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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 18 days ago

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Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table. You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like.

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty, almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n

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lemoniiiiiii · 29 days ago

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bed chem (short n' sweet)

(colin zabel x fem!reader) your internship just got more interesting...

warnings / content: not really proofread, age gap (reader is 20-22, colin's like 32-34), swearing, perv!reader tbh, NSFW - masturbation (toys) + fingering (fem receiving), p in v

(this fic is a part of my short n' sweet collection!) a/n: every time i listen to this song i think of colin like he's just so... AHHHHHHHHHH i've literally had this idea since the album came out! tried to incorporate as many lyrics as i could idk how well i did tho!

the easttown police department wasn’t exactly a hub of thrilling action. that was probably a good thing for the town, but for you, it made the days of your internship drag endlessly. stuck behind a desk, processing minor domestic disputes and petty incidents, the hours stretched out. you couldn’t help but wish that, just once, you’d be allowed to join an officer out in the field. to witness a slice of the town's life up close instead of through dry reports. but no, you were stuck in the back office, relying on your imagination to fill in the blanks while you typed up incident after incident.

on this particular afternoon, you were making your way down the hallway with a precariously high stack of files balanced in your arms. you could feel the papers shift, hear the quiet rustle of their movement as they started to slide. panic gripped you briefly—this was going to be embarrassing. you were already imagining the cascade of documents scattering across the floor, how you’d have to drop to your knees and scramble to gather them up, probably while everyone watched. just as the stack tilted dangerously to one side, a hand swooped in, catching the top section before it could tumble.

"here, lemme help you with that," a man said, accompanied by a friendly smile. a smile too relaxed, too bright for this quiet, indifferent corner of pennsylvania.

grateful, you gestured toward your desk a few feet away. "thanks," you mumbled, trying not to sound too embarrassed as you placed the files down with a sigh of relief. he set the rescued papers down beside yours, glancing at you with a foreign look. like he actually saw you as a person instead of the intern that does the shit no one else wants to do.

"you doin' okay?" he asked. his concern seemed genuine, which again, took you a second to process.

"yeah! yeah, i'm good!" you responded, a little too enthusiastically perhaps, as you straightened the files in a futile effort to regain your composure. "thank you."

the man chuckled softly. "you know, sometimes it’s easier just to take the two trips." he shot you a wink that made your pulse quicken. "speakin' from experience," he added, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret. "when i was in your shoes, i had to learn the hard way."

the chief called him over and, after a charismatic "duty calls" farewell, he walked off. you sat down at your desk, face hurting from the corners of your mouth being lifted for so long, but you couldn't bring them down.

you buried your face into your arms, letting your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk for a few minutes. if anyone saw the flush creeping up your cheeks, you’d never hear the end of it. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling, willing yourself to get back to work. but the more you tried to focus, the more impossible it became.

why? because guess whose office was in clear view of your desk? mare's. and guess who was now in mare's office quite adorably rehearsing a conversation with himself?

yeah... you were done for.

the man's lips moved slightly as if he was practicing lines for a play, his brow furrowed in concentration, and every so often, he’d run a hand through his neatly cropped hair, or shake his head in disapproval, looking entirely too charming for his own good.

you needed to find out who he was right away. what was he there to talk to mare about? was he a detective? why couldn't you stop thinking about him pinning you against a wall?

unable to live with the mystery you pushed yourself up from your chair and marched over to the nearest officer, your pulse still racing. "hey—uh, hello." you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. "who’s the cute guy in mare’s office? you know, uh.."

wide brown eyes, chiseled jawline..

"navy jacket- big briefcase."

the officer looked up, raising an eyebrow at your blunt description before glancing toward the office. "county guy chief brought in to help with the katie bailey case," he replied nonchalantly. "last name's zabel if i remember right."

you nodded, pretending like that was enough to satisfy your curiosity, but then another officer nearby chimed in with a smirk. "that’s him? poor guy’s gonna be in for it."

they quickly devolved into their own conversation, talking shop and completely forgetting you were even standing there. under normal circumstances, their dismissal might’ve bugged you, but you had bigger priorities now.

back at your desk, you grabbed your phone and opened up a browser, your fingers flying across the screen. within moments, you’d found him. detective colin zabel of delaware county. recently praised for solving a cold case involving a missing 10-year-old girl—a feat that had earned him respect in the force and beyond.

you couldn’t help but grin. of course he was the hero detective. it made perfect sense. but now that you knew who he was, it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach any easier to ignore.

when mare had finally arrived, you watched the awkward interaction between the two of them. colin outstretched his hand only for her to disregard his formalities. you saw it coming, but it didn't make it any less painful to observe.

you waited until she had left (which wasn't very long) to discreetly travel over to the office. the door was open so you knocked on the frame.

"it's not personal. she's got a lot going on" you said with an understanding smile.

at the sound of your voice, colin turned around, giving a deflated chuckle towards your remark. "you er- saw that whole thing?"

"my desk is right there" you said, pointing, the two stacks of files barely touched. "sorry i kinda.. visually eavesdropped"

"no worries-" colin briefly smiled at your humorous confession then looked away. "uhhhhhh- did you need somethin'?"

"just wanted to introduce myself" you said, extending your hand out. "i'm y/n"

when he firmly took yours in his, your eyes couldn't help but flicker down and notice the veins that decorated them. a thought crossed your mind about where they might show up on other parts of his body.

"that's a pretty name"

you looked up from the grip your two hands were intertwined in, colin's attentive dark eyes on you.

"thank you.." you said softly, pulling away. shit, why were you out of breath? "uhm- i read about that... that case you solved? amazing work"

"oh- that was- i'm not-" he scratched the back of his head, trying to find words to minimize the accomplishment. you didn't know what was more attractive—hearing him stumble over his words or his humility. "we brought her home you know? that's what matters"

you nodded earnestly in response. "100%... well let me know if you need anythin'. i know people here can be a bit closed off but it's not all that bad."

"yeah thanks... nice to know i got a friend already" he smiled.

a friend... for now.

seeing as he was always in the back of your mind, and you couldn't care less about filling out reports, daydreaming about colin became your favorite past time. and every smile, every corny joke he greeted you with only fueled your crush.

it wasn't long before you noticed he had his eyes on mare, but the way he stared at you while you spoke about your criminology major... crossing his built arms, leaning forward on his desk to show you he was really listening. the way he'd routinely check on you and stop by your desk to chat....

for god's sake he started to get you coffee every morning.

there had to be something there... right? something more between you than mere camaraderie.

you definitely thought so. and thought about it often.. in bed.

eyes closed, you pictured colin's body hovering over yours. you could discern his toned figure from the form fitted button-ups he wore.. he'd have absolutely no problem picking you up and turning you over, manhandling you... though he probably wouldn't. he's too sweet for that. so sweet... and yet no ring? colin seemed like the type of man who should've had a wife and 2 kids by now...

maybe you could be the one to give that to him.

not now of course.

one day though.

still thinking of him you reached down into your panties, playing with your delicate folds in the caring manner you imagined him to have.

