#JUST SOMETHING...SHORT AND SWEET.......SOME SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF THE

[penaltyboxboxbox]

its romantic | a strollonso playlist

[alullinchaos]

sometimes I think I’m just a writer and then I randomly plan out the concept for an entire musical album/record and then just like. forget about it. anyway guess what I’ve done

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Pie. aka - Cherry, Part Three.

There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”

“Your mom?”

“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”

“My Cherry?”

Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.

“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”

You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.

“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”

The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.

“Not true.”

Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.

“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”

“We’re not watching a romcom.”

“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.

“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.

“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”

“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”

Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.

You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.

“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”

“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”

You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.

“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”

You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.

“See you later, Stevie.”

“See you later, Cherry Pie.”

You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.

“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”

You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.

“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”

You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.

There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.

“Honey, I’m home!”

You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.

“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.

“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”

“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.

“Something smells really good.”

“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”

“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”

You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.

“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”

He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.

Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”

Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,

“Of course I did.”

And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.

“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”

Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.

The same thing happens tonight.

You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.

The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.

Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.

You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.

He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.

Oh. Oh.

You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.

“Steve.”

“Cherry.”

“Steve.”

You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.

“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.

His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.

“I love you, Cherry Baby.”

You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.

“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”

You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.

“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”

You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,

“You.”

Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”

The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.

“Shit.”

“Stevie.”

He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.

You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.

Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”

“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”

“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”

You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.

Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.

You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.

“You okay?”

You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.

“Steve?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.

“Want it to be you.”

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.

“You mean…”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”

“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”

“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”

He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.

Perhaps you do.

“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”

He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”

Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.

“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”

You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.

“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”

Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”

You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.

“You good?”

“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.

“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.

When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”

You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.

But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,

“I know. I’ve always known.”

And that’s enough, for now.

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss

for some reason I didn't tag some people from part one in part two... no idea why. sorry!

[reidmaniac]

dancing in the refrigerator light. | spencer reid x fem!reader.

warnings: none really just fluff. established relationship, i think there’s like a pet name or two. honestly just idiots in love.

surprise! i’m still alive, i didn’t just fall off the face of the earth. i’ve just been so stressed and out of it lately, but here’s a short little story for you guys. love you, enjoy you!

---

it was late—one of those lazy summer nights that seemed to stretch on forever. the kind of night where the crickets sang softly, and the world outside was quiet. spencer reid was sprawled on the couch, his nose buried in an old leather-bound book. the air was warm and comforting, a gentle reminder of the peace that could be found in the small moments.

you, were in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, looking for something sweet to snack on. the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. as you found a slice of leftover pie, you couldn't help but notice the light casting a soft glow across the kitchen floor.

“hey, spence,” you called out, leaning against the fridge door, the light spilling out behind you.

spencer looked up from his book, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “yeah?”

“do you want some pie? i found a slice of blueberry pie in here,” you said, holding up the plate as if it were a prize.

he set the book aside and stretched, his long limbs unfolding like a cat. “sure, i could go for some pie.”

as he made his way into the kitchen, you grabbed a couple of forks and placed them on the counter. spencer stopped beside you, his eyes soft and warm under the dim light. he reached for the pie, but his attention was suddenly drawn to the music playing softly from the radio on the kitchen shelf. an old song, one that you both loved, was playing—a slow, gentle tune that made you want to sway.

“do you remember this song?” spencer asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

“of course i do,” you replied with a smile. “how could i forget?”

there was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice a little more confident this time. “dance with me?”

you were taken aback for a moment, not because he asked, but because he asked so sweetly, with a hint of vulnerability in his voice. you nodded, placing the pie on the counter and stepping closer to him.

“i’d love to.”

spencer took your hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. the refrigerator door was still open, casting that soft, warm light across the floor. he placed a hand on your waist, and you rested your free hand on his shoulder. slowly, you both began to sway to the music, your movements syncing naturally, like you had done this a thousand times before.

“you know, i’m not much of a dancer,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

“you’re doing just fine, genius,” you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

as you danced in the dim light, everything else seemed to fade away—the world outside, the late hour, even the pie sitting forgotten on the counter. it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, moving to the gentle rhythm of the music.

spencer looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with something unspoken. “i could get used to this,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“what, dancing in the refrigerator light?” you teased.

he nodded, his smile growing. “yeah, exactly that, sweetheart.”

you laughed softly, resting your head against his chest as you continued to dance. the warmth of the refrigerator light and the softness of his touch made you feel as though you were in a world of your own, where time didn’t matter and the only thing that existed was this moment.

“you know, this is kind of perfect,” you said, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“yeah?” he asked, his eyes meeting yours, filled with curiosity and something that felt like hope.

“yeah. it’s not every day you get to dance in the kitchen with dr. spencer reid,” you replied with a playful grin.

he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “well, it’s not every day i get to dance with the most amazing woman i know.”

the compliment made your heart flutter, and you knew that this moment was one you would cherish forever. as the song played on, you and spencer continued to dance, the soft glow of the refrigerator light casting your shadows across the floor. it was a simple, beautiful moment—one that seemed to capture everything that mattered between you two.

eventually, the song came to an end, and you both slowed to a stop, still wrapped in each other’s arms. you didn’t let go right away, savoring the closeness and the warmth.

“thank you for the dance, my love,” spencer said softly, his eyes twinkling with gratitude.

“anytime, spence,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i think we need to make this a regular thing,” he murmured.

“dancing in the kitchen at midnight?” you asked, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“exactly. it’s kind of our thing now,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“i’d like that,” you said, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your heart.

you stepped back slightly, reaching for the pie once more. the night stretched on, filled with the promise of more dances, more laughter, and more moments like this—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, dancing in the gentle glow of the refrigerator light.

[anonymouscheeses]

Even more and more of obvious shit I point out because I want an excuse to rant while not interacting with actual people in real life who also like this show because I'm masking 😍💜💜

BARELY STARTED AND BRO. YOU JUST LET HER DO THAT TO YOU, ME PERSONALLY-

HE'S PETTING KEE-KEE I LOVE HIM SMM

HER HOOVES. I LOVE IT. NOT LIKE THAT, IM JUST A FURRY-

*grabs pen*

ANGRY CHARLIE FOR THE WIN. I LOVE WHEN THE HAPPY CHARACTER GETS ANGSTY (Cough. Luz. Cough).

The people writing fanfics where she gets FURIOUS. Omg. That was something I read. I LOVE MY FELLOW FANFIC WRITERS BUT OH MY- YALL REALLY HAD CHARLIE M A D.

"Uh-"

I love his reaction lmao look at his goofy face.

HER BOW BECAME HORNS (my "redesign" is now 100% worse)

SAD VAGGIE. THE BOW. DROOPY.

Oh and the angel dust fellow back there 🤯

I LOVE ROSIE SO MUCH HUH

Tall.

No explanation needed. <3

PLEASE HELP???

CUTIE PATOOTIE. I LOVE HER SM UGGHHH

CHARLIE HATES OLD PEOPLE COMFIRMED YAY 😍😍💅💅

Hot

That's it.

IN SYNC. I LOVE THIS SONG AND THE ENTIRE SCENE. WHY IS IT RANKED SO LOW WITH SOME OF YALL?? Okay well-

I thought this song was gonna be a Charlie and Vaggie duet- tbh I still preferred that BUT I LOVE CARMILLA SO I KINDA DONT CARE.

BUT I WAS ROBBED OF AN ACTUAL FULL CHAGGIE DUET (REPRISE DOESNT COUNT) IF H*SKERDUST GETS A FULL ONE WHY CAN'T CHAGGIE? *SOB* uhh anyway-

Is that. Like. How she thinks actually 😰

I know there's been a lot of the lack of Vaggie's self-worth, which I wish was explored into more. I just think the Vaggie(3rd) episode just wasn't needed at all if it didn't even have an impact. Don't get me started on that episode, it was rushed, too early to have character arcs already, and overall not needed or even should have existed periodt.

I hope they explore it next season because GOD this woman needs TO LOVE HERSELF. OR ATLEAST CARE ABOUT HERSELF LIKE????

SWEET MAMA PLEASE. TAKE ME IN YOUR WINGS AAAAAAAAA

Charlie, sharing is caring <3

Out of all the people I thought Charlie would vent to I didn't think it would be ROSIE. It's a nice surprise tho I love her <3

bisexuality.

That's it.

HE'S DANCING. ALASTOR IS DANCING. THEY ARE SLAYING BESTIES. THE MAN IS DANCING. HELP.

Season 2 is going to be Charlie in her villain era and Alastor's reputation era 😍

I LOVE VAGGIE'S FACE. PRECIOUS BABY UGHH... THEN THE WINGS REPLACE THE BOW AND DROOP UGGHH I HOPE IN SEASON 2 WE SEE MORE OF HER WINGS. OR CUT HER HAIR SHORT SO WE CAN HAVE IT ALL THE TIME. Also so Husk and Vaggie can bond over both having wings. Sorry I love their potential friendship so much. AND LUCIFER AND VAGGIE TOO!! BOTH BEING FALLEN ANGELS OMG. UGH THE POTENTIAL OF VAGGIE'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH NOT JUST CHARLIE ARE SO GOOD AND I HAVE BEEN ROBBED OF SEEING HER AS AN ACTUALLY MORE FLESHED OUT CHARACTER. I AM SCREAMING AAAAAAAA.

I can't say how much I love them. It's too much. I cant- yay the teaser image before the show came out <3 they are so fucking adorable. UGH SOME1 END ME

Charlie loves the wings hehehe. Vaggie looks nervous about it. It's probably a reminder to her about when she used to be an exterminator. The healing from everything will take a long time but hopefully Charlie will be there for her the entire time. And vice versa

Ayo- 😰

CHARLIE. T H E PRECIOUS BABY.

Uh next one tomorrow cuz yeah 🤯

[meowzfordayz]

i belong to you

Author’s Note: short ‘n’ fluffy (w/ a hint of bittersweet 😅). 🥰

i belong to you

Hashira x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,800

CW: death content, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: I Belong to You by Jacob Lee

~faqs~

They’re all here for us, and I feel their aura, but just for a moment, I’ll pretend it’s just you

He’d never thought of himself as the marrying type, and yet, standing before you, he suddenly couldn’t imagine himself any other way. But truly, it wasn’t even sudden, this slow burning, building, consuming love for the feeling of your hand in his. It was inevitable, the revelation of his heart to yours, just as you gradually unveiled your own for his.

“In this existence of hardship and darkness, I can somehow wake every morning to an absolute truth: that you are beside me, and together, we will overcome anything.”

Perhaps this is a tall promise when every morning brings a different absolute truth as well — that death will come. Some day, somewhere, and likely all too soon. But it’s a promise worth fighting for. This much he knows in his chest as he feels your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing gently as if to promise in return Yes, yes we will.

As Gyomei kisses you, soft and certain, he swears that the world falls to pieces leaving only your body pressed into his, an achingly sweet melody ringing in his ears. And when you whisper I love you, he’s confident that you hear it too.

And I will wait to hear you say, as a tear rolls down your face, I belong to you

“Darling,” she whispers, a steady thumb reaching out to smooth your teardrop into your skin, “Are you okay?”

You nod once, a drowsy smile crinkling the corners of your eyes as more tears escape, tongue heavy in your mouth as she continues wiping your cheeks, her brow furrowed with an adoration that’s always been impossible to resist.

“I’m amazing,” you rasp, catching her hand and cradling it to your chest, ears warming as she kneads her fingertips into your sternum, “I belong to you.”

Mitsuri’s nose scrunches, worried expression soon replaced by a beaming grin, the sweetest of giggles filling the room as she maneuvers herself on top of you, hovering with her palms planted on either side of you while her breasts rest plush against your own.

“I am so in love with you,” she gushes, “With my wife.”

Her lips touch your forehead then your chin, careful fingers tilting your head left and then right to kiss your earlobes, goosebumps raising along your forearms and spine.

“We’re married,” you gasp, stopping her ministrations with a gentle squeeze to her hips, “I get to love you for the rest of our lives.”

Shining eyes meet shining eyes as she lets out a happy sob, bodies intertwined as you settle into the perfect quiet of forever.

Tomorrow I’ll open my eyes, and I will whisper to my wife, I belong to you

Loving you hadn’t come easy, but it hadn’t come especially hard either. For all the anger and regret of her past, you had reminded Shinobu that the present and future persisted, irregardless of her willingness to live in or for them. Perhaps this is why she yelled at you so many months ago, and perhaps this is also why she’d cried. You’d accepted her emotion so simply and resolutely, welcoming her frustration and grief with open arms instead of the very spite and scorn she’d always reserved for herself. And she’d heard herself, for the first time in too long of a time, say I’m sorry. Those two words muffled in the armpit of your haori, her face buried in your embrace, had made your devotion clear as day — a devotion she’d found herself happy and happier to reciprocate.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, airy voice tinged with a solemn adoration discernible only to you.

“Mmm,” you mumble, yawning widely as you burrow yourself deeper into her chest, “Hi.”

“Would you like to know something?” she asks, warming her cheek on the top of your sunkissed head.

“Definitely,” you mumble, limbs clinging drowsily to her small frame, “I enjoy knowing things.”

She slips a cool finger beneath your chin, raising your sleepy gaze to meet her determined stare, mouth soft and decisive when she kisses you. You sigh sweetly into her affection, her smile familiar yet delicate against your own, trying her best to tell you I belong to you. 

I know they see us but they don’t stand a chance, I have kissed those lips a thousand times before this

The first time he kisses you, you think he’s dying. Of course, all paths lead to death, and being a Hashira tends to make this path even shorter, but expected pain is pain nonetheless. You cradle his head in your lap, his hair sticky with blood, his strength overwhelming you Kyojuro-san, stop moving! despite his wounds as he cranes upward to touch his mouth to yours. Tasting of sweat and ashes, your tears cleanse his cheeks and chest, a silly little grin brightening his face while grief and longing sit deep into your stomach.

The second time he kisses you, you’re pissed he’s alive. Well, not that he’s alive, but that he took so long to tell you. Maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he’s just woken from a coma, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he limped literal miles to locate you, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering you were his sole thought and concern as soon as he regained enough consciousness to process that he was, in fact, conscious. But the brittle dread of He’s unlikely to make it has haunted you for months, and-

“Hey,” he rasps, cupping your jaw with a shy tenderness, “No need to ruminate, I am still here.”

Your gaze flits left and right, blurred as you avoid focusing on the steadfast devotion in his eyes, lips tingling from the surety of his kiss.

“I can see that,” you state dryly, your shaky inhale dissolving into a disbelieving sob, his arms atrophied yet certain as they wrap around you, his weight leaning shaky and perfectly against you.

The third time he kisses you, the fourth, and fifth — they are as precious and known, new and familiar, as the very first time.

And when he kisses you for the nth time, when he kisses you as your newly wedded husband, you realize you have already lived a thousand best moments of your life, and that a thousand and more await you.

If I could be honest, here at the altar, I refuse to grow older unless it’s with you

Age has always been a distant thing to Sanemi. He isn’t oblivious to it — the passing of snow into buds, to blossoms and then to the falling of leaves. But it’s a torturous thing to acknowledge. To remember how many more years he’s gotten to live than his mother. His five siblings. Colleagues and strangers alike. He feels as old as he is still young, steeped in death and dishevelment, sticky with yearning and fear, a projection of surety and arrogance fooling even himself. Strong and foolhardy, the clock ticks as he loses a piece of himself, another piece, another and another, to the illusion of living. And then you come slicing into his horizon.

Everything about you is almost polished. Your form, your strength, your five senses, flexibility and endurance… and somehow, he can’t find it in himself to loath you for being less than. Because you are more. You are more than the endless repetitions completed silently before him; you are more than the scrapes and bruises, stubborn retorts and near misses. You are the plate of ohagi left on his doorstep after a particularly harsh exchange of words. He knows he struck first, and yet, you open yourself to forgiveness. You are the letter received when he’s gone on an especially grueling mission. There’s not much to say, but your consideration of him makes him hesitate. You are the sight for sore eyes when he finally realizes, a year and some months into pondering your existence practically every day, that he wants you to be close. Closer. As close as you’re willing to be.

