more they fell. I couldn’t control myself by then. You were afraid when my arm went around you but once you knew that it was me you turned in my arms. The tears that ran down your face were no longer out of pain and hurt, they were because we were finally reunited.

We ran away. We didn’t take anything with us. There was no time to go home and get clothes, or say goodbye. We were sure that if we were together then everything would be alright. Because we had each other nothing in the world nothing could hurt us.

That's… that’s as far as the dreams go. I’d like to think that we had a happy ending.

Two years into college I finally understood what my mom meant when she said that I am cursed.

You see, the dreams I have at night are just fragments, tiny little pieces of an entire puzzle. I could only see a day or a week, at most. But the thing is that I only saw us young, meeting, starting the bond, falling in love. Not once did my dreams show us a little older, getting married, having kids, or even if things didn’t work between us. I never dreamed of those things.

At first, my guess was that the dreams were trying to show me a way to get to you, find you in a world that’s filled with billions of people. That wasn’t the case.

One night I dreamed of you dying. I woke up in despair. Instead of the sweet dreams, filled with warm touches and whispered words, I faced images of you surrounded by blood, a lifeless body in my arms.

For a while I wanted to make myself believe that it was just a nightmare, that it would eventually go away but I knew it wasn’t that simple, nothing ever is.

I kept seeing the same thing for days and every day it got worse and worse. It got to the point where I stopped sleeping at all. Every time I closed my eyes I could see your body on the ground, eyes wide open. I knew that it wasn’t true, but I felt like you were looking at me, like you blamed me for your death.

I searched it up. If the same thing happened to other Memorous I wanted to know how to make it stop, if I could even do something like that. From task number one I had problems.

For one, Memorous doesn’t like to be clear about it, we are heavily judged by it because no one understands what it is like to be one. Most people just think that we are making a fuss over nothing, that knowing what your soulmate looks like, what that person likes and dislikes makes it much easier to find the person you are supposed to bond with. What they don’t know is that, like everyone else in the world, people’s taste, personalities and all else changes. In one of your lives, you were a dancer, the stage was your home, and being watched by people was something you thrived off of but in the next one you were a shy girl who couldn’t bear the thought of people looking at her (this actually happened, just so you know).

Second, there aren’t many Memorous in the world. We are considered an anomaly, there are very few of us. I believe that we will only be able to understand why we are born this way when a scientist is born as a Memorous.

But not everything is a lost hope! God bless the people who aren’t scared to share their stories because they want to help other people. I found this post, on a very weird and hard to find website, saying that there is a way to break this ‘curse’. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s not up to us to end the cycle. Well, technically it is but it’s not a choice that we can make. It’s confusing, I know.

Apparently, the only way for us to stay together for a long time is if both of us are born Memorous, meaning that you and I must know our past lives. The one who wrote the post was a young boy, claiming that it was his grandparents’ story and that both of them were still alive and fine.

It’s not much but at least it’s something. I can’t help but wonder if this time around you already know who I am.

I saw you today, or at the very least I thought that I did. I looked at my right and you were right there! Your eyes went anywhere but me, it was like you were purposely trying to avoid me. I went after you, called after you (even though I don’t know what you’re called in this life). It seemed that you were running away from me, though I’m sure that wasn’t the case. How could you run from someone you don’t know?

On days like this, I think I’m starting to lose my mind. The dreams are starting to feel more real than ever, and I don’t know what to do. Is it because we are getting closer to each other? Maybe we are in the same city? I hope so.

I’ve hoping for something, just a tiny signal, for the longest time. Was today it? I think about seeing you, how the dreams are now just a repeat of all the first meetings before, how every day when I wake up I have a feeling inside my heart telling me that we are getting closer to each other.

Are we? Does this mean that we are getting closer?

Maybe this is the universe’s way of letting us know. Because our lives, all of them, have been so messed up that this is fate’s way of apologizing for all the crap that it put us through.

I’m going to find you soon. Hopefully, wherever you are you’re also looking for me and that will probably make our lives that much easier.

You closed the journal and put it aside. You managed to hold yourself back while reading, you didn’t want the tears in the back of your eyes to fall on the pages, the precious pages that told your story through Seokmin’s eyes.

It had been hard to come to terms with the idea, the fact, that he was your soulmate but over the years you became more and more used to it. Your lives were too different, your backgrounds complete opposites, and yet - somehow - you were it for each other.

The first time you saw him on TV, you clearly remembered how you felt. It was as if someone had just punched you in the chest. On the other side of the tiny screen was the boy - now the man - you had been dreaming about for years of your life. You never thought that you would find him, especially so soon but then again if you thought about all your dreams, both of you seemed young - maybe even younger than your 25 years.

You stayed away from the TV for about a month after that, but you knew that it wouldn’t last much longer than that. The entire time Seokmin was in the back of your mind, always making sure that you wouldn’t forget him. That was simply something that would never happen, you forgetting about him - even if that was one of the many things that you wanted to do. Eventually, you found yourself turning the TV on again, watching every single program, every video, and buying any magazine that featured him.

Thinking back at it, you felt sort of stupid for doing those things and not just trying to look for him. You were right, your soulmate was Seokmin but your own insecurities were holding you back. Out of everything you had, there was one problem you considered to be major: you had nothing to offer him.

You were the kid no one wanted, the kid that had been tossed into an orphanage at the age of eight, and no one had gone back to take claim. Like a monkey on a tree, you moved from house to house without a chance of staying, even the prospect of making friends didn’t exist.

Growing up you always dreamed of meeting your soulmate, imagined the way you would finally meet the other person. In your mind you were always the hotshot, someone who could make anything happen with a simple word. As you got older you wanted to just live a decent life but all you had was a shitty rented apartment in a sketchy area of the city, a shower that didn’t run with hot water, and were living paycheck by paycheck.

That wasn’t the life you wanted, it was a life that you were almost embarrassed over. How could you ever share a life with someone when you could hardly sustain yourself? That wasn’t possible.

But then it happened. You got dragged by your friend to go to the TV station and watched as Seokmin recorded a program. Jun said that he wouldn’t notice you, that you would sit far in the back, and you could put your bangs down and cover your eyes so there wouldn’t be a single chance of the bond happening.

It was a lie, you knew that. Jun lied straight to your face, and you let yourself fall for it. You couldn’t say no to him, much less to his kids. Hana was so excited about it. Watching Seokmin on TV was her favorite thing in the world, more than dancing or watching cartoons. He’s pretty and funny, my soulmate has to be just like him, she said. It was funny and endearing to watch. Sometimes you just wanted to meet Seokmin because of her, because she was so in love with him. The day you decided to take a step forward was also the day you took eleven steps back.

“Are excited?” Jun bumped his shoulder into yours and smiled.

He could be the kind of person your silly heart would fall for if there weren’t any soulmates. Jun was essentially a good person, with a heart made of gold and filled with so much love that his kids would never go a day in life thinking that he didn’t love them.

“No" yet another lie.

You were excited, a little too excited. Or maybe your excitement was actually just fear. Fear that the bond might happen, fear that Seokmin would be disappointed in who you were, fear that maybe your dreams would come true.

“You said that Seokmin is pretty” Hana called out.

A moment of weakness that you regretted.

“Handsome, honey. Boys are handsome”

She repeated the word a few times as if trying to memorize but everyone knew that she would just keep calling boys pretty.

“Why are you carrying her around like she’s three?”

Hana sighed and hugged Jun’s neck, her head on his shoulder.

“I’m daddy’s little girl”

Jun looked like he was about to cry and Hanbin just groaned, his sister’s act wasn’t something that he was too fond of. You could only smile at them. They were almost too cute for you to handle.

You were one of the first people to get in so there were still a lot of empty spots to choose from. The second you and Jun started to move towards the back Hanbin and Hana protested. Of course, they didn’t want to sit in the back. Besides being kids, and too short to be able to see anything, both liked Seokmin so being too far away was not something that they wanted. In the end, you caved. You couldn’t say no to two kids who were doing the puppy eyes at the same time.

As minutes went by and the studio got filled with people you started to get nervous. You ran your sweaty hands on your jeans trying to get them dry, but it was useless. Every person who walked inside made your heart skip a beat because you thought that it could be him. It never was. The scared part of your brain told you that it was a good thing, that maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, but the other part, the one that wanted to see him in person just once, told you to just wait a little longer because he was going to show.

You waited, for over an hour and there was no sign of him. You knew that in this kind of event it could take them a while to get everything sorted but you were told that it shouldn’t take long once you all went inside.

“Stop,” Jun said, his hand on your arm “Don’t overthink it"

He was smiling at you kindly. It was the kind of smile that was supposed to calm you down and reassure you and yet all it did was make you even more nervous.

“What if we bond?”

“Then you’ll deal with it later”

What if I don’t know how to deal with it?

When people started to scream you looked up and saw the host walking in. He talked for a couple of minutes, made a few jokes trying to be funny and then he introduced Lee Seokmin, a TV personality. The crowd went crazy, there was a girl behind you screaming so loud that you thought you’d go deft.