"so beautiful" he'd whisper, pumping two slick digits in and out of you at a sensual pace.

gasping moans escaped from your mouth as your fingers moved faster, the squelching sound of your fluids filling the room.

"that's it... god, i love how y'sound..."

belt unbuckled, he'd pull down his pants and boxers in one swift motion revealing his hard cock ready to drive into you. from underneath your bed you grab your dildo—oversized and veiny as colin would be and removed your now-soaked underwear.

he'd smile against your lips as he slotted himself between your legs, your body accommodating as he entered. after he'd ask (quite endearningly) if you're okay, you'd quickly nod, giving him permission to continue.

you try to imagine the expression of lust on his face... the sound of his deep groans in your ear as you fucked yourself gently, attempting to emulate your bodies rocking together in synced movement, the riveting sensation of the veins against your walls sending shockwaves through your body.

"fuck... oh my god" you panted, feeling the heat build up in your core. you were close.

"let go, i've got you... taking me like this, you're doing so well... makin' me feel so good..."

you increase the pace at which you pummel the dildo into your quivering cunt, eyes rolling back as you reach your climax, your body left trembling.

with colin, your sure you'd probably both arrive at the same time.

but for now you just had to live with unsatisfaction of not feeling his warm release coating your insides.

the next morning the chief had called you into his office.

a grin spread on your face as the he detailed the new program the department was implementing, how you'd finally be able to shadow an officer like you'd hoped when you first applied for the internship.

"any officer you have a preference to be paired with?"

you turned your head and caught colin's gaze through the office window. he was deep in conversation with mare, but when he noticed you, he gave a small wave. you smiled back, feeling a slight flutter.

"yeah, i’ve got someone in mind."

extra note: part two coming (hopefully soon!) it'll be based off the song "busy woman"!

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8

#honestly writing this was kinda funny i love making reader a little unhinged #this has been a wip for like a month and a half #this is a very self serving write #colin zabel #mare of easttown #colin zabel smut #colin zabel x reader #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfic #lem's short n' sweet collection

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lejindaryikiki · 3 months ago

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Say it right (Husband!Ken Sato X Reader)

Summary: In which you and your husband dance to Nelly Furtado's song after a long day of work.

You came out from your office as your shift was over. After a very long day, you were so exhausted and stressed a lot lately. All you wanted to do was sleep and cuddle with the super-famous baseball player, aka. Ken Sato, aka. your husband. You yawned as you reached your car, started the ignition and headed home.

Speaking of your husband, you thought about how he managed to do all the single-mother tasks and baseball at the same time. I mean, you both met when you were young. But he had to go to America and you both lost contact for 20 years. He became a famous baseball player. After he announced that he was coming to Japan, you knew why he was coming for, all thanks to Prof. Sato. You knew he was Ultraman.

From that day, you both reconciled your friendship and when Emi came into your lives, friendship blossomed into something deeper. After taking Emi to Kaiju island, Ken finally confessed his love for you. After dating for two years, he proposed you and yes, you were married. Okay, enough of this backstory.

And here you were, lying on the floor and waiting for your husband to come home. You wore a baby-pink, satin pajamas you adored (which would secretly turn your husband on 🤭). Once you heard the door cling, you stood up from your position and stretched your arms. There he was. Your husband.

Kenji strolled towards you and hugged you. "Hi, honey," he rubbed your back, soothingly, "how was work?"

"Tiring," you said, almost melting into his embrace, "how was practice?"

"Went good," he replied, "I missed you."

"I missed you a lot," you hummed, as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

Timeskip-a-loo

After dinner, you both were now in the balcony. You were sitting between his legs, ranting about your day at the office, how your boss gave a crap amount of work, and how he was even more strict, and Kenji was listening to you while playing with your hair.

"Man, I am so sleepy," you yawned, "but I don't want to sleep."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, I just," you paused for a while, "I just want to stay like this, for a while."

Kenji thought of an idea. He thought about those days when you and him would vibe to your favorite song while using one of his cars as a mode of transportation (he would usually ride his bike), those days when you would hum that song while working and that wedding day when you and him slow-danced to that same song during your first night before consummating.

He slowly took you inside, his hands pressed on your hips and your back pressed on his chest.

"Kenji, what are you doing?" You chuckled.

"(N.)," he replied, "taking you in."

"I told you, I don't want to sleep."

"Who says we're going to sleep?" He turned to his AI assistant and ordered, "Mina, play that one song."

"Ken, which one?"

"You know the one," and Mina played it. It was Nelly Furtado's song 'Say It Right,' your most favorite song.

"Kenji?" you asked, "what are you doing, again?"

"Dancing with you," he took your waist on one hand and you hand with the other, as you held onto his shoulder.

You reminisced those days when you used to sing that song with him, those days when you played it in the background when he was away with his baseball practice, dancing your heart out alongside Emi who giggled and danced with you, those sweet moments playing inside your brain as you were now lost in his eyes.

As the song was about to end, you whispered to Mina, "Hey, Mina? Dim the lights, please."

Mina did as you told her to do. Now, here you were; slow-dancing with your husband in the dining hall, lights dimmed as you both share a kiss when the last verse of this song ended and the outro was played.

(camera shifts and focuses to two red roses touched to each other as the background is now blurred. HEHEHE!)

A/N: Ahhhh! I made my first Ken Sato fanfic, just like I promised (this one was short). Okay, so I saw a Miguel x Kenji fanart on Pinterest and omg, I was not expecting that (no comments on Ken x Miguel). The comments were mostly of, 'I ship Ken with Tadashi' and honestly, Ken x Tadashi looks like a good ship (Kendashi, hello?) and there was one comment which caught me off guard. "KENJI X ELSA!" I was like, "Okay, that looks so rare!"

Anyways, making an OC who is Ken's wife. credits to @drifting-moon for the divider.

#Spotify #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman ken #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman netflix #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader #ken sato x you #ken sato fluff #emi ultraman #ultraman mina #ultraman emi #ultraman

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months ago

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Harmony || CL16

Summary: Being a musician isn't the easiest way to make ends meet. Aside from being in the local orchestra, you balance being a tutor and a tuner - one Charles hires to tune his piano. Warnings: none, fluffy WC: 1.2k F1 Masterlist

Of course the city would be busy when you were running late. As much as you might have tried to run, or at least power walk, you didn’t want to damage the precious cargo you were carrying. You managed to make up some time at the sacrifice of your lungs and you were still recovering when you reached the address of your last appointment.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr Leclerc, my violin lesson ran over.”

“That’s okay, and it’s just Charles,” he corrected as he opened his door wider for you to enter his home. It was easy to see where you were going to be working so you headed straight to the upright piano in the light and airy living room. After placing your violin case on the floor beside his coffee table you shrugged off your backpack and opened your tool kit.