And if close means noticing when your face begins to wrinkle, your hair starts to grey, and your body learns what it is to ache, then he’s ready to remember. To reclaim. The pieces of himself he’d surrendered to time and space; he wants them back as much as he wants you.  All you ask of him is his whole self, and if he is to grant your wish, then he must acknowledge a simple truth: growing old need not be a curse any longer when it could instead be a gift to share with you.

“You’re crying,” you giggle, tears of your own dripping down your cheeks.

“Of course I’m crying,” he scoffs, faint grin softening the edge in his tone, “I get to marry you.”

Yes they can see us but only at a glance, only you know the man that I am beyond the surface

Marriage is hard. Learning someone inside and out is hard. Choosing that same someone day after day is hard. Growing and relapsing, nurturing and surrendering, saying Yes, and. A lifelong commitment of love is hard. And, honestly, Giyuu didn’t think he’d ever get there. He didn’t think he’d be waking up most mornings with your nose nestled in his chest or his arm, your leg stuck between his. He didn’t think he’d be murmuring I love you, a cold and desperate determination I will come home to you flooding his lungs as you do your best to stand strong when he waves. When he leaves. Knowing without a doubt that you’d crumpled as soon as he disappeared from view. He didn’t think he’d be returning to the softest, the greediest, the fondest and proudest, kisses. Kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, ears and chin. Kisses on his lips. Your hands checking his limbs while you listen to his breath; your eyes glistening as he whispers over and over I missed you, I love you, I missed you, I love you. He didn’t think he’d be this intimate, this familiar, this devastatingly and perfectly close to anyone. To you. And yet, here he is.

“Giyuu?”

“My love?”

“I love when you call me that.”

“I know.”

You blush, “Oh,” promptly hiding your face in his armpit.

“And I love getting to love you. I love that you are my love.”

[inklore]

roadside delight

premise: joel should have known you'd be trouble when he found you on the side of the highway. he should have known you'd taste so fucking sweet too.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k

contents: hitch hiking, set in the late sixties to seventies but please read it however you'd like, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, dirty talk, threats of coming inside, age gap if you want it to be one but i didn't specify, marking.

note: i actually wouldn't mind writing more from this down the road because i love this concept and i'm forever loving this old man.

haunted hoedown day four.

If Joel Miller had been told this morning that he would end up with a stranger bent against the seat of his old pickup, a moaning mess, and begging him to do filthy things to her: he would have told you to fuck off. 

Would have scowled at them and moved on with his day because he had no interest in whatever nonsense they would have been spewing to him. 

But here he was, this pretty thing moaning into the worn cushion of his seats, your shorts sitting on the floor of his pickup. Your nails gripping his wrist as his fingers dig into your hip as he fucks you hard. 

His name on your lips sounding better than it should, coming from someone he just picked up three hours ago. 

He should have known, just by the look of you. 

Your shorts shorter than any pair he’s ever seen, a leather bag over one arm, the other arm bare and lifted with your thumb held out into the air. The sweetest smile he’s seen in the whole state of California—which he was happily driving out of. 

A happy exit you too were excited to make as he, possibly against his better judgment, pulled over and let you hop up in his truck. Throwing your bag to the floor, the trusting grin on your face making him happy he picked you up and not some fornate creep. 

You were headed to New York. 

“I’m sick of the heat,” you said, trying to start a casual conversation with him. Joel’s habit of being off putting and quiet went unphased by you as you talked his ear off. 

But something told him there was more to the story. 

More about why you were leaving California. Why you were in such a rush to get out that climbing into the car with a complete stranger seemed like more of a promise than it did to just wait and take a bus. The safer option out of the two. 

It wasn’t his business to know unless you wanted to tell him, so Joel did what he did best and didn’t pry. Left it as was and listened to you talk, his eyes softening slightly when you sang along to the radio and his throat tightening when his gaze moved along your exposed thighs. The lack of neckline of your shirt making him grip the steering wheel a little harder to reign himself in. 

Coming off like a creep, let alone ogling a woman, was not his forte. He had been raised with a little more gentlemanly dna inside of him. 

Maybe it was the heat or the way you talked to him as if you'd known him for years instead of less than an hour, or maybe it was the way you knew every song on the radio, the station that never changed in his truck. The station that served him the best comfort and reminded him of home. 

You were a rare breed to him. 

“You ain’t got nowhere to stay?” He had asked you after you had disclosed to him all to eagerly about your big dreams in the big apple, and the lack of real plan you had to achieve them. Flying on hopes and dreams and the hundred dollars you had in your bag. 

“Nope,” you said with a smile. A smile that both made Joel uneasy and his own lips twitch. 

“You ain’t got no one waiting for you? Lookin’ for you?” 

“Why?” Your brows raised playfully, “you got other plans for me?” The scoff that left Joel made you laugh before your tone turned serious, looking out the window as you spoke. “No one’s looking for me or waiting.” you sigh, “you ever been so sick of listening to what people tell you to do? They know what's  best, and they know what you should do because it benefits them. It’s not even for your own wellbeing; they’re just trying to be saints. To live through you. To control you. I was just so sick of it. So, I just woke up one day and said, fuck it, and I left.” 

“No better way to find yourself than on the side of the highway.” Joel joked drly, and the reaction he got out of you was one he thinks if he had to hear over every state line he would have zero complaints about it. 

“And here I thought you were some uptight old man.”

“And here I thought you were trouble.” 

“Who said I’m not?” You smirked, gave him the smallest of winks that made him grin. “Troubles fun.” 

That’s why Joel should have known then. 

Should have known when he saw you on the side of the road.

When you jumped into his truck.

When you had him questioning himself.

He should have known you’d feel so good.

“Do you like when I touch you like this? I can keep going if you want me to.” You had said when you reached over and rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. Your mouth soon found itself wrapped around his cock before he pulled off the road, no longer being able to control himself.

He should have known you’d sound fucking sweet saying his name as he fucked you. 

“Is this what you do? Stand on the side of the road waiting for strange men to pick you up and fuck you, huh?” Joel’s words are low grunts murmured into your neck, a hand curving around your shoulder to give him better leverage. “Like a little fuckin’ siren.” His teeth graze the nape of your neck as he bites and sucks at the skin there. Leaving you with something to remember him by. A mark on you the way you’re leaving it on him. 

Your pussy clenches around his cock. Your moans and whimpers settling in the pit of his groin, that has his pleasure building and building. That makes him fuck you harder when you cry out for more. 

“Yes.” 

“It’s a good thing I pulled over then, fell into your little trap, and gave this pussy what it needed. I deserve a thank you for being so kind.” Your moan is muffled by the seat, your head attempts a nod as your body trembles against him. “I deserve to come in this pussy as much as I want. Get my fill before I leave you to find the next sorry asshole.” Joel grunts, curses under his breath as he holds your ass flush against his pelvis, lifting your hips to a new angle to fuck harder into your tightness. 

“Or maybe I’ll just keep you. Take you home with me and use you as my lil’ fuck toy, would’ya like that? To be used every day the way you deserve?”

[mungdou]

DANDELIONS PT. 2

PR. ushijima x reader; semi x reader

W. swears

GR. angst, comfort, resolution

WC. 3.2k

AN. revenge is so sweet; tysm for all the love on the first part!! it was such a warm welcome back haha :)) requests are still open so please ask away my brain is highkey empty.

(pt. 1)

It's been a while since you've felt lonely. After that day, Semi started sitting with you during lunch to chat about his day, hum some new riffs he was testing out on his guitar, or just as good company. He'd get something from the cafeteria whilst you ate the pre-packed lunch you made the night before. Needless to say, there were more than a few bites missing from your lunch after the hour was over. It was peaceful and more than anything you could ask for.

"Y/n, listen to this-" He played a short video clip of a new song he was practicing. The sound was smooth, almost as if he had run the audio through a creamy filter. Were his fingers always this nimble? Or did you just start noticing? Mesmerized by the short clip, you couldn't help pressing the reset button 3 or 4 times before Semi began pulling away.

Your eyes looked up, snapped out of the trance his fingering put you into. "Oh! Sorry, I couldn't help myself-" You smiled as your face burned with embarrassment. "That was amazing, Semi-Semi, definitely remind me next time you practice- I'd love to come listen to you live." Your fingers twiddled under the table, hoping the sudden advance didn't come out too eager. His playing was beautiful- his fingers danced on the fretboard meticulously and the notes were so smooth, almost like magic.

His lips curled in a proud smile and he seemed to perk up like a dog. "You... wanna come over? Like, to hear me practice? Me? Really?" He mustered out, his words stumbled over another. His ears turned pink and waved his hands around, gesturing between the two of you without direction.

You giggled at his flustered reaction and grasped his flailing hands. They were flushed at the knuckles, and you could feel the hard-earned callouses that had formed from years of guitar and volleyball practice. His palms were warm, but his fingertips were cold, and as you squeezed his hands, they seemed to relax into a gentle position.

"Yes! I'd really like it if I could... does this Sunday work? You'll be going home for the weekend, right?" You eagerly spoke, your hands squeezing his just a bit harder.

Semi nodded shyly, his eyes darting between his enveloped hands and your eyes. "Ahem-" He coughed softly. "Here, give me your phone, I'll put my address in for you." He took your phone off the table and typed in his address before turning it to you to confirm that you had it.

"Hmm? Oh! You live so close by to me!" You exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Yeah this is like, a 15 minute walk from my place! Wow, Why haven't we seen this before, that's so convenient, Semi-semi!"

"Oh really? That's crazy, we could have been catching the bus together or something-"

"SEMI-SEMIIIIII??" The disembodied voice of a familiar lanky middle blocker interrupted your newfound discovery. "DID SHE JUST CALL YOU SEMI-SEMI????"

"Goddamnit" Semi groans, turning away from Tendou, banging his head against the table.

"Hi Tendou, what's going on?" A shit-eating grin creeped on your face with full intent to milk this 'Semi-semi' privilege you held over his head. One of the only things you could hold above his head to be honest.

Tendou's teeth grit, greeting you with a playful glare before turning to Semi, "Why can she call you Semi-semi without getting verbally attacked? This isn't fair, I'll have you know." He tsked, "And what's this about meeting up?? Hmm?? Unsupervised, might I add?"

"Shut up, Tendou." Semi growled, picking up his tray and walking away.

You smiled nervously at Tendou, "So..." You began.

"So..." Tendou copied.

"How's Ushijima been? I mean- well- yeah." It was hard asking. It had been a few weeks since he insulted your character and needless to say, everything about it was hard. His words and your acceptance of those words. As much as you wish it didn't, time still moved on even though you were left in pain and embarrassment. The only thing that helped you get through with it was Semi and Tendou.

"He's doing okay, I guess?" Tendou mused before sauntering to pester Goshiki abut his bowl cut or something.

You guess? Okay, weird.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Even though Tendou stayed close to Ushijima, he still came over to ask about how you were doing every so often, or to tease you about something or another. It was refreshing, that despite all this, he still treated you the same.

At least he didn't pity you.

It was a shame how fast rumors spread after Ushijima rejected you so coldly.

Most said that it was your fault for interfering with his feelings.

Some thought that it was his fault for being so blunt without apologies.

Even less thought it had to do with Aoi.

Most people in the inner volleyball ring knew the truth. That Aoi had changed their cornerstone ace for better and worse. On one hand, he worked twice as hard to impress her and to better himself. On the other hand, he became ever so slightly distracted, and it didn't help that Aoi rarely did her manager duties.

At some point, it had become too much for you to handle basic manager duties on top of appealing to Aoi and Ushijima. Aoi's whole point of being here was to help out, but instead of pushing carts, hanging laundry, or taking notes, she could be seen trailing her boyfriend up and down the court with a water bottle and towel only for him.

Imagine pulling a hundred pound anchor of dead weight on a chain with your teeth while using your hands to organize papers and running 5 miles an hour.

It was obvious that people noticed. They pitied you more than they cared to admit, but they were too afraid to speak out. Plus, you reassured them that everything was fine as to not stress them out further.

Besides, it wasn't like you could fire her at this point. She was supposed to be taking over after you graduated and it was already too soon to the end of the year to start over.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

That Saturday, you woke up earlier than usual to make some cute thumbprint jam cookies to bring over as a snack for your hangout the next day. You biked out to the local grocery store to grab some missing ingredients and some nice fruit for his parents before visiting for the first time. After grabbing all the ingredients, all that was left was to peruse the aisles for fun.

"Ooh, they have truffle fry chips? That's new- ahh I shouldn't... but then again... hmmm." You murmured to yourself, crouching down to look at the options of savory treats when you heard a voice call out your name.

"Y/n-senpai?" A familiar cute, yet unfeeling voice rang in your ears, making your stomach flip in anxiety. You turned around and saw Aoi standing at the end of the aisle. Whipping your eyes back down to the bottom of the shelf, you took a few deep breaths as you heard the pitter-patter of her heel-adorned feet run down the aisle towards you.

"Aoi." You curtly nipped, with an unfamiliar lack of emotion lacing your words. "What are you doing here?" Standing back up to face her, you noticed that she had showy makeup on and was dressed nicer than usual.

"I'm here to get something with Toshi~ But I should be asking you that." She smirked boastfully, her cute demeanor barely shielding her bitter intentions. "You are so... weird. No offense. Why are you here? Probably stalking Toshi like always. Ugh, you're so suffocating, like, leave us alone. He. Doesn't. Like. You. What don't you get about that? Honestly, I might need to call the police or something to report you-"

"I. Don't. Give. A. Flying. Fuck. You. Dense. Ass. Child." You clapped back, clapping between every word, emphasizing your hate towards her. "You wanna talk about being clingy and obsessed? Really? Because last time I checked, who's the one who constantly follows Ushijima around the court, ignoring everyone else around them? The one who's always rushing over to hover over him to gush about how amazing he is after practice while others pick up your slack?"

Her face turned pink with anger, the flush blocked by the sheer amount of concealer she had on. "Well- you were rejected, yet you still show up around him, to practice and to show the notes to him all cutesy and whatever. You're practically begging for attention." She ticked her head to the side, as if she was saying checkmate.

You doubled over laughing. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes as you wheezed, trying to catch your breath. "Hah... Hah.. Oh my god you are such a little comedian." Wiping away the tears, you stood straight up and finished off your thought. "Showing up to practice and taking notes, putting aside my differences to make sure that the team functions?? Aoi, I'm gonna metaphorically hold your hands while I say this."

I stepped forwards and leaned down, moving my lips close to her studded ears. I lowered my voice, babying my voice to make sure she understood.

"That's what you call being a mature manager. Woahh~~ Whahh~~ Isn't that amazing? Though, if I'm being honest, you probably don't even know what being mature means, so I don't blame you if this completely flies over your head."

You walked past her frozen figure, waving nonchalantly as you passed. "And by the way, to answer your question, I live in the area- in fact, I live right next door to Ushijima. The same place for the past 5 years, so forgive me for intruding on his space or whatever."

On your way out, as you scanned your ingredients by the self-checkout, you caught a glimpse of a softly weeping Aoi and a silent, but furious, Ushijima in the background.

Well, at this point, what do I have to lose? If he's mad at me, I've already accepted that. If he's mad at her, I win.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

When you returned home, you hastened your pace, prepping all the ingredients and efficiently moving around your kitchen to make your cookies as quickly as possible.

Flour, butter, eggs, sugar, jam.

Finally, after an hour, you popped the cookies into the oven, wiping the sweat off your brow in triumph. After setting a timer on your phone, you ran up the stairs and collapsed on your bed.

As you lay there looking out the window, you began to think about what happened just a few hours ago. Oh the rant you were about to go on when you see Semi later tomorrow.

The thought of seeing Semi relaxed you, a heavy weight leaving your shoulder, and now all you were stressing about was to not fall asleep before your cookies were done.