Seokmin walked in, his characteristic smile in place, as he waved at the audience.

Seeing him in person made the world slow down, even your own heart. Instead of going crazy, your heart nearly stopped, as the sight of Seokmin put you at ease. Your hands were no longer shaking, you didn’t feel like trying to hide yourself anymore. In fact, seeing him made your soul scream at you it’s him, what are you waiting for? Your soul was begging you to go to him. After all, it knew him, because despite being apart for years it recognized him immediately.

And then Seokmin looked at you.

His eyes were on yours as he stood frozen there. You could feel him everywhere. He was shocked, surprised, caught off guard, hopeful, and just so happy. His happiness was contagious because inside you felt happy too. You wanted to stand up and hug him, stay as close as possible to him. The fear you felt for years was momentarily forgotten in the back of your mind.

Your legs moved before you could even realize what you were doing. You stood up and walked to him, stopping only a couple of steps away from him. You felt his heartbeat like it was just under your skin. Being so close to him made your body tingle in the best way possible. Your entire being was begging you to just take another step, just one closer to him, just so you could touch him and feel him all around you.

When Seokmin moved forward, his hand raised ready to touch you - just like you wanted to do - you took a step back. Suddenly the realization of what could happen came crashing down around you. Your dreams, and images of Seokmin lying lifeless on the floor that had been engraved in your mind were unexpectedly in your eyes. You could see it coming, your downfall, and the things you dreaded the most, happening.

“I…”

Seokmin wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to. What words could he possibly profess that would make the fear running through your body go away?

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this"

Turning around and walking away from him might have been the hardest thing you ever did.

You tried your best to keep living normally but it was close to impossible. Every second that went by you were reminded of Seokmin, of the broken look on his face when you walked away, of the way he felt like he had somehow done something wrong. And he felt unloved when it was supposed to be just the other way around. Even before the bond, before you had the chance to look at him in the eyes, you already had feelings for him. Perhaps it was because you knew that you were supposed to love him, you knew that once you met him your feelings would be unstoppable, or it was just because he was charming.

And just how charming he was.

You didn’t know one single person who disliked him, someone who would flat-out say that there was nothing good to like about him. Everyone loved Seokmin, his easy smile and friendly eyes pulled everyone in.

“Until when are you going to keep avoiding him?”

Jun had become the personification of what was happening inside of you. You wanted to meet Seokmin, desperately. You wanted to find out where he was and just go to him, introduce yourself, and just talk to him. Everything seemed so simple inside your mind, and in Jun’s as well, but it was so far from it.

“You’re just avoiding it, you know that”

“So, what if I am? I’m sorry if I don’t want to see my soulmate die!”

You weren’t angry at your friend or even Seokmin, as he would feel sometimes. You were just angry at everyone else, at the world, at destiny, at anyone in the world who decided that it was a good idea to make you see your soulmate die every night.

“I know that, but wouldn’t it be better if you could spend some time with him? Let’s say that you’ll have six months together, that’s it. No more and no less. Don’t you want to be with him for as long as you possibly can instead of keep hiding in here?” Jun moved his hand showing the lounge of his dance school “Think of all your past lives, about how happy you were because you were with Seokmin. In this life too, shouldn’t you be able to feel that kind of happiness?”

Jun was the only person who knew that you were Memorous and he was also the only person who would say that there was nothing wrong with it. You aren’t cursed. If you ask me, you are one of the lucky ones. I would anything to have more memories with Seol. He was also the kind of friend who wasn’t scared to say that you were messing up your own life, that you were doing something wrong. Most days he would act like the dad you never had. You were grateful for him, for having someone so eager to make sure that you were happy.

“Here’s a wild scenario” Jun smiled at Hana, who was running to him, as he stood up “Seokmin doesn’t die"

His words left you speechless as you watched him move away from you.

When you got home that day Seokmin’s journals were waiting at your doorstep.

Reading Seokmin’s words was much like reading your own. Since you started to have dreams, you thought that you were the only one who felt like that, like the only one who didn’t have anyone else to run to. Yes, both of your lives were very different, the place both of you came from was also different. But looking at it or wasn’t all that different.

His words and the way he described his feelings for you were the things that made you take a deep breath and go meet him.

I know that you are scared, I can feel it but please reconsider it. I’ve been waiting for a moment like this for a very long time and I would like to believe that you have too. I’ll be in the city for a few more days so let’s meet. If you don’t come to me, I will go to you. We can’t run away from this.

Seokmin.

Somehow you found yourself getting out of your tiny apartment and going towards Seokmin. You knew just how much he could feel your nervousness and yet he tried to stay calm so you could feel at ease too. The entire time, since you left the TV station, you could feel him in your mind and it was like he was talking to you, trying to convince you to meet or just to be comfortable with the idea of him.

At times you could swear that he was talking to you, his voice clear in your mind. It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. It was like Seokmin himself could read your thoughts. Of course, there were moments when he would feel that spark of fear, and anxiety but most of the time he was in complete control of his emotions. He was doing that for you, there was no mistake, so you felt childish for being all over the place and guilty for bombarding him with emotions that you couldn’t fully grasp.

That was one of the many reasons why you decided to go to him. His words had been the main reason, but you also wanted to put your heart in peace. From the second you walked away from him your heart had been heavy. It was the kind of emotion that was impossible to verbalize, the only word that could possibly come to mind was lost. Your heart was lost. You walked around feeling like there was a huge part of you missing, your eyes looked for something, someone, that was never there.

It was like that until you got his journals. Although you didn’t feel whole you could feel that a little piece of you was back. Perhaps it truly wasn’t a part of you, instead what could be the missing was a piece of you never found before.

The missing piece had always been Seokmin.

You stopped in front of his door, your hand closed into a fist just an inch away.

The truth was that everything you felt, every tiny thing, could be summed into just one word: fear. You were scared.

For years you saw Seokmin die in your dreams, he died in a new way every night. You saw, more times than you could count, the life left his eyes as he took his last breath. Sometimes you would just hear about it from someone, just words thrown into a conversation – words that always managed to break your heart. It never mattered how you found out, it always happened suddenly and unexpectedly.

Whenever you and he were settling into a life together, when you allowed yourself to love each other freely, it happened. You always thought that your love for him, as his for you, worked like a time bomb. And the moment the bond was made was when your time started to run out.

The only thing you thought about was how if you never made the bond then Seokmin would be able to live a long and happy life. It was okay if once, just once, you didn’t find your soulmate. As long as Seokmin got to live, you were fine with whatever life threw at you. Many people went through life without ever finding their soulmates but that didn’t mean that they weren’t happy. It just meant that they had to find other ways to be happy.

“Just, please, knock on the door”

You turned around, startled by the sudden presence behind you, a voice that you had memorized a long time before meeting the person to whom it belonged. Seokmin was there, looking at you like he had just walked out of some kind of sappy movie with his hair a mess and a hoodie that was at least three sizes bigger than him.

“How long have you been there?”

He smiled at you then making you feel like your insides were melting. Seeing him was like making the bond all over again. Your hands were sweating, your heartbeat out of control, slow, fast, and slow. The air around you was heavy and the tension between the two of you was almost palpable, like a thin sheet separating you and him.

“Long enough to know that you’ve been hesitating, for at least, five minutes”

How was it possible for him to be so calm when you felt like your heart was about to combust? Having him so close to you made your entire body shake. You almost wanted to take a step back before you fell to your knees. It was like your legs were barely there to support you.

“I want to say so many things but I’m afraid that if I do, you’ll run away again”

You shook your head at him. This time around you weren’t leaving or running. You had made it this far, there was no way you were backing down. Somehow, seeing Seokmin in front of you made you feel stronger like you could fight the entire universe just because he was right there by your side. He wasn’t doing anything, but he looked at you like you were everything that he had been waiting for and then some more.

“I came so that we could talk” you tried to smile in reassurance, for him or yourself you weren’t sure “Do you want to do this here or somewhere else…?”

“I think that it would be best if we had some privacy”

You took a step aside to let Seokmin open the door to his hotel room.

You had always been scared of people, not of what they could do to you in the spot but of what they could cause in the long run. From a young age, you learned that you were alone and that the people around you never really wanted you there. For the foster homes you went through most of your life, you were just a way to get easy money; for your first boyfriend you were just a pity bet; for your high school friends you were just the girl they let hang out with them in exchange for assignments; for your parents, you were just someone, something, that they could easily toss aside when they finally got bored.

All of those things left deep scars on you. Though you did your best to cover them, they were always there right under the surface. You always smiled at people and made sure to tell them that you were perfectly fine even though you weren’t, even though all you wanted was to curl into yourself and let yourself feel all that pain.

Jun had been the first person to get through to you, the only one who had stayed long enough for you to think that maybe he was around you because he actually liked you and not because he wanted something from you in return.