“May I?” you asked as you reached for the memorabilia balanced on the top you needed access to.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He rolled his eyes at himself for not preparing the piano for your arrival and helped you clear it off. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you, Mr- I mean Charles.” You opened the top lid before removing the front panel and sat down on the bench. First you tested the keys and pedals to see if any were sticky but they were in good condition, and you listened to each key to determine how much work was needed.

“How long have you been learning to play the violin?”

You looked away from the keys as Charles took a seat on the sofa near your instrument. “Oh, no, I teach it. Well, I suppose I am still learning, because there is always room to improve, but my lesson was with a student.”

“So violin tutor and piano tuner,” he said with an impressed nod. “That is quite the niche market.”

“Not as niche as yours,” you pointed out as you pulled a tuning fork out of your tool kit. “There are certainly more than 20 of us in the world.”

The racer cracked a smile that was quite disarming and you had to return to your work as your cheeks warned. “When was she last tuned?”

He chuckled nervously and you winced before he even answered. “When I bought it, two and a half years ago.”

You suppressed the sigh that built and grabbed the adjuster to start moving all the keys up in pitch. “Without regular tuning, you’ll likely find she needs fine tuning again in a few weeks.”

Charles smiled sheepishly and nodded. A comfortable silence fell as you continued your work, moving with confidence through the motions until you were satisfied the piano sounded perfect. Replacing the front panel and closing the top, you took a seat again for the final test. There was already a page of sheet music on the stand so you placed your tablet next to it and opened the app that picked up notes and confirmed if they were in tune or not.

Your eyes scanned the sheet and you heard the melody in your head before you let it flow into your fingers that started their graceful dance across the keys. One page was more than enough to check your work was done but you were a little disappointed that you weren’t able to hear the remainder of the song as you closed the lid.

“I haven’t heard this before,” you said as you picked up the sheet but it had no markings on it. “Who is the artist?”

Charles rose from the sofa and took the page with pink cheeks. “I, uh, I wrote it.”

“It’s beautiful, and sad.” He frowned at the strange compliment and looked away before you placed your hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with sad music. It is meant to be a way of expressing oneself so it doesn’t fester inside. I tell my students it is a good thing.”

His frown softened and his grip on the paper eased before he reached past you to place it back on the stand. “I wanted to add some other instruments once I recorded it, but I wasn’t sure which ones.”

You nodded to yourself as you replayed the sonata in your head, your fingers drawing invisible notes that could accompany the melody. “Hmm, I think I can help…if you want?”

“Please,” he said as he watched you grab your violin case and unlock it. The lid opened with a creak and his eyes widened as he saw the logo for the Monegasque Royal Orchestra in the velvet lining. “You play for the orchestra?”

“Second chair,” you hummed with a proud smile. “We are playing for Prince Albert’s birthday this weekend.”

“I guess I will see you there.”

Of course he would have an invitation to the Prince’s birthday, all the important people in the principality would be there. “That’s one way to make me nervous. I’ll try not to mess up for you.”

“I think you’ll be great,” he said with a grin as he sat at the edge of the bench and watched you raise the delicate violin to your neck.

“Do you want to play and I will join you?”

“Uh, sure.” He was the one who seemed nervous now and he cleared his throat as he turned on the bench seat, his toes hovering over the pedals. “Here we go, I guess.”

His long fingers were elegant and his wrists remained loose as he began to play. You let the first eight bars open before you closed your eyes and drew your bow across the strings in harmony to him. Charles stumbled over the key as the higher octave caught him by surprise but he recovered with a quiet apology and soon the piece rose into an emotive crescendo that had your chest aching before the last note died out.

You let your arm relax and the warmth from the rosewood rest cooled on your skin as you lowered the bow and violin to your sides.

“That was…incredible,” he said as he turned in his seat.

“You are a very talented man, Mr Leclerc,” you said as you carefully laid the violin back into the bracket and locked it up. “A lot of people can play the piano but very few have the creativity to write their own music.”

His blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and he fidgeted with the ring on his finger. “Thank you, for tuning my piano and playing with me.”

“It was a pleasure.” You packed up your tools and shoved them into your backpack before picking up the violin case and looking at the door. “I hope you enjoy the concert.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said with a genuine smile as he walked with you to the entrance way. “Maybe we can have a drink together afterwards?”

You clutched the handle of the case tighter and tried to control your excitement with a small nod, but your smile was uncontrollable and bright. “I would like that.”

“I’ll see you Saturday.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine

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star2fishmeg · 5 months ago

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ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ

[3.3k]

Pairing: Song Mingi x afab!reader

Summary: mingi and y/n discover that you can still relight candles once the flame flickers out...even at sweaty crummy fratty parties

Warnings: 18+ smut, university!au, fratboy!Mingi, angst, comfort, inaccurate frat description probs, exes to lovers, happy end, drugs (weed), alcohol, mingi and reader are in their 20s, making out, grinding, thigh riding, swearing

Authors Note: I remembered I never posted this fic from Oct '23 so here's the last mingi fic for a while. Ngl if one half of this is better than the other it's bc the first half was written last year. This is a work of fiction, the activities involved are fictional and none of what the boys are doing is real or based on real events.

Request: none!

♫ party monster - the weeknd

It wasn’t her first time attending one of the boys’ parties, she’d been going since they joined the university. It was never any different though, the same music, the same games, rarely any new faces but when you’ve got alcohol in your system you never notice anyway. She completely understood why people loved the parties though, after a week of uni it was the one place for some people to escape to an entirely different world, each room had its vibe and you just gravitated to yours. Or chameleon through them all, which is what she did with her friends because they liked to make the most of a potentially messy night.

Getting into the parties was the hard part, they were picky due to their seniors mentoring. You had to be directly invited, and luckily, she was. Growing up with Yunho and Mingi wasn’t so bad after all, they were the ones to thank for the inclusion, but she got on with the others just as well.

Y/n sat outside in one of the plastic garden chairs, also known as Yeosang’s smoke circle. Yeosang was serenity in human form, his personality was on the quieter side, and he’d recently dyed his hair a neon green after losing a bet but looks could be deceiving, he had a notorious streak for coming out with the most outrageous sentences and shots targeted at Wooyoung. Despite his company, she hadn’t taken a drag of anything. It’s not that y/n disliked the vibe, she very much cherished it, despite the face of thunder she donned at that moment, swirling the booze in her cup. Hand rested under chin, elbow on her knee while this girl she – and the others – had never seen before in her life complained about the noise and smell protruding from the house. The girl being oblivious to the side-eyes, and the sweet aroma of weed and suffocating fumes of cigarettes indicated that none of them were listening to anything she was rambling on about. Yeosang took a heavy drag from his joint, giving y/n a pained look.

“If you hate it so much, fucking leave.” She spat, throwing the rest of her drink over her before walking inside, listening to the circle giggle and the girl yell out ‘bitch!’.