Don't sleep. Don't do it, you're going to burn your whole house down. You'd better not pass the fuck ou-

"Get out."

A voice bellowed from outside your window. You sat up quickly and peered out your curtains. Across the way you could see Aoi and Ushijima arguing in his room. It was hard to hear, and only snippets were caught.

"but-"

"did i stutter? please, get out. i am saying this as nice as I possibly can."

"Toshi- please, she was the one harassing me, I swear!"

"do you think i am that dense? i was in the next aisle, i am not deaf."

Your cookie alarm loudly rang from your pocket while you peeked out the window, scaring you, but also getting the attention from the perfect couple next door. Their heads sharply looked over, but you slammed the window and shades to avoid their gaze before rushing down to take your cookies out of the oven.

phew. at least they came out nice.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

It's a weird feeling, waking up before your alarm.

After dressing up in a nice white top, a jean skirt, and a gray overshirt, you went downstairs to pack your cookies and fruits into a canvas tote before leaving your house to walk over to Semi's place.

"Y/n." Ushijima's deep voice startled you.

"Oh! Good morning, Ushiji-" You started before being cut off.

Ushijima cleared his throat, "You should call me by my first name again. We aren't unfamiliar, after all."

You smiled, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. "Wakatoshi. What's up?"

"You heard, did you not?" His intense gaze wavered for a split second, tilting down towards the curb.

"Well, it was hard not to- though I didn't mean to eavesdrop like I did... Sorry about that, by the way." You sheepishly looked away, struggling to meet him in the eyes.

"It's alright. I should be sorry for the way I've treated you for the past few weeks. I never should have let her blind me into treating you like that. I never thought that her intentions were impure." He looked into your eyes, a light gentleness glazed over his own. "Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

"I can," You began, "and I will, eventually. But I don't think I can just forgive and forget right now, but lets just establish good terms from here on out? I'll let you know when I've healed- emotionally- that is."

"Thank you." He paused before speaking up, "Where are you off to?" looking at your treat stuffed bag.

"O-oh. I'm on my way to visit Semi... I'm running a bit late, so I'll catch you later! Bye Wakatoshi!" You jogged off, quickly making your way over to your destination.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You arrived on Semi's doorstep, but before you rang the doorbell, you tried to catch your breath. However, the door swung open to reveal Semi, draped in a loose gray hoodie and cargo pants. Both of you flushed with embarrassment.

“You… hah… I didn’t even ring the doorbell, Semi-Semi.” You laughed, out of breath, looking at him as he put his hands over his face, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. “Were you waiting for me~”

“N-no-“ Semi turned around, holding the door open to let you in before turning back to dace you, “Well, you were running late, y’see- and, uh, I was worried…” he trailed off after seeing the pouch in your hands. “What’s that?”

You looked down at your hands, “I made cookies for us to eat! Oh!! I also got some fruit for your parents- are they home?” You rummaged through your bag and took a nicely wrapped melon.

“Nah, my parents aren’t home right now… We can just leave it in the basket over there.” He led you to the kitchen and took the melon to store away.

"So... you were waiting for me, weren't you?" You smiled, leaning in close, "I didn't even ring the doorbell- You were definitely looking for me through the window..."

"I- No, It heard your huffing and puffing a mile away-" he stammered, his ears now flaring red. "A-anyways... let's go upstairs- you can bring the cookies with you..."

Following him up the stairs to his room, you noticed all the baby photos adorning the walls, before stopping in front of a familiar one.

Semi heard your steps come to a stop, turning around to join you. "Wow this is so embarrassing- that's from my daycare graduation-" He started, before turning to see your face.

You looked almost startled, "I have this same photo in my house, look-" Your finger pointed at the little girl behind the platinum haired toddler. "In the pigtails behind you-"

"Seriously?" Semi huffed, looking closer at the photo, "Damn, you're right- it really is you."

"Wow Semi-Semi, your hair is naturally this color? I could've sworn you dyed it or something-" You giggled, examining the photo in detail before quietly whispering, "You were a really cute baby."

Semi looked at you with wide eyes. "I heard that-" He coughed out before grabbing your arm and pulling at you to his room. You yelped in surprise, but after walking through the hallway of pictures, you finally made it into his room. It was covered in band posters and at the very corner stood a guitar propped up on a stand.

"Wow- your room is so decorated, it's putting my room to shame," You laughed before plopping onto the floor. Semi picked up his guitar and started to tune it.

"It's nothing special, just some stuff that I've printed throughout the years." He smiled, plucking at the strings before playing some chord progression.

It was almost angelic, the way he played. His fingers danced around the strings so naturally, like he was born to play.

"You play so beautifully," You smiled, looking intensely as he played, "If you put a halo on and wore all white, I could swear you were an angel or something."

"Probably not as beautiful as you are, though." He blurted before catching himself, his fingers frozen in place. "Wait-"

"Really?" Now it was your turn to blush. "Wow Semi, you are such a flirt~" You felt the blood rush to your face while the words fully sunk in.

He cleared his throat. "Uh... Yeah... You are really pretty, did you know that?" His fingers hovered over the strings, almost as if his brain didn't know how to control them anymore.

"You too." You squeaked out, trying to find your voice and composure. "You too, Semi-"

He put the guitar down, and it's hollow body clattering when it hit the floor. "I like you." He smiled shyly, not sure what to say next. "I really really like you."

You shuffled, closing the distance between the two of you. "Me too." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. "I really really like you too."

Both you and Semi sat in silence for a while, though the room kept getting warmer and warmer.

"O-oh!" You exclaimed, stopping the stagnant silence. "The cookies! Uh- Really good! Eat-"

Good job, Y/n, really, really good job.

Semi, in a state of panicked eagerness, grabbed one and practically swallowed it whole before choking a bit. He pounded his chest, tears watering in his eyes.

"Ah!! Water- Water!" You scrambled, pulling out the thermos in your bag.

Semi quickly took the bottle and gulped down the water, sighing in relief after the cookie passed through.

"Are you okay?" You exclaimed, the panic leaving your body. Semi nodded in embarrassment.

"Yeah... it was really tasty- the choking was my fault."

"No, I should have warned you that it was the crumbly kind of cookie." You paused, before buckling down laughing. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gasped for air.

Semi started to laugh, and soon the silence and panic was replaced with cackles.

"Hah... this is gonna be a good story to tell everyone." You sighed, calming down and leaning on his shoulder.

"Yeah...." Semi smiled, resting his head on yours, grasping your hand and interlacing your fingers.

"Wait-" he froze. You looked at him, puzzled by his reaction. "No we can't tell anyone- Especially not Tendou- I can't take the embarrassment any further."

You giggled, looking up at Semi through your eyelashes.

"No promises."

AN: omg this took so long haha my bad yall, hope u liked it :)

masterlist || request

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒.𝐌𝐆 ♡

Intoxicated

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Your friend needed your help with trying out one of her experiments, and let's just say Mingi was about to never let you leave the bedroom ever again because of it.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.21k 

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Wolf Au. Fantasy. Suggestive.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Wolf!Mingi x Wolf!Reader [Mates] 

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Scenting. Lowkey scent play. Mention of glands. Pet names. Heavy manhandling. Mingi has kinda lost his mind from lust. Oral. The reader is literally littered in teeth marks and hickeys (whoops). Unprotected sex. Videoing. Sex tape. Swearing.

Thank you, @hwasangelbaby, for requesting Mingi for this day... I'll miss you. ♡

Note : Hi. So I've been hit with some sickness over night and I didn't get time to finish this but I wanted to post something. So I'm sorry that I'm leaving you all high and dry. I promise the next one will be good. ♡♡♡

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“Just try it, trust me.” The voice of one of the she-wolves replayed in your head as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You had just had a shower, getting ready for the day when you were reminded of the perfume that was given to you for an experiment. You see Dove, the she-wolf, had been learning potion-making from Yeosang, and had asked you to be a test subject. At first, you said no, because let's face it, you weren't about to take something that could possibly hurt you, curse you or kill you. But after she explained herself, you decided to help her. So here you standing with a suspicious perfume in your hand, placing it slowly on the spots she mentioned, ‘Place it on your glands, wrists and just behind your ear’.

“Okay…” You sighed to yourself, rubbing in the liquid. Now, what might this do, you may ask, according to Dove it was a pheromone enhancer, a chemical to open your mating glands and potentially helps you find your soul mate quicker. But before Dove gives this to an un-mated creature, she wanted to see if mates would still become more crazed by said smell. So she asked you, since you were mated to Song Mingi, one of the guards and a member of the leader circle, she knew his reaction would be worth it.

Mingi was expected home any minute, and honestly, you were shaking with nerves. You didn’t know what the smell would do and worry clouded your judgement. And what’s worse was you couldn’t smell it yourself. Since the liquid was unscented and only activated with your scent you have no clue what it smelt like on yourself since it's your own scent. So you sat in your matching shorts and shirt PJ set with little pink hearts as buttons on the front of it. Your fingers were tangled in the hem of your shorts fiddling with the fabric until you suddenly heard a deep voice echo through the home.

“Darling I’m Hom―.” He quickly cut himself off at the sudden whiff of the most intoxicated, sweet scent. It was like his brain cut off, leaving one the animal nature conscious. He began to stalk the bedroom. You couldn’t hear a thing given he was like a silent stalker, only letting his prey know he was there when it was too late.

“Mingi...Is that you?” You gulped having heard your lover's voice before it was strangely cut off. Was he okay? Can he already smell you? What if he left thinking it smelt bad? A million reasons slipped in and out of your mind making you go to stand up but before you could do anything a large snarl and broad figure appeared in the bedroom door frame. “M-Min…”

Mingi rumbled lowly, making your wolf cry out for his. You instantly felt the urge to strip yourself for him, let him have his way with you. But you stayed still awaiting for your lover to speak. He took only three large steps to reach you on the edge of the bed. You could finally see his features and it only made you whimper seeing his eyes were pitch. Dark with lust, and his nose flared taking in more of your scent. Your hand slowly moved to grab his and the minute your fingers grazed his palm he snapped. His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up while his other arm gripped around your waist, holding your body flush against him. His nose brushes against your bond mark, the mark that symbolizes you were his and he, yours. He took a big inhale, taking in your new enhanced scent.

“My pretty little wolf.” was all he said before gripping the front of your top and ripping all the buttons open, making them scatter everywhere. His mouth latches onto your mark, biting down, hard, making you scream out in the sudden painful pleasure. He grunted against your skin pulling away to see a new mark on top of the old scared one. He wanted to do it more, make you riddled in his love bits, hickeys…. teeth marks. The sheer idea of his teeth marks all over your smooth figure made his blood go straight to his cock. “Mine.”

He lifted you up to kiss along your bare collarbone, nibbling slightly on the top of your exposed beasts. You were standing on your tiptoes so he could reach your nipples, suckling them with care. To say you were in an awkward position was an understatement but you stayed like that purely for Mingi’s pleasure and as his hands snaked onto either side of your hips letting him rut his erection against your tummy. You knew you needed to move. “Min..B-bed.”

He grunted in response, removing his lips from you, lifting his hands onto his own hips so he could watch you crawl onto the bed. You never broke eye contact with him, slipping off your shorts and panties, you spread your legs so he could get a good view of your soaking core. His eyes danced over your body feeling proud of the hickeys he had left on your chest and neck, but he needed more. More bites, make you covered in him. He pounced on you in an instant, biting any part of skin he could reach in a short amount of time. He sinks his teeth into your flesh, sucking lightly, then licking the wound before moving on. Repeating that process over and over until you were covered in bite marks and harsh red love bites everywhere. “Mingi…Mingi please.” You squirmed, feeling the soreness of the bites but you couldn’t have it any other way. The feeling of each mark aching and the desire to show them off to the world made your head spin.

“My little wolf. So pretty, all marked up.” He bent down to give your thighs a soft kiss, but his hunger surged through him and your scent was driving him crazy. You whimpered feeling his hot breath pool against your pussy. You didn’t realize he was so close to your core until his hot tongue licked a long strip along your folds. “Yours so wet and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You enjoy being covered in my marks. You a dirty little girl hmm?”

His words made your head spin and his lips on your sensitive bud made you lose control. “Mingi, please. just fuck me, do something p-please.”

He chuckled sitting up, letting you go, so he could sit on his calves staring at you. “My god, as if you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” He leaned over your frame grabbing your phone off the counter before opening the camera. “I wanna remember these marks, so when they’re healed I can mark you up. Again….” He took a photo, “And again...” He unzipped his jeans letting his cock out so it could brush against your puffy pussy, then he presses record. “and f-fuck again…” He sunk deep in your cunt groaning out while he recorded his cock slipping in and out. He kept the camera on the way your chest bounced and the marks and hickeys painting you like an art piece.

His art piece.

- ♥︎

[springgirlshowers]

You’re A Dream, A Burning Star

Summary: A small musician at a venue in Berlin catches Joosts eye, after speaking to her, neither would never expect the next few months to be so intense.

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

WC: 8016

CW: drinking, shitty boyfriends, kissing, yelling, arguing, actually proofread for once, tbh this whole fic is a rollercoaster of emotions…strap in

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS!!! this has probably been the most fun one to write n my longest fic yet, hope it breaks your heart and mends it all at the same time <3 *songfic heavily inspired by this evil ass song*

Sometimes while traveling, Joost would like to go out to smaller venues and watch other live shows of performers he’s never heard of.

The one he was going to tonight, he had already had a show booked there tomorrow night.

He just wanted to get an idea of what it would be like inside, sure he saw the photos of it, but he always preferred seeing things in real life.

The line up tonight was two opening acts, then the main one at a small venue and bar.

The first opening act was your name. He thought it was pretty. As he stood to the side, beer in hand. He watched you enter the stage, obviously nervous.

A pretty face to match a pretty name.

You talked kindly yet a bit frightened into the microphone. You were a bundle of nerves, apologizing for your awkward and nervous behavior, and explained that you were still getting used to these crowds.

He thought it was cute in a way, it reminded of himself when he was just starting out as well.

You talked to the crowd in between your songs. Asking how everyone was feeling and how their night was going, earning cheers from the crowd.

Joost watched as your eyes darted around the crowd as you sang, not in a way of you were trying to let everyone have your attention, but in a way of you were searching for someone.

Eventually your eyes gave up looking and you closed them instead, staring at the crowd for too long would make you even more nervous.

Joost felt like you casted a spell on him the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your lips moved as you sang sweetly into the mic, the way your hands moved so smoothly across the strings on your guitar, the way you swayed back and forth, how your eyes glistened in the light.

You had him in a trance.

After your short set was done, you exited the stage in such a polite manner. Thanking the crowd repeatedly before grabbing your guitar and case in an organized manner.

Joost would spend the next twenty minutes trying to find you. He knew it seemed a little weird to see you on stage and spend the rest of the night looking for you, like some obsessed fan.

But something in him was aching for him to talk to you.

When he found you, you were leaning against a back wall, watching the end of the second opening act.

Joost came up to you and suddenly he felt as nervous as you looked on stage.

You squinted your eyes at the blonde man for a split second. You had seen him from somewhere.

“I just wanted to say you did amazing on stage. It’s like you casted a spell on the crowd.” The validation made you smile.

“I’m not sure if they were really there for me, I was just the opening act.” You gave him a small shrug in response, too nervous to keep eye contact for long.

“A good amount of people seemed interested. Me included.” He nodded reassuringly.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, but I need to work on my stage presence, I’m moderately good at it.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He said blankly.

“What would you say then?” You questioned, tapping your fingers on your glass.

“I’d say you're exceptional.” A grin slowly took up your face, making your eyes shut and cheeks blush, you looked away.

“That’s a bit of overstatement. I messed up on my third song.” You shrugged, looking down at the cup in your hands. You’ve never gotten so many compliments in a single minute, in your mind you had to double down and keep yourself humbled.

“I didn’t even notice. I thought you sounded perfect.” He said blankly, unbothered.