It was true that Seokmin was your soulmate, that once the bond is made someone can never really walk away from it. You knew all of those things, like a book that you were constantly reading. Knowing something is completely different than doing it. The insecurities, always in the back of your mind, screamed at you louder than any belief or hope. Your brain always told you that someone like Seokmin, someone who had everything – and anyone – he could possibly want, would never stay for someone like you, bond or no bond.

“Do you want something to drink? I can get you anything you want”

Seokmin opened the door for you and pointed at the couch in front of it. As you had expected his room wasn’t just room, it was like a goddamn apartment – hell it was bigger than half of the houses you went through as a teenager.

“I… it’s fine. I’m fine”

Seokmin knew that you weren’t fine but chose to stay quiet about it, he knew that it wasn’t a good idea to tell you just how much of you he could understand. It wasn’t only because he could feel every tiny thing coming from you but also because you were like an open book, filled with words begging to be read.

“I got your journals,” you said “I also read them”

Your words made Seokmin sigh in relief. He thought that if you saw his journals, and read his feelings, you would be able to understand how desperate he felt, how much his feelings had been all over the place – despite him trying to remain calm. His feelings mirrored yours very much, almost in every way.

“Because you shared yours with me, I think it’s only fair if I do the same with you”

He looked up at you, surprise all over his face as you handed him the small box you had been carrying.

“I’ve dreamed about you, for the past ten years, too. Every night I saw you and fell for you, every version of you”

The surprise Seokmin felt, the happiness, and the relief that ran through his body the moment he saw you at his door was almost completely gone when he heard what you were saying. He wanted to think that maybe he heard it wrong but the look in your eyes assured him that he hadn’t heard it wrong. Your words had been loud and clear, ricocheting inside his brain.

“For how long you have known about me?”

Your heart was breaking, shattering into tiny pieces when you saw and felt the change in Seokmin. He held the box with your journals like it weighed a thousand pounds, his face was contorted with something that you couldn’t decipher but his feelings were clear, like the sky on a starry night. Seokmin felt betrayed, hurt, and unwanted, all things that weren’t true.

“Since you started, around the same time, since I was sixteen as well” you whispered.

Seokmin felt his heart drop all the way down to his toes feeling sick to his stomach. He had always wanted to find you, from the day he understood what his dreams meant he looked for you – everywhere and anywhere in the world. You were the reason why he even started to work in TV, he thought that if he got a job that required him to talk to a lot of people then it would be easier to find you. But the idea, now the fact, that you had always known about him but even then, decided not to look for him, not to take a step away from him, was like a slap to his face.

“Do you know that I tried to look for you everywhere? I nearly went crazy. Every day since my dreams, the memories of us, started I searched for you. While you…” he scoffed like the world had played yet another sick joke on him “You knew who I was but you never…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it; thinking about it – feeling it – was already bad enough. Seokmin didn’t want to voice it, if he did then everything would become that much more real, too real, more heartbreaking than anything else in his life up until that moment.

The dreams crushed his heart every morning when he woke up. Seokmin felt his heart die a little inside his chest for the life he never got to live with you, for the words he never got to hear from you, for seeing the bright light leave your eyes time and time again. But ultimately those dreams were just that: dreams, memories of a different period in time, of a different life that although felt real, it no longer was.

“I was afraid, Seokmin…”

“I know that you were! I felt it, with fiber in my body, I knew that you were scared, terrified that for some reason I wouldn’t love you. I knew all of that like it was my own fear”

The despair he had in his voice was felt in your body, every tiny cell. You hated that he was feeling like that, that your first ever encounter with him – a proper one – was only worth a fight. That was not how you wanted things to go. You thought that if you ever met him things would run smoothly but the reality of it was far from your expectations.

“Like you, I am a Memorous” you had to say it, you needed Seokmin to hear your words just once “The first time I saw you, like you are right now, was on TV but it was so fast that I couldn’t be sure. I was on the bus, passing by a TV store. The next day I stayed in front of the same store the entire day, waiting for that brief second of your face for hours. When I finally saw you I cried, right there in the middle of the sidewalk because I just felt so happy to see you, to finally find the boy that I had seen so many times before, the boy I loved so blindly, even though I have never met before.

“But the dreams… they are alive inside my mind. I don’t forget them like you do. My brain stores them like they are memories of this life, all those feelings were as real as if I lived them this time around. I thought about all the times I saw you die, and I couldn’t live through that again. I couldn’t let that happen to you, not after I saw you. I only knew you from the screen of my tv but my feelings were already so strong. I wanted the bond to happen, you can’t doubt that for a second, but I was scared. I would very much rather live knowing that you were somewhere out there, living a happy and long life than having you live a short one with me”

Your words were more than enough to make Seokmin stop. Until that moment, his mind was flying all over the place but the second you opened your mouth he couldn’t bring himself to be angry anymore. Those feelings, the fear of seeing your other half – the one you were supposed to be with – die, was one he knew very well. He often wondered what would happen when he finally met you.

The first time he saw you, he had been over the moon, he felt you and everything else. He felt the pull and your desire to get closer to him. To say that Seokmin was surprised when you ran away was an understatement. He didn’t truly understand everything that was happening inside of him, the unthinkable mix of you and him made him feel dizzy because he couldn’t set you apart.

He could finally understand the things you did but it didn’t mean that he liked them.

“I think it’s going to be a very long night”

Seokmin read your journals in front of you, and it didn’t feel embarrassing. Those journals, your words, had been written for him and for him only. While you wrote down your dreams you thought of him, of how he would read them one day and how much you wanted him to.

You spent the entire night in his hotel room. You talked for hours and hours and suddenly the subject wasn’t as heavy anymore, both of your fears momentarily forgotten, and you were simply enjoying each other’s company.

Seokmin was everything that he seemed to be, but he was also that much different. His bubbly personality was still there, fully out in the open for everyone to see, but there was also a shy side to him - one that not many people knew about but it was cute to watch. More often than he would like to admit, Seokmin would trip over his words, insecure about what he could and couldn’t say to you. The ice is still very thin, it’s making me nervous he said at some point in the night.

You had scooted closer to him or maybe he got closer to you, how it happened didn’t really matter. You found yourself sitting on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest as Seokmin quietly played with your fingers.

Just having him around you felt like a dream but the moment his skin touched yours? It was like fireworks exploded under your skin, like every single nerve in your body was suddenly awake. You could feel him everywhere, like he was not just the man in front of you, but he was also part of the air, like he could be all around you whilst staying in the exact same spot. He gave you calmness, a sense of peace and security. Things that up until that moment no one had been able to give you, not even yourself.

“I really want to kiss you” you whispered. Seokmin’s fingers stilled in yours and something sparkled in his eyes as he looked at you. The moment was suspended in the air as if it wasn’t neither here or there, as if time itself had stopped and all the attention was now on the two of you and the way you were feeling in that very second.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, you didn’t want to. It was the first time, in your entire life, that you craved someone’s touch and presence. With Seokmin you wanted that and so much more, everything that he had to give, you wanted.

Feeling like that for someone after only knowing them for a couple of hours was impossible, the kind of thing that you would never expect to happen, the kind of thing that you would laugh at because something like that couldn’t exist. But with you and Seokmin, nothing was as it seemed.

It was true that you had only known him for a little while but just in this life. When you looked at him you saw traces of the many different people that he had been in the past and because of that, it was like you fully knew him. That wasn’t the case, and you knew that, but even so, the feeling of reconnection still existed.

Seokmin inched forward, his eyes focused on your lips, as he interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards him. There was one second of hesitation, one tiny second that felt like an eternity before his lips finally pressed on yours and then it was pure magic.

Seokmin had to leave a few days later and you hated the idea of having to see him walk away. It wasn’t final, you knew that, but it hurt all the same. He had stayed in the city for you far longer than he was supposed to, his phone always blowing up with text messages from people concerned about his whereabouts when in reality he had been locked up with you inside your apartment.

On the contrary to what you previously thought, Seokmin didn’t care about your tiny apartment, about the fact that you had been to more foster homes than what you were willing to admit, or about the fact that you didn’t have a degree. I like you for you, not for the baggage that comes with you.

You sat at the airport for hours after his flight departed, the emptiness growing inside of you as the seconds ticked away.

Seokmin felt the same way. He wanted to stay or for you to just go with him, but he didn’t dare to ask. He knew that even though you didn’t think much of your life, you liked it. You loved to be a receptionist at Jun’s school, loved being surrounded by the kids, loved the city you lived in, and you were a little proud of yourself for being your own person and living your own life - even though you would never admit it. He got into the plane with a heavy heart, but he had to figure things out. He had to find a way for the two of you to be together. It was uncertain of what the future held for you. You could be together for just a year before one of you died or your entire life was still ahead of you. The not knowing drove him crazy.

Three weeks apart was all he could take before he found himself boarding a plane to the other side of the country and breaking a few contracts while he did so. You called every day, facetimed whenever there was a chance and texts were always a constant but just that wasn’t enough.