Sliding the back door open and stepping in, her senses were violently hit by the living room’s blaring music, which she liked to call the club zone. It’s where the speakers were located, sofas moved to the sides to create a dance floor and where you’d find Wooyoung and Mingi bouncing around in the ambient lighting. That room moved in slow motion, and very much did for y/n when she weaved her way through it to the kitchen, which was quieter, with an orange lowlight and the island littered with cups and various bottles and pleasantly, a Yunho blissfully pouring himself another cup of beer with rosy cheeks.

“Hey, n/n!” he piped, taking a sip from his cup before leaning his hip against the counter, “You okay?”

She nodded with a small smile, standing next to him, “Refilling. Threw mine over sourpuss over there.” She pointed out the kitchen window, to the girl who had moved from Yeosang to another group of people, presumably still complaining but now about the fact y/n had thrown cider over her. Yunho chuckled, it being contagious until both were releasing tipsy giggles while sipping fresh drinks. Yunho was tall, reaching over six feet and loomed over her, his eyes almost puppy-like and soft.

“Never seen her before, and neither I nor Mingi invited her, and going by Yeo’s face, he didn’t.” He joked, watching the rest of the people outside.

“Nah, Yeo didn’t. He wanted me to get rid of her. You think San or Woo did? Joong’s definitely out of the picture, I’ve seen him actively avoid her. Speaking of, where is Joong?”

Yunho pointed to the games room, which you could just about see from the kitchen window. It was more like an old garage they’d turned into a games room with a singular window. From where they stood, Jongho’s figure moved past it.

“In there with Jongho. Mr. I-won’t-drink-tonight pre’d too hard and got roped into beer pong from the beginning. Jongho’s being relentless, it’s nice seeing him have fun.”

“Yeah, and fucking hilarious seeing Joong on the ropes. Thank God it’s Sunday he’ll be hungover on.”

In what was supposed to be a quick refill turned into shots with Yunho and because of that decision, y/n found herself being twirled by him on the ‘dance floor’. The living room was always hot, sweaty, drunk bodies bumping and grinding into each other, music so loud her ears just blocked it into a silence, and it was just her in the moment, in another headspace with whatever drink flowing in her system. Her friends were long gone, which was fine, they’d been in that house before, they knew most of the people there and had their ‘if lost go here’ areas. Besides, Yunho wouldn’t let anything happen to y/n, they had a solid friendship, a siblingship at most.

Eyes bored into the back of her head, she felt the presence too well, it was too familiar. Mingi, slouched on one of the sofas with his legs spread and eyes squinting a primal gaze, watching her every move. His hands loosely sat on his thighs, as if he was giving the memo that he was not anyone’s seat, not that he ever sat down enough for girls to drape themselves over him. But this time he sat to watch.

Yunho leant into her ear, “I’m gonna spin us, I can feel daggers into my soul right now.” And he did casually, twirling her again to switch places. Y/n’s eyes briefly fell into Mingi’s trap, a couple of seconds feeling like an eternity again when falling into his eyes. She missed it. Missed the butterflies of drowning in someone, getting lost peacefully, and having someone feel so passionate about her.

“Yunho, what do I do? He’s getting up, it’s been so long-“ she stammered, eyes widening upon catching a glance of Mingi weaving through the crowd, ignoring everyone who tried taking his attention with the gaze of a predator hunting its prey. Yunho giggled, slipping away.

For a split second, she was alone, watching the room sway around her and a white noise fill her ears, body numb as the world fell into slow motion. The way he moved with his confidence, chest out and eyesight on her, no smile. Cheap disco lights doing him too much justice, the blue haze bouncing off his cheekbones, a soft glint in his eyes and sparkle bouncing off the chain that sat sound on his collarbone. Y/n’s eyes flickered his stature, up and down, from his t-shirt that wrapped snug around his chest down to his jeans that hung off his hips in a way that shouldn’t have flipped her stomach the way it did. She swallowed, a thumping in her chest and head still in a slow pace until her hips were firmly gripped in large palms, hot breath in her space and his eyes softening as they caught hers. As if by default, she placed her hands on his chest – intimate but cautious and prepared to reject him – and his lips found their way to her ear.

“You still light up the room.” His voice was deeper than the last time he’d whispered his sins in her ears. Not a nibble, not a kiss, no unasked-for contact. Just like back then. Just two bodies swaying in a rhythm in comfort.

“Were you jealous?”

“…maybe. Haven’t seen you in a while, thought you were avoiding me. Then I see you cosied up with my best friend, what man wouldn’t be?”

“And why would I avoid you?” Her questions lingered in the thick air. Tingles ran through her nerves as Mingi’s thumbs traced small circles over the fabric of her shorts, his favourite denim shorts that sent him back to adolescent afternoons in the summer, where they drank cheap beer at family barbecues. One hand slid itself over the curve of her spine until it drew itself away and cupped her jaw gently, holding her like his precious treasure, like she was his again. Nuzzling into his palm, she looped one finger under his necklace, toying with it until their eyes met once again. Mingi’s breath hitched, air knocked from his lungs under the familiarity of the gesture.

“Come, I want you to myself tonight.” The rumble of his voice vibrated her fingertips, flushing heat down her body and hitting her pussy all over again. His voice was too sexy to think straight, the determination that ran through his eyes bringing back a reason why she loved him in the first place. Y/n nodded, taking his hand on her cheek into her own and letting the man guide her through the bodies and towards the staircase.

People go through phases as they grow older, but the way Mingi’s room still had his favourite music producer’s posters stuck over his walls gave his space a warmth to it. It did smell like Lynx Africa, it still seemed to have curtains drawn shut and although they sat against the headboard on unmade grey sheets, it all still screamed Mingi. Their shoes lay scattered on the floor, the music from downstairs muffled in the silence as their thighs pressed together and hands awkwardly played with their clothing.

Mingi’s eyes softly gazed down at her features, at her eyelashes she always complained about, down her nose bridge to her pouted lips he’d first kissed at her best friend’s birthday when they were sixteen.

Her breath rattled, voice deeper in the silence, “I missed you, y’know.” His gaze remained on her face, as he’d never seen anything as beautiful since last seeing her. Y/n’s cheeks flushed, unbeknownst under the lowlight but regardless her chest swelled, like a hole inside her started patching itself together suddenly.

Y/n’s head hesitantly turned to look up at him, taken aback when her eyes met his so soon, noses barely touching. She licked her lips, “Me too. My friends talked so much shit for ages, but I had nothing bad to say about you,” she chuckled with a slight smirk, “I think they were just rooting for us deep down and hurting more than we were.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” he murmured, shifting slightly to face her more, shoulder leaning on the headboard.