“That’s very sweet of you…uh, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I’m Joost.” He looked puzzled as your jaw dropped, eyes lighting up.

“Now I know where I recognized you from! I’ve heard of you!” You pointed at him.

“You have?” Joost looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, I heard your little song that you did with that guy with the goggles.” You giggled and made a gesture to your eyes.

You were so nice. Joost was praying that was the only song you heard by him and not any of his other popular ones with…suggestive lyrics.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty popular isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. God, you were so sweet. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You looked at your phone again, seeing if there were any new notifications for a text from your boyfriend. There was nothing. You let out a dissatisfied breath and turned it off.

“Are you alright? Are you waiting for someone?” Joost asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

“Uh, yeah. My boyfriend said he would show up tonight but I haven’t seen him. I’m wondering if he even bothered to show up at all.” You muttered your last sentence out, still looking around to see if he was there.

Joosts heart fell to his stomach. Of course a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend. You were talented, kind, and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

He stayed silent, giving you a sympathetic frown.

“Anyways, is that why you’re here in Berlin? Your song?” You pipped, changing the subject in hopes to get rid of the knot in your stomach.

“How do you know I’m not from Berlin?” He teased, narrowing his eyes.

“You have a different accent. You pronounce words differently. Plus, we’re talking in Dutch. I’m guessing either you’re from Belgium or the Netherlands.” You shrugged.

“Netherlands.” He nodded, your eyes lit up.

“I knew it! I’ll be there in a few months actually!” You exclaimed happily.

“Really? For tour?”

“Oh not for that. It’ll be over by then.” You waved your hand. “A label in Amsterdam reached out to me and I think I’m gonna take the offer.”

“That’s amazing!” He exclaimed, his face filling up with joy, then he cleared his throat. “Is your boyfriend moving with you?”

Your happy expression faltered, looking down at your drink nervously.

“Um, well he doesn’t think he can. With work and all, but we’re just gonna do long distance.” You pipped, though you tried your best to put on a mask of happiness, the hesitation in your voice was obvious.

Before Joost could get a word out, a male voice was calling your name from the crowd.

A slender man appeared, black hair and tall but shorter than Joost. He ran over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Speak of the devil Joost thought to himself, assuming this was your boyfriend with the way you looked at him.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m so sorry I got caught up with…stuff.” He attempted to give you a kiss on the lips, you accidentally moved your head in time for it to land on your cheek. “When do you go on?” He nodded to the stage.

“My set ended twenty minutes ago, Leon.” You said softly, the hurt and gloom prominent in your voice with your pouty face.

“Really? I thought you didn’t go on til later?” He said surprised, Joost could see through his act.

“I texted you the time I would be going on.” You trailed off, rubbing your arm for comfort.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”

“It’s fine.” You said sadly, “I’ve already made a friend, this is Joost!” You gestured to Joost. Leon quickly took a protective stance, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

He was oblivious to the way you tensed up, Joost wasn’t however.

“Hi.” Joost gave a tight lipped smile, feeling the tension in the air.

“Joost makes music as well! He’s been doing it longer than me though.” You pipped, trying to continue on the conversation, slightly leaning away from Leon’s touch.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m gonna go get a drink, do you wanna come with me?” Leon looked down at you.

“Oh, I’m fine right here. I already have one anyway.” You said happily, unbothered. Leon let out an annoyed breath.

“Why don’t you just come with me.” He spoke, more of a demand than a suggestion. You repeated your first previous sentence and shook your head. Leon removed his arm from around you, grabbing onto your upper arm with his hand, attempting to pull you with him.

“Come on, lets go.” He sounded like an angry father.

“I said I didn’t want to! I’m fine right here, Leon.” You shouted, wriggling your arm out of his grasp.

“Fine, whatever.” He muttered something else as he walked away. You rubbed your upper arm, ignoring the red fingerprints from how rough he was.

“He seems like a jerk.” The words were leaving Joosts mouth before he could realize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be judging your relationship.” He blinked repeatedly and shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away what he said.

“No, it’s fine. He’s just a bit stubborn and short-tempered sometimes.” You sighed. “So what brought you to this place?” You changed the subject again, wanting to move on.

“Oh, um, I'm performing here tomorrow night, so I’m just getting an idea of what it’s like here tonight.” He shrugged.

“That’s so cool! Maybe I’ll show up and see you.” You suggested, Joost felt anxiety fill him up. His music was the complete opposite to yours.

“Oh no, you don’t have to, I don’t think you’d like mine. It doesn’t seem your style.”

“How do you know? I like trying new things.” You narrowed your eyes at him, playful look on your face.

“Fine. You know what, I’ll get you a backstage pass too so you’re not stuck with the sweaty crowd.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You laughed, the butterflies in Joosts stomach started fluttering again.

Noticing that Leon was taking a bit long to simply order a drink, you craned your head towards the bar, he wasn’t there. You pulled out your phone to text him.

Where’d you go??

Went back to my place. I got to work early tomorrow.

“What happened?” Joost asked, looking at the frown that appeared on your face.

“My boyfriend left. He was supposed to be my ride home.” You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “I’ll just take an uber or something, that’s how I got here.” You sighed.

“I could drive you.” Joost blurted out. “I’m not drunk at all, I promise. I’ll walk in a straight line if you need me to.” You chuckled at his offer.

“I’d really appreciate that. I’ll give you some money for the gas you waste on me.” You half jokingly said, already reaching for your wallet. Joost waved a dismissive hand.

“No, no. You don’t have to. You won’t be wasting anything. You can pay me back by showing up tomorrow.” He cut off your protests.

“Deal.” You smiled.

Joost made you let him hold your guitar case as you left the bar, he put it in the backseat of his car. He opened the door on the passengers side for you, which was much more than Leon ever did for you.

The drive to your house was awkward, a bit silent, the only noise being the robotic voice telling the directions to your place on the GPS.

When you reached the parking lot, before opening the door you stopped and turned towards Joost.

“Do you want my number?” Joost nearly choked on his spit at your question.

“W-what?” He sputtered out.

“Do you want my phone number? So you can text me when you’re going on.” You suggested, “Plus, I’d like to be friends too.” You nervously mumbled.

“Are we not already?”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” You shrugged playfully. He grinned and grabbed his phone, opening messages and letting you type your number in, sending a text so you got the notification on your phone.

“Alright, sweet!” You said happily, stepping out the car, then leaning down a bit to look at him in the driver's seat.

“Thank you, a lot. For being so nice to me tonight.” You said, eyes looking around nervously.

“Yeah, yeah of course. You deserve it.” He praised, your cheeks went red and you looked down. He was giving you all the validation no one really ever did. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Joost.” You smiled and closed the door, waving at him as you walked to your apartment. Joost waited until he saw you enter your place and knew you were safe inside.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

You were definitely surprised by Joosts music style. You’d only heard one song of his in the past so you didn’t really know what the rest of his would be like.

It was strange seeing him out there, drinking beer on stage and moving around and singing like a madman as you watched from the side. Was this the same sweet guy you were talking to last night?

You didn’t mind however. His songs were catchy and you liked how he didn’t care about how crazy his stage presence was.

It was funny how you both caught your audience's eyes in different ways.

Joosts music was very hyper, fast, danceable. A microphone and a good DJ was what he used. It got the crowd jumping and chanting with him as he ran around on stage.

While yours was the complete opposite. Your music was a bit smoother, softer, flowy. You had your guitar and a sweet voice. The crowd swayed and mouthed along while you sang and stood on stage.

Joost exited the stage after lots of applause and repeated thank yous.

You felt a bit jealous of Joost, he had a bigger and definitely more interacting crowd than yours. You were grateful for what you got, but there was a small wanting inside you for one like his. Interested and excited. You knew it probably took a while for him to get here, as it does with all artists.

Hopefully one day you’d get a crowd as loud as his.

He ran right up to you, covered in a layer of sweat and chest heaving.

“What’d you think?” He asked, still catching his breath.

“I liked it, I think.” You both laughed. “It’s very…loud. Very crazy. But that’s a good thing, you know how to keep everyone entertained.” You complimented him, it was his turn to blush.

“Crazy. I like that.” He nodded proudly.

You walked over together to an empty spot behind the stage. A fold up table, a cooler of beer and different canned drinks sitting next to you.

“Do you want a beer?” Joost offered, you shook your head, telling him you already had a few.

“Well I’m gonna have more.” He laughed and pulled one out the cooler.

“Did it take you a while to get this big? Like with your career?” You spoke out, he looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda. I already had a small social media following before I started making music. So that helped.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “Why do you ask? Are you worried about yours?” It was like he could read your mind.

“Yeah, a bit.” You looked down at your feet. “I’m just scared I’m never gonna get where I want to be. Like I won’t be good enough for this stuff.” You frowned, Joost did too. He set his beer down on the table behind you.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He spoke softly, he brought his hand up to your chin, lifting it with a hooked finger for you to look at him. You breath hitched at the sudden gentle contact.

“You’re good enough. More than good enough. Exceptional. Remember?” You rolled your eyes at his words, he moved his hands to cup your face. “I’m serious! You’ve got an amazing voice. You’re gorgeous, talented, and kind. That’s the type of musician that this world needs.” His words made you smile and blush uncontrollably.

You muttered a small agreement and looked at each other. His eyes were so beautiful, though they were hidden behind his glasses, you could see the gorgeous shade of pale blue they were. It felt hypnotic.

Before you knew it, he was pulling your face to his, kissing you. You were caught off guard, still for a minute. Then you relaxed.

For a moment you pushed back into the kiss. Finding comfort in his lips against yours and his hands holding your face, you rubbed your hands up his chest as you kissed him back. Mouths parting and eloping each other's lips so passionately.

This was wrong. As you draped your arms around his neck Joost knew it was wrong. You had a boyfriend and he kissed you anyways. He couldn’t help it. You were so soft against him. You kissed back. It was pleasurable for the both of you, but it wasn’t right.

Then realization set in of what you were doing, you quickly pulled away.

You looked at each other, both a bit shocked and breathless.

“Oh…Joost. You’re very sweet but I already have someone. You know that.” You admitted as you let out a nervous breathy laugh.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I got a bit ahead of myself.” He quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. We’re both just drunk and being silly.” You giggled and shook your head.

Joost felt the opposite. He didn’t feel drunk at all, he didn't feel silly. He wanted to do that. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but he wanted to kiss you.

“Yeah, my adrenaline got too high. It was just a..” He let out an embarrassed laugh now too. Looking away and running hand through his already messy hair.

“Heat of the moment type of thing?” Your words were meant to sound like a statement, it ended up sounding like more of a question.

You were both lying. Neither of you were drunk. You both enjoyed it. You both wanted to do it. You both meant to do it. Just guilt and embarrassment got in the way.

“God, I'm sorry. W-we can just act like this never happened.” Joost told you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we can…” You trailed off, you still hadn’t moved your arms. He caught the way you were still gazing at him, eyes flickering to his lips once again.

You cleared your throat and removed your arms from him, crossing them awkwardly.

“Uh, do you need another ride home tonight?”

“Leon’s picking me up, he should be here soon actually.” You shook your head, the guilt starting to become obvious on your face. “I think I’ll just wait outside for him.” You quietly moved past him, looking at the floor.

“I can wait outside with you, for your safety.” He gulped. You turned to him, the corners of your lips slightly curling.

“Are you trying to be my guard dog now?” You joked.

“You could say that, plus I need my after-show smoke.” He shrugged, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully. Then waving a hand for him to come along.

As the night got darker the weather got colder, you stood outside the front entrance of the bar as you waited next to Joost. You took in a shaky breath as another cool gust of wind hit. Crossing your arms over each other, feeling the goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Joost noticed, tilting his head.

“Just a bit.” You tried your best to act unbothered by the wind and what happened a few minutes ago. Joost took off his zip up jacket without a word, holding it out to you.

“No, no, you keep it. I don’t need it.” You waved a dismissive hand. Joost sighed.

“You’re shivering.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You shook your head once again. “Please. I'm still warm from the performance, I'll be fine.” He reassured you, you gave in, taking it and putting it on.

The jacket smelled slightly of cigarettes covered up by fruity cologne. It smelt like him. You felt so comfortable in it then any other clothes you’ve worn.

Joost finally lit his cigarette that had been hanging from his mouth, praying the taste of tobacco would overpower the taste of you in his mouth. It did, somewhat. The taste was still lingering on his tongue.

He made sure to blow smoke in the opposite direction of you, where the wind was going so you wouldn’t get a cloud of tobacco in your face.

You zipped the jacket up as you continued to wait, rubbing your fingers over the rhinestone skull design on it. Smiling.

Leon’s familiar car soon rolled up, parking by the sidewalk.

“You were really great tonight. You were amazing. Exceptional.” You told Joost as you started to slowly move towards your boyfriend's car.

“Thank you.” He was grinning ear to ear.

“Night Joost.” You gave him that signature sweet smile of yours that made him want to melt onto the concrete. He nodded his head and waved as you stepped in the car.

Leon pretended to not see Joost, even though Leon was staring daggers at him. He said nothing to you once you got in until you stopped at the first intersection.

“Any good acts tonight?” He spoke, turning on the right turn signal.

“Oh, yeah. Great ones.”

“That’s great baby, when did you get that jacket?” He took a quick look at your clothes. You looked down, eyes widening for a second.

You were still wearing Joosts jacket. You were wearing another man’s clothes in your boyfriend's car.

“I just found it in the back of my closet the other day.” You shrugged, acting oblivious.

Trying your best to tell yourself it really wasn’t that big of a deal, Joost only gave you his jacket because you were very obviously cold.

It meant nothing. If he hadn’t kissed you, maybe it would’ve meant nothing.

Leon let out a small hum, turning on the radio and saying nothing for the rest of the drive home.

You ended up not seeing Joost for the next four months. You kept in contact over text and one phone call. But you never saw each other in person after that. You never returned his jacket.

For those four months, there was a strange constant yearning, some ache in your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what. Maybe you did know, but just didn’t want to admit it. You convinced yourself it was Leon who you missed, not the other idea you were scared to admit.

Joost had that ache of yearning as well, he knew exactly what. You. He wanted to hear your laugh again, your singing, your voice. He wanted to see your smile, how your cheeks began to ball and blush and how your eyes squinted every time you began to grin.

God, he wanted nothing more but to see you again.

Once you were all settled in your new apartment, with barely any help from Leon, you began to book performances at local bars as you used to do back in Berlin.

Leon promised you he’d be in Amsterdam tonight, he promised he’d be on time and watch your show.

You peeked at the crowd a few minutes before you went on. Looking all over for him, even just a glimpse of him would make you happy. Glad he made it for once. There was no sign.

You pulled out your phone, texting him.

hey where are you??

i go on in like five minutes

are you running late??

A minute before set you got a response, you quickly checked your phone, an instagram notification.

But not from Leon, from Joost. He’d sent a photo. Just as you were about to see what it was, your name was being announced and you had to go on.

The crowd swayed and nodded along to your music. It was nice, you didn’t mind the peaceful crowd, it was what you were aiming for nowadays.

In the middle of one of your shorter songs, you once again started to look around for Leon. You spotted a taller, blonde, man wearing glasses, and hovering over the rest of the crowd with his height.

Joost.

You never told him directly where you were performing, he must’ve seen your name on the list of performers.

You began to smile and giggled for a moment into the mic. That smile and laugh he’s been waiting for what felt like forever to hear again, it made him feel ten times better than he already was.

After several thanks to the audience and putting away your things backstage, you checked your phone once again for any texts from Leon. Still nothing, he hadn’t even read your messages.

You walked out backstage and back into the bar area disappointedly until you saw Joost standing and waiting for you. Two drinks in his hands.

A smile lit up both your faces as you saw each other, yours was weaker than his however, still upset of Leon not showing up.

“Hey! I got you a drink, your mouth is probably pretty dry after all that singing.” He said happily, holding out the drink that was for you.

“Oh God, thank you. I was just about to get one of these.” You grinned as you took your drink from his hand, taking a sip from your straw and letting out a breath of satisfaction at the taste.