Due to the distance, the constant pull to you only grew stronger and the grasp he had of your feelings, how Seokmin could tell exactly what was going on with you, was slowly disappearing. It wasn’t that you were learning to control what he could and couldn’t see. Once the bond is made the newfound soulmates need to stay close to each other, it’s physically and mentally tiring to be away. He noticed that you sounded more exhausted on the phone, as your eyes nearly closed when you talked on Facetime.

All those things pulled him to you, yes, but Seokmin also wanted to see you desperately.

He didn’t tell you that he was coming to see you, he wanted to make it a surprise. The entire flight he felt just how happy you were, probably because you were at the dance school with the kids, but he also noticed your worry, because he hadn’t answered his phone in a few hours, as you tried to push it as far back in your mind as possible.

The long see-through glass walls of the school allowed Seokmin to see you inside. He heard your laugh before he saw you, the sound had been imprinted in his mind like the type of song that just gets stuck. And then he saw your profile looking at the little boy in front of you lovingly. When you smiled, he thought that his heart would explode inside his chest.

Seeing you, even from far away, was like going home after a long time. The feeling of calmness, the feeling of finally being able to breathe properly. Just looking at you made him lighter in a way that he couldn’t exactly put into words.

The kids were the first ones to see Seokmin. The little boy you talked to gasped, and his eyes went wide. All the other kids had the same reaction, some of them pointed at him while others just went back to what they were doing before.

You stood frozen in place and watched Seokmin walk from where he was to the door. You had to make sure that he was really there, that it wasn’t something that you were imagining. If it wasn’t for the cute selfies he sent you stored in your phone, you would be sure that meeting Seokmin and everything else that happened after had been nothing but a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time you wished for a life that could never have.

You got up and took a step away from the kids before walking as fast as you could - nearly running - towards him. He met you halfway, his arms reached for you before you collapsed into him.

You sighed in contentment and relief when you felt his skin against yours, when his warmth enveloped you. Everything else was forgotten and it no longer mattered.

“You’re really here,” you said against his neck.

His chuckle ran through your entire body and he tightened his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to him.

“Half a country away is too much" he murmured.

You stayed in place for minutes, long enough for one of the kids to get bored and call out your name a couple of times. One of them ran inside and got Jun, because the little boy thought that Seokmin might be holding you for too long.

“This reunion is great and all but it’s weird for the kids”

At the sound of your friend’s voice, you let go of Seokmin but you didn’t go too far. Three weeks had been long enough, you would take whatever few moments with him that you could get before he had to leave again. So you stayed by Seokmin’s side, your fingers interlocked with his.

“Seokmin, this is Jun”

“I was the one who gave him your address, how else do you think he would send you his journals?”

Seokmin looked at you, with surprise in his face. He hadn’t expected you to tell someone about it, about his journals, or about anything at all. From the moment he saw you, and even from the journals you wrote, he knew that you were the kind of person who didn’t tell those around her much about her life so it was a surprise that you had talked about it with someone.

“It’s good to see that things worked out for you,” Jun said, he looked at the watch on his wrist before looking back at you again “Go on, take the rest of the day off”

You shook at head, pointing at the kids behind him - who were already making a fuss all over the place.

“I still have a few more hours to go and you need help with the kids”

Jun just rolled his eyes when he took a few steps closer to you and Seokmin, pretty much pushing out of the door.

“I’ll let you know that there was a time when I managed this place just fine without you”

For the rest of the day, you walked around town with Seokmin. He held your hand the entire time, letting it go just to put his arm around your shoulder, either way, he always had his hands on you. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you liked it a lot. The idea of always being close to him made your heart flutter in impossible ways, made you imagine what life would be like when you finally got to be with him for more than a few hours at a time, it made you wish for a future when you would be able to see him every day and talk to him and just be around him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Seokmin said when you reached your neighborhood.

“That could be dangerous”

During the time you and Seokmin talked on the phone, he told a lot about his childhood and there was one thing that was clear to you: he was an unpredictable kid. His ideas were always crazy and so unnatural for a child. When you were in foster care you thought that the other kids were crazy, but they were just reckless, Seokmin was wild.

“I should have never told you those stories,” he said with a sigh, a tiny smile on his face “I’ve got this job offer, here in the city. It’s not like what I do now but I think that it could be fun and I’ll try to make it work as much as possible. If I do take it, we’ll be closer to each other”

You were shaking your head before he was done speaking. Seokmin changing jobs, and doing something else that was not what he wanted initially was a huge no.

“You’re not moving here”

He sighed again and took your hand in his.

“I know you’re worried about my job, but I only started to do it because I thought that it was the easiest way to find you. I can do something else, anything else, if it means that I can have you”

You turned to look at him, your hand squeezing his. His words assured you, more than anything in the world. Hearing those words was the only thing you needed.

“Remember how I told you that Jun’s soulmate mom is a social worker? She told me that there is this University, not the most prestigious one but a university nonetheless, that is more likely to give out scholarships. A couple of months ago I took the test to get in and I got the results a week ago”

Seokmin nodded at you, not really understanding what you meant. Truth be told, he was a little hurt. The second he mentioned it you were already denying it, like the mere idea of having him close to was repulsive. He knew that couldn’t be the case, knew that those things never reached your heart but even so, the feeling of getting rejected was there.

“I got in. I have to move there in the next few weeks or so, to settle in and find my way around town”

“Where… where is that?”

You laughed and kissed him quickly. He looked way too cute with the confused look on his face.

“I didn’t ask for your address just to have it, Seokmin. I want to be close to you so I was looking for a place near yours but also close enough to the university”

Before you even done speaking Seokmin already had his arms around while he placed quick kisses all over your face, making you laugh.

Moving away was harder than expected. There weren’t many things that tied you to that place, but the few things that did make it heartbreaking.

Just as you predicted, telling Jun was easy. Your friend, like always, had been supportive saying that he had your back in all the choices you’ve made and the choices that you would come to make.

His kids were a completely different story. When you told Hana about it, she started to cry, tears running down her little face and sobs escaping her lips. You knew that it was going to be hard to talk to her, but you didn’t think that it was going to be like that. Hanbin was easier but you knew that he was also feeling it.

“Will you call us every day?”

“I’ll call you every Sunday morning,” you said pinching her cheeks “We all know how much your dad loves Sunday mornings”

Jun groaned but he still had a smile on his face.

“Why do you hate me?”

It broke your heart to leave all three of them, but it was something that you had to do, not only because you wanted to be close to Seokmin but because of yourself. The change was something that you needed to do in order to move your life forward.

Moving day wasn’t as terrible as you expected. Seokmin had helped you move all your stuff, boxing everything to perfection. You didn’t have much you wanted to take with you but even so, everything you owned had been labeled and wrapped.

Somehow Seokmin had managed to convince you to just move in with him. You tried to deny him at first. It didn’t make any sense; you had just started something with him and suddenly you were putting your toothbrushes together. That was way too fast. “We don’t know how much time we have together so why waste it by being apart?” You tried reasoning with him “What if I can’t stand your habits and you hate mine?” To what he just said, “I’ll love all of your nasty habits and I’ll be the perfect prince, so you’ll have nothing to complain about”.

It all ended with a heated make-out session on your couch.

Seokmin was feeling edgy. He was supposed to be home hours ago, he knew that you were worried but restraining yourself from calling him. He loved his job, he really did, and it was amazing that he got to keep it and be with you at the same time, but he hated days like those. He hated the late-night shootings when he had to be away - especially when he could feel how worried you were - and he didn’t even like to think about when he had to do something out of town.

The drive back home felt endless. He broke God knows how many speed limits, and crossed a few red lights. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, he knew that there wasn’t anything wrong going on at home. You would have called him in case something happened, he would have felt something change.

But at times he couldn’t help but feel anxious.

It had been four years. Four years since you found each other, since you started your life together, probably the four happiest years of his. But whenever he wasn’t expecting it, whenever Seokmin started to feel comfortable again with his life and you around him, his dreams would come back to haunt him. Instead of seeing you, in the past, he saw you as you were in this life. He saw the woman he loved, more than any of his dreams could have let him know, die in front of him, in his arms. It was always like that, you had a smile on your face, a tear ran down your cheek and you said that loved him.

On nights like that, he would search for you. His arms moved directly to you and pulled you to him as quiet sobs escaped his lips. You always cried with him on nights like that. You didn’t have those sorts of dreams, but his despair and fear ran through your body as if they were your own.

That night was just like that. The whole day he had a sickening feeling in his stomach. Like the world was telling him that something was bound to happen. The one thing that had somehow calmed him was how at ease you were during most of the way.

Seokmin walked inside a house in darkness, the light in the hallway the only thing that could possibly tell him that there was someone home. You always did that for him when he had one of his late nights.

You were sleeping in the bedroom, so Seokmin tried his best not to make a sound. But he knew that all his efforts were useless when he walked out of the bathroom to find the bedside lamp on and you looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”

You sat up and smiled at him, shaking your head. It was a good thing that he had woken you up. Your sleep wasn’t peaceful, no nightmares or dreams but although you were asleep you still had that weird feeling of being awake while sleeping.