She shifted with him, facing him too but still with a closeness that they could hear even a whisper from each other. Her hand slid to his, her fingers tracing over his chunky rings, “We were sixteen-seventeen. At the time we didn’t even know which university we wanted to go to, we didn’t know anything.” Her heart pulsed in her chest, if it weren’t for the volume downstairs she was sure he would hear it. Mingi’s throat felt dry, a restless feeling in his legs as the soft touches of her fingers on his skin lit the fireworks in his stomach.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her body into his side while she cosied up onto his chest, his hand finding home on her hip. She slipped her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. It felt wrong, so wrong to be cuddled up with an ex-boyfriend, but at the same time, the comfort of having heartbeats fall in sync spoke more words than she ever could.

“I don’t regret dating you,” she whispered, taking in a whiff of his cologne and she smiled, even after all those years, he never changed. “Sometimes I wish we hadn’t called it off, I really liked you.”

His grip pulled her tighter into his body, “I know. I hate my younger self. You were the best girlfriend anyone could’ve asked for, so attentive and thoughtful, you were full of so much love. And I made you fucking cry, and then people wouldn’t look at me and my friends got involved when they shouldn’t have. And we never spoke again.” The words tumbled from his mouth and breathing became shaky. The exact scene of the moment once again replayed in his head, the exact moment he saw her eyes gloss over and her lip tremor on a Friday afternoon in mid-November when they were seventeen. Now, it was him whose eyes watered, his free hand gently holding her cheek as she relaxed into his palm. God, it felt so wrong, it’d been so long and here they were, acting as if no time had passed at all.

“Min…”

“I cried that night. Cried like a baby to my mum about what I did. I’ve regretted it ever since…” He leant in, drawing their faces closer, lips ghosting. Y/n’s tummy flipped, tongue darting to moisten her lips. His eyes flickered to her lips, her eyes boring into his, waiting for his decision. Her hand (the one not gripping his), hooked a finger around his chain roughly, pulling him close and closing the ever-long space between them. Goosebumps ran along her skin in a shockwave, the kiss finally setting his inner fireworks exploding beautiful colours within him. Slow, and sweet. But also short, they pulled back with time.

“We were stupid,” she exhaled, his hand moved to cup the back of her neck, “c’mere.” Their lips melted into one another’s like putty, teeth chattering but hands finding their ways to keep the other close. Y/n’s hands balled his t-shirt into fists, Mingi’s fingers tugging the roots on her hair and pulling her body onto his lap, thighs straddling his own while their tongues lapped, and saliva leaked down the corners of their mouths. The taste of cheap alcohol wasn’t enough to repulse, the raw taste of each other made up all the night they lay awake, hopelessly waiting for a goodnight text that would never arrive.

Pulling back with a string of saliva, they panted, giggling ever so slightly. Mingi’s hands fell to her thighs, tracing shapes on the bare skin while hers squeezed his shoulders, fingertips dipping into the ripples of his muscles. She yelped, his hands squeezed her thighs and lips dove straight into her neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses up to her ear and down to the collarbone, finger sliding the strap of her tank top off her shoulder. Despite biting her lip, a soft moan slipped from her throat, his teeth nipping ever so slightly at the skin.

“No marks-“

“-I know, baby. Only in places you can hide them.” His voice vibrated on the column of her neck, heat pooling straight to her cunt and throbbing. Baby. Baby. That came from his mouth for her. He pulled away, opening his mouth slightly only for her to take his jaw into her palms and push him back into the headboard, slipping her tongue hard into his mouth and knocking the air from his lungs. Somewhere between a growl and a moan rumbled from his throat, hands holding a bruising grip on her hips as she made an experimental roll of her hips into his dick.

Shit.

Mingi bit her bottom lip, not hard enough for blood but enough to convey his attempt for dominance. God forbid y/n make him wither to pieces, that’s easy defeat. She rolled her hips again, feeling his cock grow hard in his jeans. Fuck his own body for betraying him.

Drawing back ever so slightly, pressing their foreheads together with hot, tangled breaths and hazy eyes, she giggled at his expression: a lost puppy whining for affection, big, beautiful eyes all glossy.

Her body adjusted to sit on his thigh, never breaking their eye contact as her lips tugged into a smirk. Her finger traced along his jaw slowly, with a featherweight to it, to his chin until disconnected entirely to place her hand over his crotch, palming his painfully solid cock.

He threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and mouth threatening to let a whimper slip with every grope.

“Mmm, feels nice, doesn’t it?” she teased, grinding down on his thigh, the friction igniting an intoxicating sensation between her legs, “But you did make me cry. So, I think you owe me.” She pulled her hand off him, clutching his shoulders again to swing her leg over and off him. Fumbling with the button of her shorts, y/n hooked her fingers around the waist, wiggling the item of clothing down her legs, panties with them.

“You’re a pretty thing.” He muttered ears tinted pink and the throbbing of his cock almost becoming unbearable. She slung her leg over his thigh again, slowly lowering her cunt onto his jeans, hands firm on his broad shoulders and scrunching his t-shirt. Mingi’s hands held her hips with a soft touch, feeling the bare skin of her thighs as she rocked lazily, lulling her head back when the warm fabric caressed her clit, the attention clearing her mind. With a dark glaze coating his eyes, his lips met her neck with short, hot breaths and sloppy kisses leaving spit along her skin in their wake. “Doin’ s’well.”

Her stomach fluttered when he flexed his thigh, her pussy dragging along his jeans and arousal leaving dark patches along the fabric. Her breathing shuddered the more she rolled her hips, moving from a slow pace to a faster one, her stomach twisted and turned at the pleasure filling her senses, Mingi’s kissing and nipping along her skin only guiding the build-up in arousal.

“Mingi…” she moaned, tilting her head to allow him more access.

“God you’re so fucking hot when you say my name,” he smirked into her neck, squeezing her thighs.

“Mingi, Mingi,” she whimpered his name like a mantra, feeling her core throb as she ground her hips at a sloppier pace, “Mingi!”

“That’s it, baby, pretty pussy’s doin’ s’well.”

“M’gonna cum-“

“-cum, make a mess, y/n. Show me how I make you feel.” Gripping his jaw with her hand, she forced him to look her in the eyes and watch her whine with every rock of her hips, his chest hammering at the way her moans slipped through her lips, like a song he’d play on repeat. Never did he expect to be back with her, let alone sit on his bed, tangled in each other like nothing ever happened. Like they were still in love.

Y/n was shocked that she’d given in to a man, let alone bask in the sensation of her pussy clenching around nothing but seeing him get so worked up over her soaking his clothes. He looked so hot with pink cheeks, frustrated at her bare cunt in front of him, one he couldn’t rut his cock into.

“Fuck! I’m so close, Min.” her grip on his jaw tightened, crashing their lips, and emitting a low but desperate moan from the boy. He bounced his leg slightly, goosebumps running along her skin. He flexed his thigh again, grinning wide like he was enjoying it more than she was, when she cried out, releasing his jaw, and dropping her head into his shoulder, the coil in her stomach winding tighter until her legs trembled. His thumbs rubbed circles over her hips, helping her ride out her orgasm, relishing in having the honour of having her mess treacle over his jeans.