“I remember you said that was your favorite, so..” He shrugged and tilted his head as he smiled again. You hoped the dim light in the bar hid the blush taking over your cheeks, he remembered it was your favorite.

That only led you to another saddening thought. Joost remembered more about you than Leon did. He knew your favorite color, favorite drinks, favorite scents, favorite movies, favorite songs of his and yours. If you asked Leon to name any of those, he’d most likely just stare at you and stutter, not knowing.

The problem wasn’t Joost knowing your favorite things and Leon not. It was the fact that Joost remembered. Joost always remembered the times you told him you’d be going on at, or the places you were going to tour, the stories you told, or even the small little details you had in your conversations, that he would bring up in other conversations.

You couldn’t recall a time where you didn’t have to remind Leon multiple times you had a show and giving him the exact address to where it was, just for him to end up there ten or more minutes after your set, or not show up at all. Leon would never buy you your favorite drinks, or even buy you drinks, or buy you flowers, or take you out on dates.

Maybe it was wrong to compare the two men, they both had different lifestyles. But you’d known Joost for just a few months, much less time than Leon, and yet Joost still treated you better than your own boyfriend.

Because he remembered. He actually listened to you.

“You alright?” Joosts voice brought you out of your thoughts, “You looked really sad for a minute there.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m alright.” You waved a dismissive hand, put on your best unbothered expression. It was a weak one.

“You’re not a very good liar. I know somethings bothering you.” He teased, you looked down, deciding if you should try to lie more or tell him the truth, “Did Leon not show up?”

You kept your eyes on the ground and nodded, giving him a sad smile. He let out a coo of sympathy. It made the problem worse since Joost already knew what was wrong, he could read you like a book.

You took in a shaky breath when you tried to speak, you shut your eyes, hoping for the tears building up to subside. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of Joost, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve seen him in person, and he promised he’d be here on time tonight. He won’t answer my texts again, I don’t see him anywhere.” You gestured a weak hand to the bar, no signs of your boyfriend being anywhere in there. Joost made a gloomy face as a few stray tears fell from your eyes, he wanted nothing more to hold you in this moment.

“And he promised to take me to that restaurant I keep talking about afterwards and…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid crying about this.” You looked to the side, wiping the tears away, only for them to be followed by more.

“Hey. You’re not stupid, you were excited about tonight, I’d be disappointed too if a date night like that got canceled. You know, I’d say he’s the stupid one for missing out on a night with you.” Joost leaned in, making you let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, he’s the stupid one.” You sniffled and let out a weak laugh as you patted your eyes. “None of my makeup is smudged right?”

“No, wait actually, there’s like a small streak right here.” He pointed to a spot under his eye, attempting to give you a visual representation of where it was.

You attempted to wipe it away, missing completely. Looking at him for clarification that you got it.

“Uh, no it’s- here, just let me…” He trailed off as he brought his thumb to the mascara streak, gently smudging the stain away.

It was such a simple act of kindness, yet something about it felt so loving, so intimate.

After a few seconds of insanely intense eye contact, Joost cleared his throat and rubbed his hands.

“There. Oh, do you need a ride home tonight?”

“How many drinks have you had?” You half-joked.

“Just this one.” He held up his beer, you narrowed your eyes at him teasingly, which told him you knew he was lying.

“Okay I had another before this, but I’m barely even tipsy.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Fine.” You gave him a teasing smile.

The drive home was quiet as always. Yet there was no awkward tension between the both of you, just a comfortable silence.

Joost offered to walk you to your door for safety reasons of course, you would’ve said he didn’t need to, but he seemed adamant about it.

You let him walk you to the start of the steps instead.

Joost looked at you while you looked at your feet in perfect rhythm, both small smiles on your faces. While looking down, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was watching from your window, a scowl on his face.

You stopped at the foot of the stairs, finally looking up at the blonde boy next to you.

“I think I’ll be okay from here. Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, any time. If you ever need something you can call me.” Joost fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous habit of his that you noticed and found cute in a way.

Both your eyes flickered to one another’s lips, a secret aching to close that gap between them. You took in a deep breath, coming back to the present moment.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you later.” You waved and made your way up the stairs, barely halfway up the stairs he called out your name. You turned with raised brows, a bit confused.

“Um, I just wanted to say…goodnight, Y/N.” Joost gulped, that’s not what he wanted to say.

“Goodnight, Joost.” You said softly, before both headed in the opposite directions.

You unlocked your door with that same feeling of butterflies in your stomach, only for them to go away and be replaced with a tight knot when you saw Leon leaning annoyed against your kitchen counter, a single lamp on in the entire place.

“Leon? What are you-“

“What were you doing with him?” He cut you off, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Don’t act dumb. That fucker you met from the bar, John.” Your eyebrows creased together, confused at the name, then realizing he got it wrong.

“Joost?”

“I didn’t ask for you to correct me. Just tell me why you were with him.” He put his hands on his hips, a defensive stance.

“He was giving me a ride home, since somebody decided to not pick up their phone.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I had a few work calls I needed to make.” He shrugged, unbothered as he told that shitty excuse he always made.

“Yeah. Of course. Work.” You muttered, turning your back to him to take your jacket off.

“Don’t avoid this, you’re always running around with Joost. Have you been messing around with him?”

“No!” You raised your voice, tone filled with disbelief at the fact he would accuse you of cheating.

“Then why are you constantly hanging around him? I see the way you fucking smile and bat your eyes at him.” He pointed a threatening finger.

“Because it feels like he cares about me more than you!” You snapped.

“Bullshit.” Leon scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth. Joost has shown up to more shows of mine than you have! He's always the one who makes sure I get home safe! He’s done a lot more than you ever have.” You lazily gestured at the man in front of you.

“Then why don’t you go fucking go date him! If you love him so much!” Leon threw his arms up in the air.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You huffed, “I’m saying it’s unbelievable that a complete stranger I met at a bar has taken better care of me than you.”

“Bullshit, I’ve taken care of you.”

“When? Tell me a time!” You shouted at him, waiting a second for a response. Nothing.

“You’ve never given me a jacket when I’ve told you I’m cold, you barely ever take me out on dates, you’ve left me at the bar and made me walk home alone in the dark several times, you’ve never waited for me after a show!” You continued on with your rant “You’ve rarely even shown up to any of my shows!” You threw your arms in the air as your voice grew louder.

“I’ve told you before I get busy!” Another meaningless excuse.

“Busy with what? You’ve never given me a clear answer! It’s always just work! Yet there's never a clear reason! Why can’t you just take some time out of your day to come and see me? You didn’t even come tonight! And you’re in the goddamn country!” You were nearly screaming at him.

“Because you act like I could give a shit about your dumb fucking shows! You think I wanted to travel seven hours to see one of your boring sets?” He yelled at you, voice full of disgust.

You moved your head back in shock, jaw ajar and trembling as you tried to find the words. He shook his head and looked away, as if he was disappointed that you were upset.

“If you didn’t wanna see me, then why’d you even bother traveling here?” You stared at him with watering eyes, if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. “You know what, if you don’t wanna see me, you can just get out.” You spat out, embarrassing angry tears starting to stream down your face.

“What?” Leon quickly whipped his gaze back to yours.

“Get out of my apartment! Get out! Get the fuck out!” You were shouting at him and pushing at him repeatedly, all the way into the hallway. He stumbled out.

You didn’t really know where all this rage came from, maybe it was the pent up frustration and anger from all the previous months, all the missed shows and ignored messages.

“You know what, fuck you! We’re over!” He pointed a defensive finger at you.

“We are over, asshole!” You yelled back at him, confused when you saw, his jaw clench angrily as he looked behind you.

You turned your head to see what he was staring at, it was Joost. Standing there with his mouth ajar and surprised eyes. Your face dropped.

Joost was shocked, standing there frozen. It was shocking to hear your usually soft and sweet spoken voice shouting and screaming curses at the man, watching your gentle hands shoving Leon harshly into the hallway.

Leon marched past you, muttering something and hitting Joost with his shoulder as he pushed past him, turning the corner and disappearing.

You and Joost stared at each other. He watched as your face crinkled in sadness and you let out a sob before turning and walking back into your apartment.

You were embarrassed that Joost saw you in such an angry and vulnerable state.

Joost was planning to come back, to possibly make that confession he’s been wanting to admit for months.

Instead watched you scream at your now ex boyfriend and saw you cry. Yet he still jogged over to your door, stopping you from closing it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting his chin down to try and make eye contact.

“I think you should go, Joost.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you stared at his shoes.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I want to be.”

“But you don’t deserve-“

“Joost. Please just go home.” You begged, finally looking up at him with your teary eyes. “Please.”

Though your eyes were puffy, red, and mascara was smudged and stained down your pouty face. Joost still thought you were the most beautiful girl, the most beautiful thing to exist he’s ever seen.

“Okay.” He breathed out, the word barely audible with how soft he spoke.

You mumbled out a thank you and an apology before you shut the door, he heard the locks click and rubbed his hands down his face.

Joost felt horrible for you. He felt ashamed too, like it was his fault in some way. Seeing you in that moment, seeing you like that, all he wanted to do was hold you. Cradle you. Comfort you as you cried.

You wanted the same. Yet, you had no idea why you turned him away, why you isolated yourself tonight. Was that really what you needed? Or just what you wanted?

It was radio silence from you for the next two days. You holed yourself up in your apartment, smothering yourself in blankets and sleeping.

You didn’t know why you were taking the breakup so hard, you were unhappy in that relationship. You felt liberated now, but the harsh words Leon spat out at you hit you hard.

What made it worse was that Joost saw you in such an vulnerable moment. You just felt ashamed and embarrassed.

Joost was nervous, he had another gig tonight that you planned to go to, you said that you would go to it when you found out about it a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t answered his texts, the most you did was open the photo he sent from your last performance. It was a zoomed in photo of you standing behind the curtain, text over it saying:

i see u ^_^

It was silly enough to get a small smile out of you.

Though you said you would show up before, he couldn’t find your face in the crowd anyways. After his show, he texted you, asking you where you were. You gave him a short response:

I wasn’t able to show up tonight. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it there next time hopefully.

Joost frowned to himself, he couldn’t blame nor be mad at you for it. He knew breakups were a tough process, he’s already had his own in the past.

He wasn’t upset, but he wasn’t gonna let you continue to isolate yourself.

Joost rocked on his heels nervously after he knocked on your door, a bottle of wine and a few flowers in his hand.

He did another smell check on himself again, hoping the quick shower he took was enough to wash off the sweat from his show.

He heard the footsteps dragging closer to the other side of the door, a small pause before he heard the lock on the door click.

You opened the door as far as possible until the chain lock stopped it, a very sleepy and gloomy looking you appearing through the gap.

“Joost? What’re you doing here?” You asked tiredly, yawning after you spoke.

“I thought you’d want a small pick me up.” He gave a sympathetic smile, holding up the wine. You stared for a second then shut the door. His face dropped. At least he tried.

Another click and the door slowly opened fully. You leaned against the doorframe lazily. The tear stains on your cheeks were now fully prominent in the overhead lights of the hallway.

“Is that just for me to drink sad and all alone?” You joked, Joost really couldn’t tell if you were.

“Well, we could always share. I won’t pass on wine.” He shrugged. Then letting out a cough as he realized he had forgotten his other gift.

“Oh, I also grabbed these.” He held up the few flowers he had in his fist, “I picked these from the bushes outside, I hope you don't mind. I just didn’t want to show up with only alcohol.” He cleared his throat, the flowers were drooping slightly.

You let out a weak breathy laugh as you took the weak flowers from his hands carefully. You took in a deep breath before moving to the side, giving him a reassuring nod to come in.

You grabbed two glasses out as well as a corkscrew while Joost placed the bottle on the counter.

You both drank in silence for a few minutes, Joost nervously tapped his fingers against his glass.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so depressing.” You trailed off, rubbing the side of your face.

“It’s fine. I know the first week is always the worst.”

“Yeah. I feel like I should be happy, he was an…asshole.” You threw a hand up, letting it fall against the counter. “But I dedicated so much of my time to him, for so long, now it just feels like I…”

“Wasted it?” Joost finished your sentence. You nodded, eyes beginning to water again.

“All I ever wanted was just someone to just…just see me.” You breathed out. “Or just love me. God, I sound so pitiful.” You let out a sad laugh, a stray tear escaping from your eye.

“So many people love you.” He reached out his hand, gently holding yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Like who?” You said before taking another sip from your glass. Joost had already finished his.

Me. Joost wanted to say it so badly, but he didn’t know if it was the right way to say it. He didn’t know if it was the right time to admit it, he never knew when the right time

“More than you realize.” He gave you a reassuring smile, then reached behind with his empty hand feeling for the pack in his pockets. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked for your approval before pulling the pack out.

“Uh, no. You- we can just go out on the balcony.” You pointed to the sliding doors.

“You smoke?” He raised his brows at you, surprised a shy girl like you would pick up that habit.

“No. No. I just don’t want to send you out there alone. I’d rather not be alone here either.” You mumbled the last sentence out before getting up, moving to the doors, unlocking and sliding one to the side.

Sitting in the balcony chair opposite from yours, Joost lit his cigarette, trying his best to blow the puff of smoke that came out in the opposite direction from you.

The air was colder than ever now that it was the middle of January. You zipped up the jacket you were wearing. That same jacket Joost gave outside the venue all those months ago. He never realized you were wearing it until now.

He wondered how many times you’ve worn it since then.

And you never would tell him you’ve put it on more times then you could count, it had become an item of comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to see me in such an ugly moment. I never wanted you to see me like that.” You sighed out, rubbing your arms. He looked at you, eyebrows knitting together.

“It wasn’t ugly.” Joost spoke softly, smoke exhaling from his mouth. You smiled weakly, taking the compliment but not fully believing it.

“I don’t think anyone has been so kind to me. Not in the way you have.” You looked at him, sniffling. Joosts face fell soft, a sad sympathetic expression on his face.

“Nobody ever kissed me like you did.” You blurted out, mouth moving faster than your brain.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Joost was a bit surprised at his own words, the small amount of alcohol in his system being just enough to give him a confidence boost.

It gave you one as well.

You didn’t give him a verbal response, instead you closed that large space in between you and him. Quickly crashing your lips into his as you held the side of his face.

His mouth tasted of mint toothpaste and tobacco, the taste almost felt addicting.

You pulled away, both shocked by your sudden movement. Joost abandoned his cigarette, not even caring to stomp it out. He wrapped one arm around your back, the other carefully placed on the side of your face as he pulled you onto his lap and closed the gap between your lips.

Your mouths eloped each other, passionate and hungry for one another. Your hands were roaming all over both of your bodies, your hands moving to the back of his head and raking into his hair while his rubbed all around your waist, face, and back.

It was messy, so needy. Yet it wasn’t like any other kiss you’ve had, there was friction but it wasn’t because of the lust you both felt for one another.

It was fueled by love.

After a good moment of your lips being stuck together, you both pulled away, breathless, lips swollen, and amazed.

“This is so silly.” You looked down, giggling to yourself, then calming down and looking back up at him. “But I’m not drunk.” Your voice was breathless.

“I’m not drunk either, I wasn’t last time.” He stared into your eyes, looking like he was enchanted by you. He practically was.

“I wasn’t either.” You admitted, you’ve wanted to admit that for so long. That the first time he kissed you, when you kissed back, it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. It was what you wanted, it was what you wanted when you were sober.

“Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?” He chuckled, his hands still holding the sides of your face.

“It only took you four months, but I’m good with the time being now. You’re a good kisser.” You held your hands over his, your eyes watering not out of sadness, but joy.

You gave him one more kiss before wrapping yourself around him, hiding your grinning face in the crook of his neck.

This is where you stayed for most of the night, intertwined with each other in the moonlight.

Such a cliché scene, but this is both what you’ve been yearning for so so long. And now that ache in your chests is gone.