“It’s fine, I actually have to talk to you about something”

Seokmin wouldn’t like what you had to say to him, in fact, you were pretty sure that he would probably hate it.

“I talked to your sister today” the words left your lips in a quiet whisper.

Seokmin stood still, his eyes focused on you, but his mind was somewhere entirely. He finally understood why you had felt so anxious and nervous during lunchtime and why he was feeling on edge the entire day.

“We’re not doing this” he shook his head.

“Seokmin it’s been 12 years, you’re going to have to talk to them at some point”

You reached for his hand at the same that Seokmin scoffed at you.

“You haven’t talked to your parents in 22 years and I don’t push toward them”

Seokmin regretted his words the second he said them. He watched as you tried your best to control your emotions and not let him feel just how hurt you truly felt about his words. You pulled back the hand you reached to Seokmin and tucked it under the blankets.

“I did try to look for them, Seokmin. I found them. It went the same way as it did when I was eight years old. They didn’t want me”

You never told anyone about that, it wasn’t the kind of thing that you liked to talk about. To be honest you didn’t even like to think about it.

A week before you moved in with Seokmin you searched for your parents. With Jun’s help, you managed to find them, quite easily. They still lived in the city, in the same house you lived in for the first eight years of your life. All it really took to get a hold of them was to find the documents they filled when they left you in the foster house. Your meeting with them didn’t last long, less than five minutes and they didn’t even invite you in. All the conversation was done at their doorstep. “We can’t do anything for you, we’re not parent material,” they said to which you answered, “I’m no longer a kid who needs care and protection”.

For them to suddenly find their inner parent wasn’t something that you wanted or expected but you thought that they could, at least, be part of your life but even that they refused. They only showed some kind of interest when you mentioned Seokmin and just by looking at them, you could tell that their interest was more on what Seokmin brought with him than for you.

After that you never mentioned them again, never allowed Jun to talk about it again, not even thinking about them was allowed.

“Just because people bond doesn’t mean they become good people, Seokmin. It just means that there’s someone out there who won’t judge your choices”

“Babe…”

Seokmin crawled on the bed towards you, his arms going around you and tangled his legs with yours.

You stayed quiet for a while, unmoving. That was your favorite place in the world, his arms. Even if you had just some kind of argument with him, even if you were hurt by what the other person said, you never turned your back on each other.

“I’m afraid if I let them in again the same thing will happen. I can’t go through that again”

You turned in his arms, facing him.

“They were probably just afraid Seokmin, the things people say about Memorous aren’t nice. Maybe they were just afraid to lose their son. Your sister did sound really sorry on the phone” you ran your hand on his cheek “You’re thirty years old, the feelings you had at eighteen are not the same and you certainly are not the same person. Maybe we could try talking to them, and if it doesn't work, it doesn’t”

“Thank you for reminding me that I’m old”

You giggled against his chest, which made Seokmin kiss the top of your head.

“You’ll only be old when our kids kids go to college”

Something in Seokmin’s eyes changed, all the anger and laughter from just a second before suddenly disappeared. He rolled on the bed, so he was on top of you.

“Are we talking babies now?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed your way up from his collarbone to his lips.

“You’ve been lacking in that department lately, husband”

He pulled your hands away from his neck and presses it against the mattress.

“I’ll be sure to make it up to you, wife”

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luxheroica · 1 month ago

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under your tree (1/3)

Anyways Ekko/Jinx has made me insane and I'm not stopping. So here have fanfic about Ekko, Jinx, and the tree that I wrote in a fugue state last night. Planned part 1 of 3, the first is alternate-Powder and alternate-Ekko.

Also on AO3

----

She drags him up out of her lab, not entirely sure where to go but too jumbled up to stay. Powder’s heart is racing as she twines her fingers in Ekko’s, and she has never been happier to feel his grip strong and vital in her own. That breathless moment when he wasn't moving when she thought– she had held VI's body in the same way.

“Where are we going?” he asks, bewildered, stumbling along behind her.

“Just come on.”

Her feet know the path and she trusts them. While she does her mind races, all of the strangeness of the past few weeks slotting into place like a puzzle in her mind.

His fear on seeing her, his confusion at Milo and Claggor, the way his whole face changed when he saw Benzo… the way he hadn’t known Vi was dead. She thought he was just messing with her, in a particularly cruel way, or maybe he’d lost his mind after a particularly weird dream.

The way he’d kissed her tonight, like he was so desperate to hold on to her.

Now it all makes sense. Something that she was beginning to suspect but didn’t think was quite possible.

Her feet take her to the tree. Where Ekko painted his portraits of Vi.

Vi who lives. Vi who is from some other place and time entirely.

“What… is this?” Ekko– her Ekko– crosses to the portraits alongside her, wonderment in his eyes. “Is that Vi?”

Powder smiles. “A present,” she says. “From another you.”

Ekko scoffs disbelieving. “Seriously, you can stop messing with me.”

“Did you know that the competition is tomorrow?”

Ekko whirls around. “What? No– it's weeks away!” He waits for the punchline that he knows is coming, and then scratches at his head. “Seriously? What do you mean it’s tomorrow, I thought–”

“You had plenty of time?”

Ekko nods. He swallows and she watches his Adams apple bob, as he takes this in. “Powder, why did I wake up on the floor of your lab?”

“Because an alternate universe version of you took over your body for a few weeks, built a time machine that created a space anomaly, and then went back to his universe.”

She expects him to laugh. She expects him to accuse her of making it up. Even as she says it, it sounds a little crazy.

Ekko flops to the ground. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” she says. She doesn't approach, doesn't touch him. Gives him time to process.

“That is about the wildest shit I've ever heard.”

Powder snorts. “Don't I know it. Imagine three weeks of my boyfriend acting like a lunatic, and I only now figure out why.”

“Imagine losing three weeks of your life to an another version of you!” He scratches at his head in that way he does when he's frustrated. “I can't believe the content is tomorrow and I haven’t prepared anything!”

Powder laughs. The Innovators Competition seems like the least of her concerns right now, but of course for him he was just thinking about it. It consumed his every thought “To be fair, while making his time travel device he maaaaybe finished your battery. It works great, by the way!”

Ekko sits up, offense playing across his face. “He finished my designs??” Then he shakes his head. “Is it weird to be jealous of another version of myself?”

Powder considers. And yeah she's gonna push it because she likes pushing his buttons. “Would now be a bad time to tell you he kissed me?”

Ekko nearly chokes.

“In my defense I thought he was you!”

The fight goes out of Ekko, and he sighs. Lays down in the grass and looks up at the wall where Vi’s eyes from another universe look down on the both of them. “You think she��s alive, in his world?”

Powder nods. She curls herself next to him, intertwining her fingers with his. “Yeah,” she says. “He told me about her, a bit– said it was a dream he had. Said she was the strongest fighter in all Zaun.”

There under that tree she tells him all about the dream the other Ekko told her about, that strange world where Vi lived and was in love with a Piltover heiress of all people and she went by a different name and she and Ekko hadn't really talked in years and Zaun was still just like it used to be and maybe even worse.

“It’s weird,” Ekko says while she talks. He rubs his forehead, his brow creasing in concentration. “It's like I can remember it, a little– while you're talking. Flashes of memory… I don't know if they're real.”

Powder curls their fingers together. “I think alternate universes are uncharted territory for anyone.”

Ekko snorts. “You're telling me.” He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “It’s strange. Everything I'm feeling, it all feels so sad and awful and scary… even if VI's alive so many people were dead, and we hadn't talked in forever…” he trails off, and Powder imagines it– really imagines it– that universe that other-Ekko came from and it makes her sad. “And don't get me wrong, I'm glad he left and I get to be me and not have my life hijacked by some alternate me, but…”

Powder levers herself up. “But?” she prompts.

“But why'd he do it?” He turns to look at her, and there's something anxious in his brown eyes. “I don't know if I could leave to a world where we never talked.”

Powder smiles. Rolls over and kisses the bridge of his nose. They haven't said it yet but she loves him–whichever version. “Because he's you. And because they needed him, the people on the other side.”

Ekko turns this over in his mind. “What was he like, the other me?”

Powder scrunches her nose as she tries to think. “Like you but weird. Like, he was really jumpy at first and then he got all sentimental over weird stuff. But, he was you– just as smart, just as idealistic. Always had his head in the clouds and his nose in an equation.”

Ekko laughs. Flicks her nose. “That doesn't sound like me at all.”

“Oh doesn't it, Mr. Free-Energy-For-All?”

“I still can't believe he finished my designs.”

Powder rolls back laughing, because he sounds so indignant. He continues to glare, annoyed. And then after a minute joins her in laughter.

“I think I saw him for a minute, at the end there.” Powder says once she's caught her breath.

“Oh? What was he, uh…?”

“Really hot,” she says, because she knows it's going to make him jealous but she’s also calling him hot and he can't say anything about it, and it’s such a delicious conundrum. “Kind of rugged, too– big baggy clothes and wearing war paint. Not at all a buttoned up nerd.”