“So fucking hot,” he kissed her hair, looping his arms around her waist and pulling her limp body into his chest, laying back on his bed, “did s’well.” Y/n hummed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Despite the smell of sex and sweat coaxing their skins, his cologne still allowed her muscles to relax in comfortable silence, just the sound of their panting in the room. They say that the further you are, the closer you become—right person, wrong time, all that. Y/n and Mingi were just that as they lay on the bed, of his ratty frat house with his friends and a collective of almost strangers below them in their romantic tragedies (or comedies). Feeling his fingers trace delicate heart patterns on her back, she smiled and placed a warm, gentle kiss on his cheek before catching his gentle gaze. A look only a man who was in love could give.

[Masterlist]

[Requests are CLOSED]

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

#song mingi #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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kalegreeneyes · 20 days ago

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Oct. 22 - apple - 665 words - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin is sitting on a slightly uncomfortable wooden bench in a slightly too cold park, his fingertips slowly going numb as he mindlessly thumbs through the pages of his favorite book, staring at the words but not taking any of them in.

He was doing this same thing at home, but his parents started arguing about his medical bills again and he just couldn’t stick around to listen to it, so he got his coat and his book and walked to the park near his house. He would very much like to be actually reading so he could have something to take his mind off of the fight, but his mind won’t let him. It’s bad enough being in his mid-20s and still living at home, and worse still for his parents to still be arguing about him. He sighs, closing his book and leaning back on the bench to tilt his head up towards the sky. He starts to go over the fight again, and—

“Ow, what the fuck?” he mutters, rubbing the side of his head where an…apple? just hit him. He stares at the red and orange fruit on the ground, completely perplexed.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t throw that at you on purpose, I was trying to throw it to my friend James and I saw you over here and got distracted and I am so, so sorry— are you okay?”

Remus follows the sound of the voice frantically apologizing for hitting him in the head with a fucking apple, and when he sees who did it, all thoughts of the pain in his head and the fight between his parents vanish. In front of him, with a very cute knit in his brow, is a gorgeous man in a leather jacket and fingerless gloves. He has long, black hair (Just like Lady Stardust, Remus notes. His favorite Bowie song.) and his nose is pink from the cold, complimenting the pink of his lips perfectly. Remus is absolutely transfixed.

“Oh god, are you okay? Did I give you a concussion?” he asks, and Remus shakes his head.

“No, I’m fine,” he swallows. “I’m Remus.” His eyes trail down to the rainbow pin affixed to the collar of the man’s leather jacket.

“Oh,” he sighs out in relief. “Thank fuck, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.” Dramatic. Endearing. “I’m Sirius. I…well, you’ve got every right to say no, seeing as I’m a stranger who just hit you in the head with an apple, but could I sit with you? I’ve just been watching you for a while— not in a creepy way, God,” Sirius drags a hand over his face. “This is not going well. My mate told me to shoot my shot, but I’m afraid I’ve missed entirely. I’ll just go; I’m so sorry again for hitting you with an apple,” he shakes his head, cheeks blazing red now to match his lips and the tip of his nose.

Remus is a little stunned. Maybe the apple did hit him harder than he thought, or maybe it’s just the whole interaction. Probably the latter. “You can sit with me,” he says while Sirius stoops to pick the apple up off of the ground.

Sirius looks up like a deer caught in headlights, completely surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus scoots over to make room and pats the empty space beside him. It doesn’t stay empty for long; Sirius drops himself clumsily into it and brushes his apple off on his pants before pulling a pocket knife out of his jacket.

“Wanna share?” he asks with a wide smile, and Remus doesn’t even like apples that much, but he nods anyway. It’s a lovely way to pass the time.

He doesn’t think about his parents arguing very much after that at all, not even when he gets home. He still can’t focus on his book, but he’s got something much better to be distracted by now.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstarmicrofic

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haikyu-mp4 · 3 months ago

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Hi :) I know it was your example so I'm so sorry if you wanted something more creative, but I'd really love to listen to Back For You with Oikawa please. As soon as I heard the song it made me think about reuniting with him after he's been away, I'm sorry if you don't want to write it. Thank you and have a nice day <3

Now playing... Back For You

word count; 570 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

“I’m not scared,” Oikawa said, in a defensive tone that suggested you claimed he was. You hadn’t said that, but perhaps he heard the voice at the back of your head pondering how to make him feel better about moving away tomorrow.

“You’re very brave then,” you answered softly, running your fingers through the side of his hair. At first, he leaned away so you wouldn’t mess up his hair, but then he returned so you’d caress his cheek instead. As he leaned into your touch, you stroked his cheek with your thumb. “I would be scared.”

His eyes slowly moved up until they met yours, and you pulled your hand back to intertwine your fingers with his instead. The crickets played their song outside the open door that led out into the garden, the sound carried inside by the cold evening air. You sat on the sofa, legs resting over his lap as his free hand drew patterns on your skin.

“Argentina is so far away,” you whispered wistfully as if he wasn’t still in your grasp for another 20 hours. You glanced at the clock, only 19 now.

He lifted your hands to kiss the back of yours, then the top of your bare ring finger. You’re young, foolishly in love and silently begging for him to promise you something he probably shouldn’t.

You want him to promise he’ll be back. Not just because his family and friends are here, but because he wants to come back for you.

“You’ll be busy with university, probably won’t even remember me in a few months,” he said, mixing in a chuckle as if that could deceive you.

“It’s been a long time since I had a day that wasn’t plagued with thoughts of you. Sounds peaceful,” you tease him, happy to see him break into his dramatics with an offended look.

“That was almost so romantic, and then you just had to ruin it.” And yet he drew invisible hearts above your knee while he pouted.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?” you asked, eyes following Tooru’s finger on your skin.

Tooru’s heart begged him to tell you about all the great universities in Argentina, but his brain knew asking you to give up your life here was absurd, just for a high school sweetheart. So then his heart beat louder, asking you instead. Asking you to suggest it yourself. To say you could both make a new life for yourselves as long as you were together.

“Not exactly.” His mouth didn’t listen to his heart, even with the strain it put on his throat. “Will you visit me?”

“Hopefully!” you said, straightening up your back to lean your face closer to his. “But you will come back?”

“Of course.” He leaned in too, lips pressing against yours like a feathery touch. “Maybe not long term, but… as long as the people I love are here.” His hand squeezed yours.

“Maybe there’s a chance of taking a year abroad with my degree,” you suggested slowly, jumping slightly at how his eyes widened.

When your Tooru looked at you, you could swear there were stars in his eyes.