[blingblong55]

Closer -John "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Photo credit for that Ghost work to @ave661

Based on a request: I need smut on Werewolf!Soap and Vampire!Ghost, it keeps me alive and afloat 😔❤️ Closer by Nine Inch Nails A/N: Imagine riding Soap to this song as Ghost's fangs dig into your neck🫠. I mean, you can't convince me they don't have an orgy with this song in the background ---- F!Reader, 18+, MDNI, smut, monster!au, werewolf!Soap, vampire!Ghost, threesome, unprotected!sex, human!reader, dom!Soap, dom!Ghost, sub!reader, blood!play, pup!play/bondage, rough!sex ---- A/N: straight into it so I hope this meets your expectations…

You are straddling Soap's hips on the red velvet sheets that made the bed. Ghost's fangs dig into you as his fat and needy cock gets buried deep inside your tightness. Soap, watching from under you, hands behind his head as with amusement he holds the pink leash that holds your neck close to him.

They were right, a sweet and small little human like you wasn't ready for the punishment your strange neighbours had for you. Your tight and small hole getting fucked relentlessly by Ghost as Soap had you riding his girthy cock. Between praises and slaps you found yourself having your third orgasm of the evening. No one said that pleasing men with great stamina were easy but you can take it, can't you?

The dark walls, filled with old portraits and your soft body adorned the room. Cum leaked from your cunt and tight ass. Your mouth drooling from when Soap began to fill your mouth with his fist. Your tits bounce and occasionally slap on Soap's hard and hairy chest. Growls of excitement and hunger for more of this fuck dinner getting louder. Tears run down your face when the sharp dagger in Ghost's hand rips the thin fabric of your lacy bra. The blade made some blood run down, which only excited Ghost when he watched Soap's finger pick some of the crimson and make you lick his fingers clean.

If only they had told you earlier that they didn't need a good catholic slut to come and collect old Bibles but instead, that they wanted to corrupt your body, blood and those tasty holes of yours.

Blood drunk, that is what Ghost is as he filled your ass with more of his thick seed. Soap pulls on the leash, "Kiss me, slut," he grunts, his cock so deep inside of you that your wet cunt aches. Your lips meet his and his sharp teeth make your sweet mouth leak blood, this only makes Ghost feral.

Both men pounding into you. Their meaty cocks and balls are ready to just fill you up over and over until you learn to not go into strange homes.

Ghost takes hold of your neck, tilting it to the side to get more of that sweet and addicting blood you have.

Soap like the absolute beast he is begins to fight for dominance. Both men laugh as all you can do is control you, their submissive pet reminded of why she is kept alive. And you wouldn't complain, would you?

Ghost almost makes you pass out but before he can, Soap pushes him off, flips himself over and takes you from behind. His balls slapped against your aching cunt as you took his size so well. Just before he slaps that red face of yours, your pretty and tight hole gets stuffed and spread wide by his fat cock that leaks his creamy seed. Your moans and cries of pleasure mixed in with his growls and grunts.

Ghost watches this with amusement, he knows a good girl like you could take a size or two but not something remotely close to Soaps.

Finally, when they undo your wrist restraints and unleash you, both men massage your body. Whispering sweet praises for taking them so well and knowing that they were too pleased, they will certainly ask the priest to let you visit their home for some "prayers".

"Shh, it's okay, you did a good job," Ghost licks and kisses the blood from your body. "Yeah, you did so well for us, lass," Soap wipes the tears from your delicate face.

A/N: Short I know but...it's all my brain came up with

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @vampsquerade @jobug93 @madsnic1119 @luvecarson @bbunni-boo @kay-radioactive @warenai @liyanahelena @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @phantomly27 @lolliepopsicle @imjusthereforkonig @dukeofjjune @strangepuppynightmare @9rutally @creamwhxre @frizzseaberries @missbones02 @moonsua1 @krinoid24 @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @ikohniik @strawberrychita @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @nobodys-coffee @the_royal_bee @soapybutt17

[celestialprincesse]

✨blurb/imagine request✨

i hardly ever see any plus sized reader x 141 men (specifically simon / könig / price) fics, blurbs, or even imagines. If you’re interested i’d love to see what you’d do with it! 💕

(nsfw is more than okay🤭)

Of course I can! I def think Simon looves having a girl w/ some curves! Smt about the softness and femininity of it all drives him feral.

Warnings: afab reader, nsfw (was feeling slutty today 😃)

Simon loves the way you look when you're baking. Loves the way you bop about the kitchen to the quiet sound of your playlist, swaying your hips to the beat of every song. You get in the zone, and he gets a show that has his dick getting hard in his pants.

He'd no idea what you were concocting today. Something French by the sound of it. Admittedly, he cared more about the way the plush flesh of your ass jiggled as you leant over the counter to roll out the pastry than whatever fancy dessert you'd come up with today. The sight of you vaguely reminds him of a painting he'd seen in secondary school once. Something about Venus. To him you're so much more though - you're Venus and Saturn, Mars and Jupiter. You are his entire universe.

There's something about the softness and warmth of you that drives him insane. Of course, he thinks that lots of women are beautiful, muscular, slim, tall or small. There's something about you, though, something about every soft dip and curve of your body. You're the picture of health, soft with every hearty, home cooked meal and sweet dessert made and perfected with hours of practise, concentration and love.

When the already short material of your skirt rides up? He's a goner. Thick arms looping around your waist have you giggling, leaning your head back into the crook of Simon's neck, inhaling the residual scent of yesterday's cologne and that deliciously clean, post shower smell. "What y'making?" Soft muscle and warm skin reverberate against your back as he speaks low in your ear, peppering kisses down the column of your neck whilst his hands find their way up your shirt. The way your back arches against him, pressing your ass into his crotch as he grabs a handful of your tits and squeezes softly, he's convinced there's no better feeling in the world. "Mille Feuille." You mumble breathily back as Simon nudges your lower back so that you're leaning a little further over the counter, leaving prints of your boobs in the flour you'd sprinkled on the counter so your dough didn't get sticky. "Mille Feuille." He rumbles back, lips brushing your ear as his free hand travels down your stomach, between the soft warmth of your thighs, thumb brushing teasingly over your panties.

You inadvertently clench your thighs around Simon's hand, body stuck between whether or not it likes the intrusion, and from the wet lace of your panties, you're pretty sure it's trying to keep him there. The audible squelch of your panties when Simon pushes his middle and ring finger up against your folds has you blushing, trying to escape where he's got you pinned at the hips over the counter, only receiving a tsk from Simon as he ruts his cock against your ass. "Bend over proper for me baby, yeah?" He coos, gently pushing you down by the back of your neck so that your cheek presses against the cool marble of the countertop. "Tha's it. So, so pretty f'me. So good, yeah?" Is what accompanies the back of your skirt being flipped up, your ruined underwear pushed dismissively to the side.

A whimper gets lost amongst the sound of Simon's belt being unbuckled, with one hand at that, seeing as the other is running his fingers through your folds, collecting the glossy slick that's already leaking from your hole. The way your pussy flutters around nothing just from the thought of his actions behind you is shameful, but Simon likes it. When Simon's cock juts carefully between your thighs, his hips bumping against your ass, you go completely blank, a fucked out look on your face without him even having gone inside yet. "You like that baby? Yeah?" His tone has you nodding dumbly, your hand not supporting your head coming to rub impatiently at your clit, mewling softly as you buck your hips up against him. "So needy f'me already." Accompanies the sound of a breathless moan, like you've had all the air punched out of you when Simon notches the weeping head of his cock up into you. The angle has you gasping, hands gripping at the unyielding counter as you attempt to steady yourself against his gradually roughening thrusts. "Fuck, Si." You cry out as his dick pushes against your cervix, his dark gaze probing, fiercely intense as you pant and whine. "Thaaaats it." Is groaned gently into your ear as you take the entirety of his length with a weak cry.

Simon's pace is punishing, more so that he can watch the way your ass jiggles with every hard snap of his hips than because he means anything by it. The way you whine and mewl is only an added extra. He knows when you're about to cum, by the way you grow breathless, eyes rolling back and pussy practically sucking his cock up, greedy thing. With a few last thrusts, and a slap of your butt for good measure, you keen out, Simon's own eyes rolling back when he feels the warm wash of your cum around his cock. It doest take long for him to ride out his own orgasm, pressing his chest down against your back, his head into the crook of your neck as he spurts thick, hot cum right up into the plug of your womb.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Not proof read at all !! Trying to get a lil better at writing smut 🫠 N e ways!! Enjoy!!

[luna0713hunter]

Dancing to the beat of our hearts

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : being Zoro's lover,was a dream come true. Everything was perfect about him,but...when the night comes and you see couples dancing,you cant help but to wish for more...

Warnings : none, slightly hurt/comfort,Zoro being a simp for you,soft Zoro, FLUFF,gender neutral reader

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"ANOTHER VICTORY FOR STRAW HATS!!!CHEERS!!!"

Luffy's excited shout echoes through the night,as everyone cheer and down their drinks. All around you,people were celebrating,and happily serving you and your crewmates drinks after drinks.

You and your crewmates had managed to save yet another village from pirates,and it was time to celebrate.

Everything about this village was absolutely beautiful;from the cherry trees that had blossomed just recently,making the scenery breathtaking,to its kind and warm-hearted people who knew nothing but how to love and be happy.

They apparently,also loved to dance.

When the song changes to something soft and more melodic,you watch from your place across the bonfire how couples start to gather around;hands being placed on shoulders and arms around waists. You watch and sip your suddenly too bitter drink as they dance,and the sound of their laughter fills the air.

Your eyes wander to the green haired man sitting next to the open bar across you,and your lips pull down to a frown;Zoro didnt like to dance.

You loved Zoro,of course you did,but ever since you two became a couple...things didnt get too different between the two of you.

Obviously there were small kisses here and there,and Zoro became even more protective of you if that was even possible,but you craved real romance. Like the ones you would see young couples do,or read in the books; running under the rain while laughing,going shopping or matching clothes,and of course, dancing .

You could've made a list of the dances you wished to have with Zoro on so many occasions,but you never asked. You knew Zoro;he wasnt a big fan of showing his affection openly,always choosing to show his love to you through his actions. So it didnt take a genius to guess he would absolutely rather die than to dance.

You swallow the lump in your throat and stare down to your drink. You weren't even sure what it was; probably something light since you weren't feeling even slightly drunk. Something sweet. Maybe cherry? It sure had a good smell to it. As you swing the last of your drink around the glass,you make a mental reminder to tell Sanji to get some with you back to the ship. A small smile graces your lips as you think about sailing tomorrow morning once again with your new family,but the happiness is short lived as a bitter feeling fills your chest and you find yourself blinking rapidly in hopes of not bursting in tear right there.

Was it too much to ask to have a romantic love life?

As you start to wonder whether to return to the Going Merry or ask the musicians to play some other song,a small tap on your shoulder makes you jump in your sit slightly. You turn your head,and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

At first, Zoro's eyes search yours for a second,before jerking his head toward the back,where the road leads to the cherry garden.

"come with me for a second."

you silently nod,and accepting his offer to help you stand,you take his much larger hand in yours and make your way toward the garden. And when you finally step inside,you let out a loud gasp.

You dont think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life;the way the petals of the cherry blossoms dance in the air and settle on your hair,the air having the sweet smell of the drink that you had earlier,and the moon shining the brightest you've ever seen-

And none of them could compare to the picture Zoro was making.

You've always loved Zoro;ever since the very first moment you saw him,the first time he smiled at you,and the first time he held your hand. You loved Zoro,and you believed with your soul that there was no one prettier than him.

But now,as you watch the flower petals dancing around him,and the moonlight shining on his green air as he stares at you with the softest look on his face,you cant help your heart from beating awfully faster.

You loved Zoro. And gods above,he was the most beautiful being in the whole universe.

You're so busy admiring his features that when his fingers brush against your cheek,you jump slightly. Zoro raises his fingers up to you hair,and you feel him pluck something out.

When he lowers his hand,he shows you a small cherry blossom that was trapped in your hair. And in that moment,when he raises it up to his lips,you swear the time stops all together.

Zoro closes his eyes as his lips make contact with the flower,and he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.

"y/n," he puts the flower in the pocket right over his heart and as he takes hold of your hand,with the sound of his three swords clanking together,he kneels right in front of you. Your gap at him,and you're torn between laughing and kneeling as well.

"Zoro,whats going on?"

Zoro scowls at you.

"what does it look like I'm doing?"

"proposing?!"

"no," Zoro deadpans,and your face visibly falls, "that has to be special. Not out of blue."

Your face brightens and small laugh escapes from your lips

"then,whats going on?"

And for the very first time since meeting him,he actually looks embarrassed.

You didn't know he could feel that kind of emotion

"I'm planning to ask you for a dance,if you let me finish."

When your mouth slams shut,he sighs and unconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your heart flutter at how comforting he can be even when he's not realizing it.

"Babe,i know I'm not the most romantic person in the whole world," when you let out a snort,he scowls again, "but i promise,its not because i dont love you."

He slowly raises to his feet once again,and gently leans his forehead against yours.

"i know i dont say it enough,but i love you." His hand find your waist,as your arms wrap his neck;your eyes shining with unshed tears, "and i will continue loving you until my last breath."

You let out a small sniffle when he kisses your wet eyelashes.

"sounds pretty much like a proposal to me."

"oh,babe,i promise you that after my proposal, you'll cry your eyes out."

You tug at his short hair and give him an unimpressed look.

"you're making my heart beat with your smooth talk,Zoro. Keep it up and you'll no longer have a lover to propose to."

And when he laughs quietly,you cant help but to pull him down for a kiss.

The sound of the music in the background,makes everything feel surreal. The way Zoro holds you so gently,and his lips moving against yours with urgency,reminds you how passionate he can be. And its right there,that Zoro reminds your how much he actually loves you.

The sound of the music is still audible in the background,so when he starts swinging you side by side,you cant help the giddy laugh that escapes you. Zoro gives you a gentle smile,and kisses your forehead.

"from now on,tell me what you desire. I'll make all your dreams come true."

And when you raise your head to lock your lips with his once again,a small whisper leaves your lips.

"dont worry. All my dreams had already came true the moment i laid my eyes one you."

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.s : thank you everyone for 400 followers!!!

[cheynovak]

 Something fragile

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N        

Warnings: Toxic masculinity, cursing, violence, alcohol drug use, cursing, mentioning of sex, I think that’s it? ... 

Side note: English isn’t my first language 

Words: 6600  

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

--  

Soldier boy just got out of Russia thanks to the boys. But his journey back to reality has been fucked up. Streets are filled with rainbow colours and new pussy looking heroes. Streets were even more crowded, nothing seemed the same anymore. And to top it all off he had some severe ptsd and a new superpower. 

After the explosion he ran to recover his blackout, meeting y/n a young woman on her way home from volunteering at the veteran shelter. Seeing how he looked confused, offering him help.  

-- 

Ben, known to the world as Soldier Boy, stumbled through the bustling streets of downtown New York. The sun was blinding after so many years in the dark, cold confines of a Russian facility.  

Forty years of captivity had left his mind in a haze, his body in a state of perpetual tension. Every sound, every face, was an assault on his senses. He blinked against the garish lights of electronic billboards and the incessant buzz of smartphones.  

People moved past him in waves, their faces buried in glowing screens, oblivious to the world around them. Ben felt like he had stepped into a dream, a strange, incomprehensible dream. As he walked, his eyes darted from one unfamiliar sight to another.  

Men holding hands, walking side by side with easy intimacy. Ben's lips curled into a reflexive sneer. He couldn't help it; the world he had known was gone, replaced by something that felt alien and uncomfortable.  

The 1980s had their problems, but this? This was beyond his understanding. He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. The memories of his captivity were like shadows, lurking at the edges of his mind, ready to pounce the moment he let his guard down. He had to stay focused, had to keep moving.  

As he passed a café, the smell of coffee and pastries wafted out, mingling with the scents of car exhaust and city grime. Ben's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He paused, glancing around warily, wishing he had a few dollars in his pocket.  