Ekko rolls over, pins her to the ground like she's been goading him to do. “I'll show you buttoned up nerd,” he says, and he kisses her breathless.

And it’s different from the way he kissed her earlier tonight. For one he knows how she likes to be kissed, knows how to tease her. But there's nothing of that delicate way he held her like she was this precious thing that could break, and she wants that intensity again.

They stay like that awhile. Just kissing, just enjoying each other. And they don't think of other worlds where they haven't talked in years and maybe never will again.

At last they stop, because Ekko looks at his watch and says, “Oh shit, I should get you back home!”

Powder tickles his knee with hers, hoping to tempt him into giving in again. “We’ve got time. I said I was going to the dance.”

“It’s almost 2am, I'm pretty sure your dads are gonna kill me.”

Powder snorts disbelieving. “Nah, they wouldn't.”

“No, I know Silco quit being a crime boss but I'm pretty sure he still knows how to hide a body like, super good.”

Powder kisses him again– with a little bit of tongue, for good measure– and then when she's sure he's about to give in she jumps to her feet. Ekko looks at her exasperated but fond. “Alright, genius. Let's get you home– you've got a presentation to give tomorrow.”

Ekko groans.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #timebomb #my writing #feat. background silco/vander #do you think powder brought alt-ekko back to the tree?

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wil-dearest · 1 year ago

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Anonymous asked: ok 🫣🫣 reader reading a * spicy * book and wilbur seeing them…. hehe

Mhm mhm, i see your point. Enjoy

trigger warning: the book you are reading has explicit smut in it and well its a little filthy at the end. but 18+.

brought to you by wil-dearest, may i present absolute horseshit

Kiss the Cook

In your defense, the book had been gifted to you by an older cousin who gave you a sly wink, telling you to enjoy. Your love for reading wasn't private information and had this been any other occasion and not your birthday, you most likely would've never read it. (Somehow, your relatives never get what you like. So they sit on a bookshelf as they collect dust and you sit on the idea of donating them.) And also because your cousin texted you saying the main lead was your type. And so if he was?

Here we are, three months after your birthday and you're sitting on at the dining table, reading. Your boyfriend, Wilbur, had been sweet enough that he wanted to make dinner by himself. And with the free time that's been so generously given, you give the book a shot.

Big mistake, after the first two chapters, it gets steamy.

Her head tipped back, with Jeremy's mouth teasing her skin, every touch and every bite he leaves spins her vision. "You understand now, what you do to me is torture." Even his voice, vibrating against the column of her throat, her mouth parts with a gasp. She does understand now.

She can't focus clearly but with the way his hands burn as they grip her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and his cock bumping against her entrance, it's as if her nerves had been lit on fire. The first push drives her nails into his skin and he smooths her hair down, hardly biting his moans back. "Ever since I met you," he gasps, interrupting himself as his hips twitch, "I couldn't get you out of my head. You consumed my being, every waking second." Maybe it'd been the wine, maybe it'd been the careless flirting because why would it ever be more than flirting remarks, it doesn't matter. All Nikki knows right now is how good it feels with him inside her.

You had to put the book down for a moment and cover your face, giggling a little bit to yourself. What the fuck had that been? You peek through fingers and eye the book, biting down on a bottom lip. You'll continue, you decided. Picking up the book, though, Wilbur came out to greet you, his hair a little run-through, like he was pulling the edges again. "How's the book?" He asks, smiling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. Your eyes closed as you hummed, not at all hiding your blush and your smile.

"It's not what I thought it was going to be." You answer, not at all wanting to admit that you just found out the book you're reading leans more into the erotic genre.

"Different?" He asks, his hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as he kissed your cheek. You nod. "And not a bad different?" He kisses your other cheek, drinking up your soft laughter. "Good, then you know where to find me," he pulls back, smiling at you. His thumb comes up to graze your cheek, where he kissed it. He kisses you one last time before heading back inside the kitchen.

You sigh dreamily, wondering how you ever managed to charm him with your tendencies to be a hermit. It cannot be helped, you'll just have to accept you've accidentally cursed him or something. Moving on from real life romance, you turn your eyes back down to the inconspicuous novel. It couldn't hurt to read a little more.

About thirty minutes later, Wilbur decides he's taken long enough and serves two bowls, taking the steaming meals and finding you so engrossed into the novel, you hadn't even noticed him. Now he's not one to be jealous of a book, but just how good can it be when it wasn't your taste? (Yes, he'd been privy to that lovely rant with relatives and their gifting habits.)

He comes around and he had to double-check his eyes were working before he came to terms with the truth. You've been reading erotica.

He starts to mumble the words, "Nikki sobs as she tries to clenches her thighs," you gasp, your head looks over your shoulder, unable to move too much to avoid hitting his head, "overwhelmed by the constant pleasure. His tongue was simply too much, circling her clit and sucking on it before moving the two fingers inside of her again-" you drop the book, covering his mouth even as he tries to read it still, and you had little doubt you look flustered beyond all reason.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek, turning in your seat as you hid your face in his neck, trying to strangle and simultaneously hug him. His laughter is a deep vibration that tickles you while you held onto him, your own nerves lit on fire as his arms circle around your waist.

"Well I came to tell you dinner was ready," he nods to the steaming bowls and then his teasing eyes turned back to you and you dive your head back into his collarbones, "but you didn't even see me. I could see why now."

"Hush." Your voice comes out muffled and you do nothing to make yourself clearer.

"Dinner could always wait and we can recreate the scene in your book." He says pulling away from you and before you can say anything, he's dropped to his knees, his hair falling into his big eyes that stare into you as he nudges his face between your legs. You could hardly breathe with how he gets so close to your crotch, how his smile widens when he kisses your thigh and grips the other one with his- his fingers and you curse yourself for being so sensitive because all you want to do is moan his name. You cover your mouth even when he licks a stripe down the crotch of your jeans. You feel yourself trembling.

"Actually," he says, getting up a dizzying fashion, "I'll make sure to get dessert after dinner." His smile is downright predatory. How are you supposed to eat after all that?

#spencer writes #wilbur soot smut #gender neutral reader

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Best Kept Secret

chapter fourteen : condemned (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.9k

summary : reader tries to take her mind off of things

warnings, etc. : domestic violence, language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re having trouble sleeping.

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time.

You’re haunted.

Your dreams are plagued by visions of faceless men. They’re fuzzy and vague, all you know is that you’ve been left behind, you just can’t keep up. And in every nightmare the faceless man carries on without you, as if you never meant anything to him at all.

You wake up covered in a thin sheen of sweat, gasping for air, with a dull ache in your chest.

So by the time the sun's up you’re more exhausted than you’d be if you had just stayed up without trying to sleep.

You have to fight to keep your eyes open as Lysa and Elaine carefully dress you, Elaine takes you by the arm and guides you to sit on the bed, crouching down to be eye level with you. Her mouth is moving but you can’t seem to figure out the words until she’s saying your name, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry… what were you saying?” You manage to murmur out between yawns.

“How do you take your caf, my lady?

“Oh… I umm, I don’t know. I’ve never had it.”

Why is she looking at you like that?

“I’ll bring you some options okay?” You can only bring yourself to nod, your thoughts are muddled as she leaves, Lysa silently running a brush through your hair.

What had that look been? It had been sad, but it seemed like more than that.

Pity.

That’s what it had been. Huh. Maybe she had just noticed how tired you were these last few days.

Elaine returns just as Lysa is finishing your hair, she’s got a tray with three mugs on it, all containing liquids of various shades of brown. She hands you the darkest one first, it’s almost black, it smells… strong. You take a small sip and your face scrunches at the bitter taste as you quickly hand it back to her.

“Definitely not that one.” You cough slightly as you reach for the lightest one, a creamy beige, sipping this one carefully, not sure what to expect. You’re pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of this one, nodding as you take several sips. It’s the same color as the gown you’re in today, a light sort of cinnamon color. It makes your skin buzz, your mind still feels tired but at least your body feels awake. You watch curiously as Elaine sets the tray onto the vanity before taking the mug of black caf to the door, opening it slightly, setting it on the floor just outside before shutting it once more.

You continue to slowly drink yours, the girls standing across the room from you whispering to each other with a companionship that fills you with yearning. When you finish the caf you walk to the tray, setting it down, thanking Elaine as you open the door.

And there he is.

Setting an empty mug on the stone window sill across from your door.

And then there is an emotion you aren’t sure you’ve ever felt in your life, at least not like this. It’s an unpleasant feeling and you’re certain you aren’t doing a good job of keeping it off your face as you look at the mug and then at his visor. You desperately wish you could hide behind a helmet so he couldn’t see the wounded look on your face.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion.

And it’s one you have no right to feel for two very obvious reasons. One being that Elaine has done nothing to earn the resentment you feel bubbling up inside of you. She has been nothing but kind to you, she takes care of you, she has been a consistent source of comfort to you just by being in your presence. So why do you suddenly feel like she’s your adversary?