Perhaps it was a reckless thing to indulge in, this love plagued by an uncertain future, but that’s what you do when you’re young. You grow and you learn and you love, and you come back for those who mean the most.

a/n: I love it when someone requests my example!! although, I went a bit of a different route than reuniting, hope that's okay<3

masterlist

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landosfolklore · 9 months ago

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say don't go | cl16 (pt. 1)

i'm holding out for hope for you to say "don't go"

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: you're dating ferrari formula one racing driver, charles leclerc. life should be good right? maybe it would be if you got to actually see him more. what will happen if he continues to disappoint you?

notes: angsty, based loosely on the song 'say don't go' by taylor swift, ignore inaccurate timestamps!

જ⁀➴ part 2

─────────────────────────────────

your boyfriend was the complete package. sweet, kind, loving, and a gentleman through and through. you loved everything about him, except for the fact that the two of you hardly spent any time together these days. you knew he was a formula one driver and had to constantly travel for work, and even when he was on break, he had training to do. you were very considerate and understanding of the demands of his job. it's not like you were asking to be with him 24/7 or anything.

it seemed like before the two of you started dating and at the beginning of your relationship, he made time for you. but in recent months, it was like you were in a one-sided relationship, as you made an effort and he seemed unbothered at the thought of not seeing you for a long time.

you mulled over it with your girlfriends who had different opinions varying from "dump his ass" to the more rational "sit down and have a conversation about it". so you decided to take your certified mom friend's advice and speak to him about it.

you wanted this conversation to go a certain way. you knew having expectations weren't a good idea, but this was charles. you would tell him how you've been feeling, and he would apologize. he would make things right. it would all work out. he would tell you he loved you, right?

you went to the market and bought everything you needed and decided to grab some flowers and candles too. you made up your mind; tonight would go smoothly. you and charles would make up, and all would be well.

when you got back to the hotel, you immediately got down to cooking and preparing the meal and dessert. you finished almost everything around 7:40 and went to get ready. you decided on a pretty maroon dress and kitten heels and put on light makeup with your signature red lipstick that you knew charles loved. you went back to the kitchen and started setting everything up at the table.

it was now 8:25, so you plated all the food and made everything perfect. once you were done, you looked at the clock. 8:32 it read. hmm, well, he was occasionally a latecomer. you covered the food in the meanwhile and took a seat to wait for him. you checked the time again. 8:40. okay, what was 10 minutes, right? you had a bad feeling deep down but pushed it away. you had already manifested how tonight was going to go down. nothing would ruin it.

another few minutes passed by, and you sighed, giving in to at least sending him a text.

you sat patiently... or tried to at least. to be honest, you were getting a little annoyed but also worried. what if something had happened? one part of your brain asked you while the other nagging part of your brain scoffed and said he's probably out with friends. you didn't want to listen to the nagging part of your brain any longer.

but as you looked at the clock again and saw it was 9:20, you didn't know what to think. you bit at your nails as you tried calling him. voicemail. and voicemail again. and again. now you were really worried. god, what if he'd been in an accident? or robbed? or... something. you had a tendency to think of the worst possible scenarios; charles always joked that it was a gift. it was more of a curse, honestly.

you put your phone down on the table, biting at your nails again. you battled internally on what to do. you picked up your phone again and called lorenzo, his older brother. he told you he hadn't spoken to charles since yesterday and asked arthur if he spoke to charles. arthur said they had spoken that morning and he said he had a team meeting and was gonna train for a bit after then have dinner with you. you thanked them both and hung up.

you started pacing the room. it was 9:40 now. no sign of him yet. no call. no text. god, please let him be okay. maybe you should run down to reception and see if they've heard anything. no. why would they know anything. maybe you should call joris. YES. why didn't you think of that sooner, you facepalmed. voicemail. what. his phone could not be going to voicemail right now. he always picked up the phone. c'mon joris, pick up the damn phone, you thought to yourself as you called again. but to no avail. all you got was his voicemail again.

just as you plopped down on the couch, running your hands through your hair, you heard the door's keycard beep. your head quickly turned towards the door. and lo and behold, it was charles, being carried in by joris and max verstappen. giggling. fucking giggling as you were worried sick.

max and joris greeted you and apologized for charles' condition. you waved off their apology and offered to take care of him as they laid him on the couch. as max stood up straight, he noticed the table. "fuck, i'm so sorry. if i knew you two had plans, i would've told him to come back to you," he sighed. "shit, charles. why didn't you say anything?" joris glared at the sleeping monegasque man.

he clearly went out tonight. knowing the two of you were supposed to have dinner. you were so angry. but also exhausted because of the stress. you thanked the two men for taking care of him and bringing him home then bid them goodnight.

sighing, you went to the room and changed into your pajamas. coming back to the living room area, you heard his snores. you smiled faintly. he always snored so loud when he was drunk. you exhaled and walked over to him. you shook him lightly to get up so you could help him to bed. he groaned a bit but eventually was semi-awake enough for you to get him to bed.

you helped him out of his clothes, tucked him into bed, then slid in beside him. as you nestled in, you looked at his beautiful face. god, you really loved him. but you knew what you had to do. the only way you would stay now is if he fought for you. you turned to stare at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. eventually, you fell asleep.

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #cl16 #cl16 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #landosfolklore works #landosfolklore #scuderia ferrari

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freshsturns · 9 months ago

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Chris smuttttttt

just what i needed.

- chris sturniolo x reader

a/n: ugh i’m so bad at writing i’m sorry this is horrible 😐 also such a random song but yk who cares..

warnings: smut, little swearing, pet names (baby), fingering.

summary: chris is having anxiety about work and you’re comforting him, something happens and so onnn… 😜

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ೃ⁀➷

me and chris are eating pizza we ordered about 20 mins ago at the dining table, until we hear a buzz come from chris’s phone. he picks up his phone seeing a text message from matt, the message reading “nick didn’t like the video we recorded yesterday he wants to re film it” chris sighs as he put his phone down taking a bite of his pepperoni pizza.

“what’s wrong baby?” i ask with a concerned look plastered on my face. he looks up from his plate giving me a pleading look. “i have to go film another video” he mumbles putting his pizza down and picking at his thumbs. i take my hand and place it on top of his interlocking our fingers as i ask “right now?”

“probably. let me check” chris takes his free hand and picks up the phone typing into matts chat. not long after he receives a message back “yes chris right now, hurry up and get to the garage”

“fuck sake..” i heard chris say under his breath standing up from the table and putting his shoes on. “it’s okay chris, go film il wait in your room for you” i say standing up after him placing my hand on his cheek and giving him a soft kiss and leaving the kitchen.

as i watch rupauls drag race trying to get to where nick is, chris walks into his room hand on his chest and he shuts the door behind him and leans against it. i sit up from the bed pausing the tv “how was filming?” i smile. chris says nothing as he starts to pace around the room. “chris?” i say again thinking he didn’t hear me. “baby- i cant-” he begins being cut of by his breathing, “i cant- breathe-” he begins to panic.

chris has never had a panic attack before, i have them all the time. i know how to help after matt showed me how to calm them in elementary school, matt has them a lot too. “right chris i want you to listen to me,” i say calmly. i walk over to him taking his hand from his chest and walking him over to the edge of the bed “sit down for me.”

he sits at the edge of the bed looking up at me as he tries to catch his breath. i place his shaking hand on my chest “can you feel me breathe?” i ask him. “yes- baby- what’s happening” he says through breaths.