Lost in thought, a voice pulled his attention away from the widow. "Excuse me, are you okay sir?" Ben looked up to see a young woman with concern in her eyes. "Yeah" He wanted to walk on. “Are you eh, hungry or thirsty something?” Ben looked confused at her. “I can get you something if you want?” she added in a sweet voice. 

“Let a woman buy me a fucking coffee? What a fucking pussy would that make me.” and he walked on. 

Ben continued down the street, the sights and sounds of the modern world were overwhelming, a constant reminder of how much time had passed and how out of place he was. As he walked, a familiar melody reached his ears. It was faint, but unmistakable, the haunting strains of a Russian folk song that had played endlessly in the lab where they had experimented on him.  

The song was a cruel reminder of his years of suffering, a soundtrack to his nightmares. His pulse quickened, and his vision blurred. The world around him seemed to tilt, and he could feel the panic rising, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.  

The radiation within him, the cursed gift of his captivity, began to stir, responding to his heightened emotional state. Suddenly, without warning, a burst of energy erupted from his chest. The street around him exploded in a violent flash of light and heat. The force of the blast shattered windows, sent cars flying, and threw pedestrians to the ground.  

Screams filled the air as chaos erupted. Ben staggered, disoriented and horrified by the idea what he had done. He had no control over this power, no way to stop it once it started. The destruction was immense, and he could hear the wails of the injured and the dying.  

His heart pounded in his chest. Y/N heard the explosion and felt the shockwave. She had been walking away from the café, thinking about the troubled man she had just met. When she saw the devastation and the panicked crowd, her first instinct was to help.  

She pushed her way through the throngs of fleeing people, her heart racing with fear and determination. She spotted him through the smoke and debris, standing in the centre of the chaos, looking lost and broken. She rushed to his side, her eyes wide with shock at the scene around her.  

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. The heat radiating from his body made her flinch, but she didn't back away. "I... I didn't mean to..." Ben stammered, over and over. Y/N looked around, her mind racing. She had to get him away from here, away from the people he might hurt.  

"We need to get you out of here," she said firmly. "Come with me." Ben nodded, dazed and compliant. He allowed her to lead him away from the scene of destruction, away from the horror he had unleashed. They ducked into an alley, where the noise of the city was slightly muffled, and Y/N took a moment to catch her breath.  

"Listen," she said, her voice urgent but calm. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're not alone, okay? I'll help you." Ben looked at her. "Why are you helping me?" "Because you need it," Y/N replied simply. "And because everyone deserves a chance."  

Ben nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and fear still heavy on his shoulders. Y/N supported Ben as they walked through the quieter streets, her arm around his waist to steady him. His weight pressed heavily against her, but she didn't falter. She was determined to help him, no matter what it took.  

The path they took was familiar to her, one she had walked many times on her way to the veteran help centre where she volunteered. The centre was closed at this hour, but Y/N had a key. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before unlocking the door and guiding Ben inside.  

The cool, dim interior was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a sanctuary from the madness of the world. "Sit here," Y/N said softly, helping Ben into a chair in the small break room. She quickly moved to the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the cupboards.  

She handed them to Ben, who took them with trembling hands. "What's this shit?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. But still opening the drink. Y/N sat across from him, ignoring his muttering complains, watching as he opened the bottle and took a sip. She could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the lines of pain and weariness that spoke of years of torment.  

"You're safe here," she said gently. "Take your time. Eat something.” Ben’s eyes fixed on her. He unwrapped the granola bar and took a small bite, chewing slowly. The simple act of eating seemed to ground him, to bring him back from the edge.  

"Why are you helping?" he said after a moment. "You don't even know me."  

"I know enough," Y/N replied. Ben leaned back in the chair, the weight of his ordeal starting to lift, if only slightly. He looked around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the pamphlets about support groups and therapy sessions.  

His expression hardened, and he scoffed. "What kind of shit is this?" he muttered, pushing the granola bar away. "A place for vets who have difficulties getting back to the real world." Y/N answered ignoring the disgusting look on his face. "For who can’t handle their crap? PTSD, trauma... that's for fuck-ups who can't cut it. Real men don’t need this kind of help."  

Y/N sighed, her patience unyielding. She had encountered this attitude before. She knew it was a defence mechanism, a way to mask vulnerability. "What's your name?" He didn't answer, "I'm Y/N..." she said hoping he would be willing to answer if she took the first step. "Ok doll." was all he said, she didn't push further.  

"PTSD is real. It doesn’t make you weak or a 'fuck-up.' It means you've been through something traumatic, something no one should have to face alone." Ben’s eyes flashed with anger. "I've faced plenty alone and survived. Don't need a bunch of pity and hand-holding to get by." " 

I’m not offering pity," Y/N said firmly. "I’m offering support. There’s a difference. Some have been through hell, and it's okay to need help coming back from that." Ben clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable.  

"You don't get it," he snapped. "I was a soldier. I fought, bled, and survived on my own. This..." he gestured around the room “... this is for people who can't handle the easy world." Y/N met his gaze steadily.  

"Maybe you did survive on your own, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it alone. Needing help doesn’t make you less of a man. It makes you human." He looked away, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.  

"You don't know what it's like. What they did to me..." "No, I don't," Y/N admitted. "But I do know that what you're feeling is valid. And that this place exists because too many people try to do it alone and end up hurting themselves or others."  

Ben shook his head, "Bullshit" Y/N looked him in the eye. "Is it? Didn't you just blow up in the middle of the street? Literally?" He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for some kind of hate or reluctance, maybe even fear but all he saw was reassurance, patience. 

Ben stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His movements were restless, his mind clearly in turmoil. He began to walk toward the door, but Y/N called after him, her voice gentle but firm.  

"Wait. If you ever feel like talking, or just need a place to be... I'll be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Other days, there are other people who can help if you don't want to talk to me. You don’t have to go through this alone."  

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he just nodded curtly and walked out into the night. The next day, Y/N was cleaning up after a session, stacking chairs and tidying the break room. That day had been busy, and she was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, the kind that came from helping others.  

She was lost in thought, reflecting on the day’s work, when she heard the soft chime of the bell above the door. "We're closing," she called out over her shoulder. "The next session is tomorrow." There was a pause, and then a familiar voice responded. "It's me... Ben."  

Y/N turned around, surprised but not displeased. Ben stood in the doorway, looking uncertain but determined. He seemed a little more composed than the day before, but the haunted look in his eyes was still there. "Ben..." she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm glad you came back. Come on in."  

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here " he admitted. Y/N nodded, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I was just finishing up, but I’m here if you need to talk."  

Ben sat down, his movements still a bit stiff. "I don’t know where to start." Ben settled into the chair, looking around the room before finally meeting Y/N’s patient gaze. “Where you feel like.” He seemed to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath.  

“Everything’s different now,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration. “The world... it’s nothing like what I remember. People, technology, everything’s changed. It's like I don’t recognize it anymore.”  

Y/N nodded, her expression encouraging him to continue. “I mean, look at the way people are glued to their weird portable phones,” Ben continued, gesturing vaguely. “No one talks to each other face-to-face. Back in my day, if you had something to say, you said it. Now, it’s all that small shitty thing. And the clothes people wear… men walking around in clothing, colours I wouldn’t have been caught dead in.” 

He paused, running a hand through his hair. “And don’t even get me started on the way people talk about feelings. PTSD? Trauma? In my time, you just sucked it up and got on with it.”  

Y/N listened attentively, her expression understanding. She knew better than to interrupt; sometimes, people just needed to voice their frustrations. “Even the food is different,” Ben continued, his tone a mix of incredulity and irritation.  

“Everything’s organic, gluten-free, plant-based crap. What happened to a good old-fashioned burger and fries? And the music… nothing like the rock ‘n roll I grew up with. It’s all electronic noise now.”  

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like the world moved on and left me behind. I was a soldier once, a fucking hero. Now, I’m just...” Y/N waited a moment to make sure he was done before she spoke.  

"How long were you gone?" Ben's eyes locked on her, ignoring her question and stood up to leave. Y/N called after him. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" He turned back to face her, his expression guarded.  

"No," he admitted. "I didn't need much sleep since I got back." Y/N frowned, concern etched across her features. "You need a place. There’s a motel nearby. I can arrange a room for you, but only if you agree to come to the sessions here every week."  

Ben laughed, a rough, humourless sound. "You’re really something, you know that? Since when are woman making deals like that. But alright, I need a place. I'll come to you for sessions. Only you, no one else."  

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Deal. Every Friday?" Ben smiles looking her up and down while licking his lips. "Sure doll... I see you on Friday." "Tell the motel owner I send you." 

Next Friday 

Y/N waited anxiously at the centre for Ben to arrive. She checked the clock repeatedly, her concern growing as the minutes ticked by without any sign of him. Finally, she decided to head to the motel to check on him.  

When she reached his door, she knocked firmly. After a few moments, the door opened, and she was taken aback to see an elderly woman standing there, looking slightly embarrassed. "Excuse me," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I’m looking for Ben. Is he here?"  

The woman glanced back over her naked shoulder, and Ben’s voice called out from inside. "Just in time doll, why don’t you join us." Y/N stepped into the doorway, seeing Ben sitting on the bed naked with a mirror filled with powder in his hand.  

“Oh my...” Y/N turned around covering her eyes seeing the woman quickly gathered her things, brushing past her as she left the room in a hurry. Y/N’s heart sank as she saw the mess inside and the unmistakable signs of a night spent with company.  

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, looking unrepentant. "To what do I own this suprise," he said with a smirk. “We had an appointment, remember?” She glanced over at him. “Can you please cover up?” He said looking up at the ceiling.  

"Yeah about that talk, I don’t need your help sweetheart. I just needed a good fuck and something to calm me down." Y/N felt a wave of disappointment and concern. "Ben, this isn’t the way to deal with what you’re going through. You said you’d come to the sessions."  

He scoffed, standing up and moving closer to her, putting on dirty sweatpants. "They’re for people who need a shoulder to cry on. I’m not one of them. But if you really want to make it up to me for scaring off my company, you could always... continue where she left off." He nodded to his crotch.  

"Stop right there," Y/N cut him off, her voice firm and filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I’m here to help you, not to be manipulated or disrespected. You’re better than this, Ben. I know you are."  

He looked at her, a flicker of something, shame, maybe, crossing his face before it hardened again. "You don’t know anything about me."  

"I know you’re hurting," Y/N said, refusing to back down. "And I know you’re scared. But pushing people who want to help away isn’t going to help. You need to face what’s going on inside you. Literally!” 

Ben clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I don’t need your pity."  

"It’s not pity," Y/N said quietly. "It’s compassion. And it’s a lifeline, if you’re willing to take it. But you have to want to change, Ben. No one can force you." For a moment, the room was silent. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.  

"Ben, if you're more comfortable, we can keep the sessions here in the motel room. But you have to promise I won't walk in on anything like this again." Ben's smirk widened as he walked closer to her, his eyes dark and intent.  

He reached out, his hands gripping her arms and pulling her closer to him. Y/N recoiled, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. "Ben, let go of me," she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, feeling his beard softly scratching, as he whispered,  

"Don't take away my needs for women and drugs, or I'll take it out on you." Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear control her. She forced herself to stand her ground, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve.  

"This isn't a joke, Ben. You need help, and I'm here to offer it. But I won't be intimidated or manipulated by you." For a moment, Ben's grip tightened, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weakness. When he found none, his expression wavered, uncertainty flickering across his face.  

He released her abruptly, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered, his bravado faltering. "We'll have the sessions here. But you better not try to change me."  

"I’m not here to change you," Y/N said, rubbing her arms where his hands had held her. "I’m here to help you find a way to live with what you’ve been through. But you have to meet me halfway. See me as, i don’t know, a friend?" Ben looked away, his jaw clenching.  

"I don’t need a friend" he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Yes, you do," Y/N said softly.  

As Y/N turned to leave, her mind racing with concern and frustration. She reached the door, Ben called out, stopping her in her tracks. "Where are you going?" he asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and challenge.  

"I want the session now." She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing as he nodded toward the bed. Thinking this was process. "Sit," he said padding the bed next to him, but she hesitated, her gaze fixed on the rumpled sheets that were a stark reminder of what had just happened there. 

"No," Y/N replied firmly. "I'll sit over here." She moved to a chair by the small table, positioning herself as far from the bed as possible. "Let’s talk, go ahead." She said, Ben watched her for a moment, sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.  

"Fine." He took a deep breath, his expression darkening as he began. "Back in the day, women knew their place. They knew how to treat a man. They'd do anything to please me, anything I wanted. They'd cook, clean, and make sure I was taken care of in bed. They’d do whatever it took to make me happy. They understood what real men need."  

Y/N's stomach turned at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, listening intently. "Nowadays, it’s different," Ben continued, a sneer in his voice. "Women think they can do whatever they want. They don’t respect men like they used to. They want to be equal, to have careers and opinions. It’s all bullshit. They don’t know how to take care of a real man. They think they're entitled to everything, without giving anything in return."  

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers, trying to see her reaction. "The women I’ve been with since I got back... they don’t measure up. They’re too independent, too... modern. They don’t understand what a man like me needs. They just complain and whine, instead of doing their job."  

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she processed his toxic words. "Ben, do you really think that’s what relationships are supposed to be like? One person serving the other without any mutual respect or partnership?" He scoffed. "Partnership? Respect? Those are just modern buzzwords. Real relationships are about roles. Men lead, women follow. It’s how it’s always been."  

"Does that make you happy?" Y/N asked quietly. "Do those kinds of relationships fulfil you? Or do they leave you feeling empty and alone after they leave?" Ben’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he masked it with anger.  

Y/N pushed his buttons just a little more, “Is that why you didn’t want me to leave? Because then you’ll be alone?” Ben’s lip twitched "You don’t know what you're talking about. You’re just another modern woman who thinks she can lecture me about life."  

"I’m not trying to lecture you, Ben," Y/N said softly. "I’m trying to understand you. But more importantly, I want you to understand yourself. These beliefs, this anger... it’s not just about the world changing. It’s about you feeling lost and trying to find control in a world that’s different from what you knew."  

He glared at her, but didn’t interrupt. "Let’s dig deeper," Y/N continued. "Why do you feel the need of control over women? What are you really afraid of?" Y/N’s question seemed to strike a nerve. Ben’s expression darkened, and he abruptly stood up, in two paces he stood tall, towering over her.  

His voice rose as he leaned in close, anger radiating from him. "Why do I feel the need to exert control? What am I afraid of? You don’t know anything about me!" Y/N didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her calmness a contrast to his rage. This seemed to catch him off guard, and he paused, staring at her with a mix of curiosity and frustration.  

"Here she is, lecturing men but this little princess is just as big of a fuck up like the men she helps, isn’t she?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Most people would be scared, what did you see that made you a stone-cold bitch?" 

Y/N took a deep breath, maintaining her composure, not willing to share her story with him just yet, but he needed something from her to build trust.  "I’ve faced fear before, Ben. I grew up as the daughter of a veteran. My father came back from war a different man. He was aggressive, a drunk. He’d beat me whenever he felt like it, accidently killed my mother in front of me while he was high and saw things there weren’t. So no, Ben, you don’t scare me."  

Ben’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face, maybe even a little regret. He stepped back, his anger momentarily replaced by something else, perhaps respect, perhaps understanding, perhaps pity. "So, you have daddy issues, poor baby.”  

"I’ve had help" Y/N said softly. "But understand this, Ben: I've seen what anger and no control can do to a person. It doesn’t lead to happiness or peace. It leads to more pain.” Y/N stood up, stepping closed to him, toe to toe.  

Her eyes were unwavering, her voice firm. "I have patience, Ben. But lose your temper like this one more time, and you'll be alone. Understand?" Ben’s lip twitched in anger. He moved the chair aside, placed his hands against the wall behind her, leaning in close.  