The second reason is plain and simple. You have no claim over the Mandalorian. No right to be bitter over him accepting a drink from someone who wasn’t you.

You need to stop. You can’t be thinking things like this, it isn’t healthy. So you summon Leo with a call of his name as you glare at Mando with a faint look of betrayal. He’s there quickly, giving you a low bow.

“How may I be of service, princess?”

“Can you find me a few empty journals? And some more pens, just bring them to the library if it isn’t a hassle.” It isn’t a hassle, nothing is ever a hassle when it comes to you and it’s getting infuriating. Only one person ever said no to you and you never thought you’d miss it.

Leo gives you a nod and vanishes as you storm off to the library.

For Makers sake, stop throwing a tantrum. He isn’t yours to feel envy over.

You get to the library in record time, pinching your eyes shut as you walk past the nook, deeper into the library to the table from yesterday, still covered in parchment. You shuffle them all into one pile and set them aside before beginning your search for books with pictures. You decide on A Field Guide to the Creatures of Tatooine and The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Fish & Shellfish of Naboo.

The Mandalorian still isn’t speaking to you.

At all.

Sure he’s always been quiet, (except when he’s fucking you senseless, then he can’t seem to shut up.) but this is different. It’s intentional silence, and it hurts.

So you pretend he’s just muted himself through the helmet, that he’s talking to you and doesn’t even realize you can’t hear him.

It doesn’t really help.

Leo is as quick as ever to bring you your items, two leatherbound sketchbooks and a handful of pens.

You immediately get to work, desperate to get thoughts of the Mandalorian out of your mind as you draw as many animals and fish as you can until you have to take a break because your wrist hurts. It’s a messy jumble of inky fish swimming around the pages and a lot of them were drawn so hastily you can barely tell what they are. But you stopped thinking about him, briefly.

And this works for a few hours. But then it stops working when you flip to a page with koi fish that has you furrowing your brow. You swear you’ve seen them before and before you can stop yourself from making the connection you realize that they’re the same fish that swim in the lake near the garden. The lake that he lives next to. The lake that he took you to.

And drawing in the library to distract yourself becomes a short lived success. So you decide to pack up your supplies and explore. It’s been a long time since you felt the urge to do so, giving you déjà vu to your first couple of weeks here. Maybe you could pretend you’re back in those days, when you could still be optimistic about your marriage, and the Mandalorian was nothing more than an annoyance. You walk the halls until you stop in front of a set of large ornate doors, you aren’t even sure what’s inside but you sit on the floor, your skirt falling in a circle around you, with your torso in the center as you open one of the sketchbooks. You draw the woodgrain of the doorframe. You leave an absence of ink on the brass door knob to show the light reflecting off of it. And you’re about to draw the stone walls around it but you freeze in place as you hear the familiar crackling static of a modulator.

It’s barely audible, most people wouldn’t ever notice it. But not you. You notice things, especially when they have to do with him.

You don’t dare move. Holding your breath in anticipation until it stops.

You resist the urge to turn around to look at him, hoping that if you don’t pressure him he might speak but it never comes.

He was going to speak.

That’s a start.

Do you want him to speak? Don’t you hate him? Do you even know anymore?

You’ve been so busy trying to not think about him that now you don’t know how you feel about him. That should be a sign for you to say something, or at the very least allow yourself to think about him.

But instead you stumble to your feet and start walking. And you keep drawing to distract you from the living armor that follows behind you silently. You lean against a wall as you draw the stone archway above a staircase, and once again, just as you're finishing up you hear that crackle, just behind you.

This time you can’t help but cock your head to the side slightly, the moment you do you’re back in silence.

Kriff.

This carries on like clockwork through the rest of your day. You draw as many doorways and windows as you can, if you were tired when you started the day you have no idea what you are now. You’re loopy with exhaustion as you stumble to your chambers.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe you’re just sick of hearing that crackle but when you open the door you lean against the frame and stare at him. You don’t say anything but you give him the chance to if he wants, you wait several moments, just glaring at him.

He doesn’t speak. So you close the door. You don’t even make it to the closet, not bothering to remove your gown you collapse onto your actual bed.

✩

You get a few hours of sleep in this time. It isn’t much because you’re still chasing after faceless men but it’s better than nothing. This time when you wake you stumble to the vanity, the bags under your eyes are dark and they make you look too serious.

It’s clockwork again, You’re back in purgatory. Without Mando planning things for you to look forward to you’re trapped in the loop you hated so much when you first arrived.

Wake up, be dressed like some sort of doll, find an aimless task to keep your brain occupied, sleep, repeat.

Except today isn’t another day in the loop, because when the girls arrive Elaine already has a mug of caf in her hands for you and Lysa is getting a blue dress from the closet and you have to physically restrain yourself from groaning as you realize you have dinner with Kodo tonight.

Everything is blending together. Days seem shorter and you feel like you spend all your time trying to get to sleep.

Is this the rest of your life? Days so unremarkable you can’t remember them?

You gratefully take the cup and drink it down quickly as they dress you. At least you have something to worry about other than the Mandalorian today. You can worry about your revolting husband who was more than frightening last time you had spoken.

You push those thoughts away the same way you push thoughts of the Mandalorian away. When the girls are finished you thank them both before grabbing the sketch book and pens. You leave at the same time as Elaine and Lysa and you catch Elaine glaring at Mando, she gives him a look of rage and then raises her eyebrows expectantly at him before taking Lysa’s arm and walking off.

You didn’t even know Elaine was capable of anger, she was always so reserved and put together.

Maybe he did the same thing he did to you to her.

The thought makes your stomach ache.

You decide it’s best not to dwell on it further as you begin to walk. He follows behind you like always, just a few steps back. You don’t bother going to the library today, you don’t want to copy pictures anymore. Today you’re going to draw from memory. It takes about half an hour but eventually you find a window with a wide enough sill that you can sit in it, pulling your legs up as well so you can balance the sketchbook against your thighs. The Mandalorian settles against the opposite wall.

As of today it’s been a week since you last heard his voice.

Don’t.

Don’t think about him. Just draw.

You draw Elaine.

You draw the short horns that come up from the top of her head in cone shapes. The long head tails that fell down her shoulders, you’d never seen a Togruta with them as long as hers. You lightly shade in the red parts of her skin, leaving the white spots on her face empty of any ink.

You try to draw her with the expression she had made earlier.

You can’t seem to get it right. Your depictions never seem angry enough.

You draw Lysa.

Her big round eyes, her olive skin, and her short black hair. You draw her next to Elaine. It feels weird to separate them.

You draw Leo.

His head tails are significantly shorter than Elaines and he usually wears a beige cap over them.

You draw him exactly as he always is.

Stern looking and uptight.

You wish you had asked for paints so you could color his skin orange.

Before you know it you’re flipping to a new page and drawing someone unfamiliar.

Your eyes glance up for just a moment to look at him. There hasn’t been any static today.

You draw a sharp jawline, covered with stubble.

You draw round, plush lips, open just enough to see his front teeth.

You draw furrowed brows, and forehead creases from frowning too much.

You draw short buzzed hair, before deciding it doesn’t look right and scribbling it out.

You draw several noses. Some small, some large, some button and some bumpy. None of them fit the face you’ve drawn.

It looks all wrong, so you start again.

And again, and again, and again.

But none of them look right. None of them suit him.

You keep trying. Your wrist aches but you have some sort of primal desire to get it right.

You try hooded eyes, round eyes, almond eyes, at one point you draw squares just for the hell of it, of course they don’t look right but neither do any of the other ones. You try every face shape you can, round, sharp. None of it’s right and you’re starting to get frustrated.

Again.

And again, and again, and again.

And then there’s static.

He’s standing just in front of you now. You hadn’t realized he’s walked over as you slam the journal shut.

He clears his throat.

That’s it.

He doesn’t speak but he does make you aware of how much darker it is in the hallway, you need to go to dinner. You look at him once more, waiting, hoping he’ll say something but there’s nothing. So you nod and stand, walking to your chambers first, tossing the book inside along with the pens before heading towards the dining hall.

Your pace is sluggish. You know you’re already late but you have no desire to see him and Mando doesn’t rush you so you take your time.

Your walk is over too soon as the guards at the door nod when you approach.

As the doors are pushed open you can’t help but pray to all the gods that he isn’t sober. There’s no way you can handle that bone chilling venom in his voice when he talks to you without his drunken drawl.

You step in to see him already finishing what you assume isn’t his first glass of ale, relief rushing through your veins, the Mandalorian hot on your heels, Kodo looking up at the sound of your footsteps with a twisted grin.

“There you are my nervous mouse!” Nevermind, sober would be better than this anyday.

“Hello dear husband.” You mutter as you take your familiar seat across from him, the Mandalorian taking his position just behind you.

“How are you my mouse? Have you been well?” He chews with his mouth open, little bits of the meat pie before him spewing out from between his lips.

Maker, he’s disgusting. You wish he was the one who was sworn to forever wear a helmet.

“I’m perfectly fine, my prince.” You play with the food in front of you, you have no appetite as you watch him, possibly the most drunk you’ve ever seen him.

His dinner conversation is filthy.

He won’t shut up about one of the girls his brother just became betrothed too. He goes into graphic detail how attractive he finds her “lithe figure.”

There’s a sadness in your heart for this stranger.

Does she know what she’s marrying?

Of course he can never seem to stop talking about his brother's wives as he mentions that one is currently pregnant, claiming she’s the size of a barn.

You don’t hide your frown.

Why should you?

If he’s going to be a pig you might as well treat him like one.

Eventually he settles on rambling about how he wants to get more battle droids for his personal guard because the people in the city don’t seem to be fond of him, and because he’s often out in public spaces he needs more protection.

Personally, the six he currently has following him at all times already seems to be a bit much but you could care less.

They take your untouched plate and bring out another course that you don’t touch as he continues to ramble about his battle droids for the entirety of this course.

Finally someone comes to take the plates and you’ve only got dessert left to get through. He finishes another drink as he begins to talk with his mouth full of whatever pastry is in front of the both of you.

“Still hiding in the library little mouse” He raises his once again filled glass in your direction.

Your jaw twitches at the nickname.

“Yes my prince.”

“Still my little mouse I see. How dull.” He laughs loudly, when he slams his glass down on the table a bit of the dark liquid spills onto the white tablecloth.

“I suppose I just like reading.” You don’t want to entertain him any longer. You just want to go back to your room.

He hiccups as he releases the glass in his hand and points at you, taunting you.

“You’re a tedious little thing aren’t you?” There’s that cruel grin.

He must get off on this or something.

You have no interest in being a part of that so you just pick at the pastry in front of you with your fork.

“Did you hear me little mouse? Your prince asked you a question?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d like to be dismissed.” You push your chair away from the table standing and collecting yourself before you start walking out. You hear Kodo’s chair screech against the wood floors and he goes around his side of the table to cut you off before you reach the exit.

For someone as drunk as he is he’s surprisingly quick on his feet.

“You’re dismissed when I dismiss you.” He spits out, glaring down at you, even slouched he’s got a few inches on you. You roll your eyes as you start to push past him but you’re suddenly knocked to the ground, a sharp sting on the left side of your face.

It all happens in slow motion.

The force of the slap has you reeling to the floor. Your head knocks against the cold ground.

Your teeth cut deep into your lip, and you taste blood.

His handprint lingers against your face and you know you’ll have a mark.

All of this registers in an instant. The next thing you do is purely on instinct, your eyes go to the Mandalorian. Because somehow you know that if you don’t stop him he’ll do something irreversible.

You give him a warning look, eyes wide, shaking your head the tiniest bit, just enough that only he will register it.

And you were right to do it because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s taken a step forward in your direction, positioning himself beside you defensively.

You’re actually grateful for how drunk Kodo is because he doesn’t seem to notice any of this and it only takes one more stare from you to get Mando to take his hand off his firearm.

“Now you’re dismissed.” Kodo growls at you before throwing his glass against the wall, screaming at one of the servants to find his brothers, not bothering to be discreet as he yells about some whore house.

The moment he storms off you’re struggling to your feet, groaning, you never actually get to your feet though as you’re lifted off the ground.

The Mandalorian picks you up effortlessly, holding you bridal style as he rushes you out of the dining room, his helmet trained on your face as he brings you towards your chambers on muscle memory alone, his visor never looking away from you.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process anything that’s happened in the last two minutes, your hand coming to your face causing you to wince as you poke at the gash on your lip.

He’s shaking.

His entire body trembles and his grip on you is unyielding as he walks.

You stare up into the black line of the visor and the shakes seem to lessen so you stay like that, staring at each other as he carries you until you get there and he leans down to open the door, never letting his gaze falter as he brings you inside and sets you on the bed. He puts his satchel next to you before giving you one final look.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since the night he ended things. The hoarse rasp of his voice crawls deep into your brain, settling like warm honey and calming your nerves.

You want to plead with him. Beg him to stay, but he said he'll be back so you stay put. He quickly leaves the room, grabs the book on flowers off the vanity on his way out. The one he had been reading that you had taken. He’s only gone a moment, you hear a tearing sound and when he comes back the book is gone.��

You don’t push further as he approaches you. Taking your face in his hands to observe the injury.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He says it like he’s the one who hit you. Full of regret and longing.

“I don’t want your apologies.” Liar. You want anything he’ll give you. You want his apologies, his insults, and his praises. But more than anything you want that soft tone, that gentle way of speaking that he reserves just for you.

“I don’t care what you want right now. My only concern right now is making sure this doesn’t scar.” You cringe as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to get a better look at where your teeth cut through the tender flesh there.

“I’m sure you’d hate that. What use would I be to you without my looks?” You don’t know why you say it. Maybe you just need someone to be angry at right now. Maybe he deserves it. You aren’t really sure. But there’s a harshness in it you didn’t know you were capable of. If he has a reaction to your words he doesn’t show it physically as he continues inspecting the small wound.

“I’m the last person who cares about that…” Now he seems concentrated on prodding and inspecting the red mark that’s certainly forming on your cheek as you push his hands away.

“Thanks.” You scoff, crossing your arms as you glare up at him. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You know that’s not what I meant, now can you not be difficult? For just a few minutes? This is really deep… it’s almost all the way through your lip. It will definitely leave a mark if I don’t take care of it…”

His gloved hands gingerly grab your chin, he sounds more frustrated than you’ve ever heard him. He reaches into his bag and retrieves some antiseptic and a rag. He pours a bit onto the cloth before dabbing it at the broken skin of your lip causing you to wince at the sting.

“I know. Just a little more.” It’s almost that familiar soft tone he takes with you as he finishes up before grabbing a small vial from his bag, a viscous clearish, white liquid in it. You can’t help but furrow your brows as you stare at it. It’s like he reads your mind as he uncorks the top.

“It’s bacta, you deviant.” He mutters as he pours a bit of the slimy solution onto the fingertips of his gloves as he generously applies it to the cut. Your nose scrunches up at the sour smell of it. He’s silent as he carefully coats the side of your face with a thin layer of the stuff before hesitating and then continuing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

Not really.

You weren’t really sure how you felt about it. You knew Kodo was a bad person. You just hadn’t realized how bad.

And you’re married to him. Condemned to be his wife.

But you don’t want to tell Mando all that so instead you just shake your head no. You’re grateful that he doesn’t push you for more, he simply nods as he coats the inside of your lip with the bacta.

“Maker, that's gross…” You groan as a bit touches your tongue, it tastes just as sour as it smells.

“It is. But it won’t scar.” He hands you the rest of the vial. “Have one of the girls put more on in the morning, you should be good as new by tomorrow night.”

“Oh great. It won’t scar, thank the gods.” You roll your eyes as you take the tube, tossing it onto the bed.

“Watch it.” His tone is sharp and you feel it stab into your chest, it’s just like the first few days. When he’d snap at you because he thought you were plotting against him, of course, you were but he was presumptuous to assume that.

You don’t like that it reminds you of what you used to be.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore. You don’t get to do anything to me anymore, including tell me if I can or cannot have a mark on my face. It doesn’t bother me, so maybe when you leave I will wipe off this disgusting salve and let it scar, I don’t understand why you care so much about my face having an imperfection.” You shove past him.

You don’t know why you’re so mad. It isn’t his fault.

You definitely just need someone to be mad at and he just so happens to be here.

But that doesn’t matter. You deserve to be angry. And he deserves to have someone angry at him because of how he’s treated you.

You walk to the closet, as you open the door he’s already caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He immediately pulls it back, like your skin was ablaze and you had sent him up in flames. You glare, waiting for him to speak or leave.

It's quiet for a long time.

The only sound is the crack of the modulator.

It gives you goosebumps as you wait.

“If I had to look at you every day and see that reminder of what he did, sooner or later I would walk into whatever pleasure house he’s defiling on that particular day, and no amount of battle droids, or royal guards, would be able to stop me from cutting off the hand that had struck you.”

Oh.

You don’t have a witty remark.

Or any sort of comeback.

There are no words to explain how you feel so you nod before stepping into the closet and shutting the door. After a few minutes you hear the click of your bedroom door and you know he’s gone.

Oh.

You can’t really focus on anything that’s happened tonight. There’s too many things happening in your brain.

So you tug at your dress.

Desperate to be free of the suffocating blue fabric. You don’t know when you start crying but your cheeks are wet with tears and bacta and eventually you manage to tear the fabric in the front of your bodice as you rip the front of the dress completely in half. Frantically pulling yourself free of the cloth you open the closet door to throw the wretched thing into the main room before curling into a ball on your blankets.

You’re just so tired.

But you can’t stop thinking.

And you don’t want to think about Kodo.

So you let yourself think about Mando.

You don’t tell yourself to stop. And you don’t deny things as you think about what he said.

Eventually you fall asleep.

And that night in your dreams the faceless man stops running away.

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