"Maybe I should teach you some manners," he growled, his breath hot against her face. Y/N didn’t flinch. She looked him straight in the eyes, her voice steady and cold.  

"Go ahead, try it. But understand this: I’ve dealt with men like you my whole life. You think you can intimidate me? You’re wrong. And if you do this, you’ll lose the only person who’s trying to help you. Do you really want to go down that road?"  

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Ben’s eyes were filled with rage, but beneath it, Y/N could see a flicker of doubt and confusion. Slowly, his hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped back, a mix of anger and frustration playing across his features. 

“Good," Y/N said. "Now, let’s get back to talking. We’re not done yet." - “Oh no, we’re done for today doll.” he said opening the door. She followed him. 

Y/N walked through the door Ben held open for her, her eyes briefly and unconsciously sweeping over his toned chest, noticing the small freckles scattered across his skin, similar to the ones on his face.  

She took a deep breath, focusing back on the conversation. "Ben," she said, her voice firm but kind, "see my advice as tough love. I'm a friend who wants to help you, not someone you can... fuck around with"  

Ben's smirk returned, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Tough love, huh? Never thought I'd hear that from you." Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression unwavering. "Well, get used to it. I'm not here to cuddle you. I'm here to help you find a way to live in this new world, to help you become the person you want to be."  

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I get it. Tough love it is." She nodded back, feeling a small sense of victory. "Good. I'll see you next week. Same time." As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her, a mix of curiosity and respect in his gaze.  

It was a start, and for now, that was enough. She had made it clear that she wouldn't be pushed around, and Ben seemed to understand that. One step at a time, she reminded herself.  

In the following sessions, Ben was more composed. He wore clothing and there were no unexpected visitors, though Y/N could still smell the lingering scent of sex in the air and noticed the traces of cocaine on the mirror beside his bed. Despite these signs, he began to talk more openly, allowing her to glimpse the deeper layers of his pain.  

One evening, as they sat across from each other, Ben finally broached a subject he had been avoiding. "My team... they betrayed me," he said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. Y/N leaned in slightly, encouraging him to continue.  

"Tell me more about that," she said gently. He took a deep breath, his eyes distant as he recounted the memories. "We were supposed to be a unit, a family. But they sold me out. They handed me over to the Russians.”  

He took his time to think about his next words. “Forty years, doll. Forty years in that hellhole because of them." Y/N nodded, her expression empathetic. "That must have been incredibly painful, feeling that betrayal from people you trusted."  

Ben's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "It was more than painful. It broke me. I thought I could trust them, but they were just using me. And when I was no longer useful, they discarded me. Even my own girl."  

"It's understandable to feel angry and hurt," Y/N said softly. "But holding onto that anger will only continue to harm you. You need to find a way to process those feelings, to let go of the pain, if you want to move forward."  

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. After weeks of sessions, Y/N felt they had made enough progress to broach a crucial topic. As they sat in the motel room, Ben seemed more relaxed, though the ever-present tension lingered beneath the surface.  

"Ben," Y/N began, her voice steady, "do you want to be Soldier Boy again?" He looked up, startled. "How do you...?" Y/N smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I've been listening, the pieces of your story. The details, the hints. I put them together."  

Ben's surprise turned into a wry smile. "You're smarter than you look." His eyes roamed her body like they did so often, at first, she felt uncomfortable by it, now she had learned the difference is his looks.  

This one wasn’t filled with heat, or not as much, no it was more an appreciation look. 

"Thanks, I think," Y/N replied, chuckling. "But seriously, do you want to go back to that life? To being Soldier Boy?"  

He leaned back, scratching his beard. "I don’t know. Part of me does. It’s all I’ve ever known. But another part of me wants to kill my old team and move on." Y/N ignored his lasts sentence.  

As they continued their conversation, Y/N felt a growing sense of optimism. Seeing Ben was starting to see beyond his past, to consider a future that wasn’t defined by his old identity. 

As Y/N ended their session she stood up and placed a hand on his arm. “You did good today Ben, I'm proud of you.” She could see the shock in his eyes, realising no one had ever told him they were proud of him. Not as sincerely like she just did. 

Ben’s eyes flickered to her lips and back a few times, so, before he could so something to ruin their bond she turned away. “See you next week.”  

Next week  

Ben paced the motel room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Y/N was late. He tried to convince himself that maybe she was just held up, but as the minutes ticked by, anger began to simmer.  

Just when he had started to open up, to trust her, she didn't show up. The feeling of abandonment gnawed at him, intensifying his frustration. He threw the table a crossed the room, trying to let go of his anger.  

Deep down he knew she was like everyone else, thinking: “Maybe the fact that he was Soldier Boy pushed her away? Fucking pussy, you shouldn’t have told her about your fucking feelings. Man the fuck up!” 

By Saturday, his anger had turned into a determined need for answers. He decided to walk by the centre where Y/N volunteered, hoping to find her there, she told him the last weeks she had fulltime hours.  

He needed some explanation. As he approached, he saw her at the doors, but she wasn't alone. A man in a suit stood with her, and they were arguing heatedly. Ben's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange.  

The man gestured aggressively, his face twisted in anger. Y/N flinched at his movement, just so slight that most people wouldn't notice, but Ben did. Knowing she doesn’t flinch just like that unless...  

His anger flared, a protective instinct kicking in. He strode up to them, his presence immediately drawing their attention. "Hey!" Ben barked, stepping between Y/N and the man.  

 

"What's going on here?" The man in the suit turned to face him, irritation clear in his eyes. "This is none of your business caveman, leave." Ben's gaze hardened. "It is my business if you're bothering her."  

 

“Oh...” the man looked at Y/N “This is one of your little projects!” Turning back to Ben. “I’m sorry buddy, but I need to talk to my girl.” Ben looked at Y/B seeing her face twitch at the words ‘my girl’.  

 

“Just go away Peter. We’re done I told you last night.” But then Ben noticed something he hadn't seen before: a faint bruise on Y/N's cheek, barely hidden by makeup. His eyes narrowed, and his chest tightened with anger.  

 

Ben glanced at Y/N, who noticed his eyes on her and looked away, clearly distressed. "Who is this guy, Y/N?" She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's my ex-boss and... ex-boyfriend."  

 

The man's sneer grew. "We were just having a conversation. Nothing for you to worry about." Ben's eyes flicked back to the man, his anger simmering just below the surface. "A conversation that left a bruise on her face?"  

 

The man's expression turned smug. "She left me because of one little mistake. She needs to learn her place. I’m sure you understand." Ben's chest began to glow faintly, his rage manifesting physically. "You piece of shit."  

 

The ex-boyfriend didn't seem to notice the glow at first, but when Y/N placed her hand on Ben's chest, trying to calm him, she gasped in pain, pulling her hand back with a burn. "Ben, stop!" she cried, her eyes wide with fear and concern.  

 

The man took a step back, finally realizing he was pissing of a supe. "What the hell...." Before Ben could react further, Y/N stepped in front of him, her unburned hand on his arm, pleading.  

 

"Ben, please. Calm down. Don’t let him get to you. This isn’t the way." Ben's eyes met hers, and the glow began to fade as he struggled to control his anger. His fists unclenched, but his eyes remained fixed on the man.  

 

"You’re lucky she’s here. But if I ever see you near her again, I won’t hold back." The ex-boyfriend, now visibly shaken, took another step back. "So now you take care of freaks too?" he muttered. “I hope they can fix your issues.” he added before walking away. 

Ben looked at her, opening the door for her so she could get inside. ”Let me see your hand.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take care of myself.” But Ben thought differently, pushing her toward the table, his eyes demanding her to sit down.  

Ben searched around the kitchen for the first aid kit, his movements still tense from the encounter. When he found it, he brought it over to Y/N and carefully began treating her burned hand.  

"So, you slept with your boss," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of teasing scepticism. Y/N smirked, wincing slightly as the cool ointment touched her skin. "Never thought that was your kink," Ben chuckled, the tension easing slightly.  

"I though more in the line of, older man, calling them daddy, spanking your perfect little ass... Guess I’ve still got a lot to learn about you." He looked up at her, seeing her reaction, she tried to hide a smile, the humour lightening the mood.  

"It was a mistake," she admitted, her expression growing more serious. "We were together before he was my boss. Things were good at first, but then he had stress, started drinking more, and everything went downhill."  

Ben nodded, listening when she finally opened up to him. “I saw my father in him, determine to heal him before he could hurt anyone.” she said looking at his hands gentle as he wrapped her hand in a bandage.  

"And then he hit you?" Ben asked without joking about her ‘daddy issues’ - "Yeah," she said softly. "That was the last straw. I couldn’t stay with him after that." Ben finished wrapping her hand, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and respect.  

"You did the right thing by leaving. No one deserves to be treated like that." She looked confused at him, he noticed "Just because I think a woman should be at home, cooking for her man, please him doesn't mean I would hit her... unless she likes a little spanking in the bedroom." He winks at her.  

She could feel the soft pink on her cheeks burning, "Thanks, Ben," she said, her smile returning. Ben looked at Y/N after taking care of her hand, a sense of resolve in his eyes. "I need to take care of a few things," he said, his voice gentle but determined.  

"You won't be seeing me for a while." Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of his words. Ben looked at Y/N, concern etched in his features. "Are you going to be okay being alone?"  

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softening. "Are you?" He chuckled, a hint of self-awareness in his laughter. "No, not really." She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Me neither." 

Y/N looked at Ben, her expression turning serious. "What are your plans?" Ben hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to hers. "I... I'm going to visit an old friend," he admitted reluctantly.  

 

"Someone who can help me get my suit back." Y/N's brows furrowed in concern. "Your suit? Why do you need that?" He looked away again, the weight of his words heavy on his shoulders. "To... settle some unfinished business.” Her eyes widened in alarm. "Ben, you can't be serious.”  

 

"I have to," he insisted, his voice tight with determination. "They betrayed me, Y/N. They left me to rot in that hellhole for forty years. I can't just let that go." Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers, her touch gentle but firm. "Please, Ben. Think about what you're doing. Revenge won't heal anything." 

As Ben and Y/N looked at each other, there was a palpable tension in the air. For the first time, they felt a stirring of attraction, a spark igniting between them. Y/N's gaze lingered on Ben in a way she hadn't before, truly seeing him for the first time.  

She noticed the depth of his green eyes, the curve of his full lips, the scattering of freckles across his skin. There was a ruggedness to him, a rawness that drew her in. Ben found himself captivated by Y/N in a way he hadn't expected.  

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips, imagining the softness of them against his own. He felt a pull towards her, a magnetic force that seemed to draw them closer with each passing moment.  

Slowly, almost instinctively, they began to close the space between them. The air crackled with anticipation as their breaths mingled, their hearts beating in sync. In that moment her hands moved to his cheek, a tender gesture as she pulled him closer and kissed him softly.  

He leaned into the kiss, savouring the moment, feeling the soft scratch of his beard against her skin. When he pulled back she kept her eyes closed, she could hear him moving. Knowing what he is going to do. 

She heard the door closing, reality crashed back in, and a single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. In the quiet of the room, she couldn't help but wonder why it hurt so much. The sudden ache in her heart caught her off guard, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. 

Her eyes where still closed, her fingers moved over her lips, trying to hold on to the lingering sensation of Ben's kiss. 

--

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[inklore]

listen as a namor whore (namwhore?) i think that he loves marking you as his like man would go nuts with the hickeys and bruises (and bite marks too). on the off chance he lets you return the favor he’s surprised by how much he loves seeing the love bites and bruises on his own godly self >:)

pairing: namor x princess!reader

word count: 962

warnings: eighteen+ content, mentions of p in v but not shown, teasing, bites and marking, established forbidden relationship.

note: ok see i love this concept, this take, this thot!! but i fear he’s not completely into you returning the favor because for him it’d be more of a ‘i want everyone to see and be reminded who you worship to’. and i think he likes to stay looking proper to his people, but he does let you get away with bites left under the shorts!!

You were supposed to have left your room and met your mother and the council minutes ago—almost an hour ago you now see as the clock on your bedside reflects back to you in the mirror you’re standing at. Trying to right yourself back into looking presentable, kept, like you’re not running late because the man at the foot of your bed used his sweet siren song of pretty compliments, and words that had you out of your dress just as fast as his fingers had torn at the undergarments underneath it.

Leaving your balcony door open for him was seeming more and more like a curse than a blessing.

Letting him come and go as he pleased, when he cared to visit you after days of being MIA. Sometimes only noting his presence with a saltwater covered gift he’d leave at your doorway, when you’d stayed up as long as your body would allow to. As you waited to see if he would come to you; or when duties like council meetings and required dinners were demanded of you—events a Princess was supposedly meant to attend.

You’re surprised your mother hasn’t sent someone to fetch you. You expect it anytime now, ever the punctual woman your mother was. Being tardy was surely going to get you a stern look and deep questioning.

“Jats'uts,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

Beautiful.

Pretty.

Your heart soars, fingers only wavering a little as you do your best to right the necklaces adorning your neck. Your body having just been molded pudy in his hands mere seconds ago. Your thighs still sticky from having his mouth and cock between them. Your legs still feel that heady wobble from post orgasm. Your mind and body still coming off of that beautiful precipice of want and desire, of falling against his body like you couldn’t stand up straight, or function properly, without him being there to sink into—or onto on most nights.

You had told him how urgent it was that you make it to this meeting. How he needed to turn around and make his way back to his beloved ocean before someone saw him, and your mother had both of you locked away.

A threat he laughed at. A threat you knew meant nothing to someone as powerful as him; a God.

“If this were Talokan I’d make our people come to you. You’d never have to lift a finger, princess.”

Our people.

As if there were some alternate reality in which that could come to formation. Where the two of you would rule as equals and not something forbidden, and secretive.

There had been too much death and destruction on both sides, from both of your people, for either groups to be happy to be ruled by the both of you.

But the fantasy was nice to dream about—get lost in the idea of actually being able to flaunt your love instead of hiding it.

When his arm wraps around your waist your body works on instinct, on knowing the hands and warmth of the man that’s touching it. Guiding it into his chest to lean and rest against. His lips brushing at the side of your neck, mustache burning your skin.

“Or you could stay naked, spread out for me. Waiting for my return while I handled everything.”

“Mm.” You let your eyes close as you grin, “no responsibilities other than pleasing my king.”

“Precisely.” His teeth take a hold of your sensitive skin, his tongue following after the sting like a salve. Making your body tremble against him, a gasp falling from your lips. “You’d never want for anything. I would have it brought to you. Made for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to you, princess.” His mouth repeats it’s actions against your neck, his hand creeping lower to the start of your thigh.

That ache between your legs quickly making a home once more at your swollen clit.

“K’uk’ulkan,” his name falls from your lips, practiced, known, worshiped—as you moan softly. As you let him suck and bite at your skin, letting his words coax you into that fantasy world you want so badly.

You don’t come back to reality until you feel his fingers start to pull up the bottom of your dress, the cool air against your damp underwear bringing you back down from that building high.

“Nononono,” you pull away from him. Untangling his arms from your body and sending him a scowl at the way he’s smirking at you. “I’m already late because of you!”

“My apologies, princess.” His hand waves towards the door, “don’t keep your people waiting any longer.”

“I won’t! You-” your quick movements stop abruptly when you see it, when the deep hue catches your eye in the mirror. And maybe it’s half your own fault for not stopping him, for once again falling victim to the hot-tease of manipulation of his beautiful words.

There’s words of anger and disbelief in the back of your throat, ready to come up and spill over at the man whose eyes are locked onto yours in the mirror. Who is still wearing that signature cool as can be expression, that you really want to slap off of him.

Your mother was going to kill you.

String you up as a pariah!

“My mother–”

“Will not be pleased, no.” He finishes for you. Steps back into that space behind you, returning his heat to your back. His thumb runs along the bruised area, eyes gleaming at his creation before flashing back to yours. “But now everyone will know you belong to someone.”

You belong to me.

Unspoken in words but not in the way he presses a kiss to the love mark, lips soft and endearingly sensual.