“just breath baby, feel how i breathe and copy,” i crouch down to look him in the eyes. he takes his hands and place them on my waist as he copy’s my breathing, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling until his breathing slowly becomes more stable.

i sit down on his lap straddling him as he moves his hands under my shirt. “you okay?” i ask placing my hand on the back of his neck playing with his curls. he nods his head, “what was that, how did you know how to help?” he questions. “ a panic attack baby, i get them a lot. matt actually helped me when i had my first one” i say giving him a small smile and i move closer to his face brushing my lips against his.

chris hitches under me as he moves his hand further up my shirt and meets my boobs where he plays with my nipples. i re adjust myself on his lap making myself grind against him causing him to take a deep breath.

he takes his lips to mine and kisses me softly, his hands beginning to roam my body moving from my boobs to my waist to my thighs where he stops and squeezes. he deepens the kiss and slips his tongue into my mouth.

i moan into the kiss as i become eager for more, i grind my hips against his crotch making him groan at my actions. he pulls away from the kiss “so beautiful baby” he speaks hoarsely. he takes his hand off my thigh and unbuttons my jeans pulling them down and off my body, to which he throws them on the floor. taking his free hand he moves my thong to the side and he rubs his finger against my folds.

soft moans leave my mouth as he continues to rub me teasingly. “more” i whine. he nods at me slipping two fingers into me and begins pumping fast. my eyes roll to the back of my head as i put my head in the crook of his neck sucking on his skin.

as he pumps and curls his fingers inside of me all i can do is moan his name and grind his fingers while he watches me. “fuck” he mumbles as he hears my pretty sounds. curling his fingers and hitting the spot i loved most i begin to feel a knot in my stomach.

my walls tightened around his fingers as the knot gets more intense picking up his speed he continues to pump his fingers in and out. he takes his free hand and places it over my clit and begins rubbing in circles making my toes curl and head fall back.

after a while i release all over this fingers and his thighs moaning his name out load leaving a huge mess for us to clean up.

“that’s a good girl” chris says slowing down his pace as he kisses my forehead.

—————————————————————————

requested by: @mattybswife sorry it took me a while to write this 😣

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finnsbubblegum · 2 years ago

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I Don’t Deserve You {Part 2} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, protective joel, age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), stalking, sexual assault attempt (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight. But he felt insecure.

Words count: 2.9k

A/N: This is part 2 for I Don’t Deserve You Part 1. Thank you to everyone who read my fanfic!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

It was a usual Monday after the night Joel saved you from Josh. You woke up early and got ready to work and meet your students.

“Good morning, kids! How was your weekend?” You asked the students with a soft tone.

“I watched a movie with my dad last night!” A girl shouted.

“It was my birthday yesterday!” Another girl shouted.

They were active and you were always happy to listen to their stories. Their stories were always interesting to you. You loved how children were so pure and innocent.

“Oh really? Well, happy birthday to you! Why don’t we all sing happy birthday to Samantha?”

You invited the other students to sing the Happy Birthday song for Samantha. Each of the students followed your clap and sang the Happy Birthday song together. The day went and it was already time for the class to be dismissed.

“Okay everyone! Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to do your homework!”

Everyone was packing their bags hurriedly and you glanced at the door. The door had a rectangle transparent glass and you saw Joel. When he caught your eye, he quickly hid. You found him so cute and felt butterflies in your stomach. It felt like you were in your teenage years all over again. You shook your head and smiled. The kids were starting to leave one by one and you began to pack your stuff on the table.

“I saw you there Joel.” You teased Joel who was still hiding.

“Uhm.. Sorry.” He slowly walked inside the class and cleared his throat.

“You caught me.” He smiled shyly and put his hand on the nape of his neck.

“Are you stalking me now?” You joked.

“Absolutely not. I was just around and thought I’d stop by to see how you’re teaching the kids. Hope you didn’t teach them curse words.” He joked remembering his last joke at the bar that was cut off by Josh’s appearance.

“Of course not.” You scoffed and slightly hit his chest.

“Are you heading home now?” Joel put his hands on his waist.

“Yes, all the kids have gone home so I should go home now.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Joel gestured a movement from his hands as if he was asking you to follow him.

“Sure. Thank you.” You grabbed your purse and jacket.

Joel wasn’t actually around the area. He was not patrolling that day and couldn’t keep thinking about last night. He was worried that Josh might come to you and bother you again. After thinking about it for a few hours, he decided to visit you at school and walk you home. He thought that it was the least thing he could do to protect you. Without realizing it, he was starting to have feelings towards you.

“Do you want to come in and have dinner with me tonight? I can cook something for us.” You hoped Joel would say yes before you got in your house.

“Sure. Ellie is making friends now so she often stays out late.”

“Great. Come in.” You welcomed Joel.

You hung your jacket and Joel did the same.

“Please make yourself at home while I cook dinner.” You smiled at Joel.

Joel nodded and sat on the sofa in your living room. You walked to your kitchen, opened your fridge and took out some ingredients.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” Joel suddenly stood up and walked towards you.

“No, no. I’m good. Let me serve you dinner tonight.” Joel was your guest so you wanted to serve him.

“Okay.” Joel walked away and started to look around your house.

“You have a lot of books.” Joel stopped at your bookshelf.

“Oh, yes. I love to read. I’m a teacher.” You laughed.

“Right.” Joel chuckled.

After a few moments of banter while you were preparing dinner, you were finally done.

“Dinner’s ready.” You called for Joel.

He looked back from the sofa and hurried his way to the dining table.

“Smells good.” He sniffed.

You both started eating. You were nervous because you were scared Joel might not like your cooking. And your legs were shaking under the table.

“Hmm.. It’s delicious. Thank you.” Joel praised your food.

“Phew.. I was scared you didn’t like it.” You sighed.

“Are you kidding? This is the best meal I’ve ever had in the past 20 years.” He chuckled as he shoved another spoonful of your cooking.

“Thank you, Joel. You’re really sweet.” You were touched hearing his words.

The two of you had conversations as you finished your dinner.

“Let me wash the dishes. You cooked so I will wash the dishes.” Joel offered.

“Sure.” You gave your dishes to Joel.

You watched him from behind and got lost in your fantasy. You were imagining a life where you and Joel lived under the same roof as family. And you were the wife making dinner for your husband when he got off from work. He looked dashing from behind and his shoulder was broad. You imagined how it would feel kissing him. But you didn’t want to rush so you had to hold yourself. You hit your head and got back to reality.

“Done.” Joel wiped his hands with a towel.

“Thank you, Joel. For washing the dishes.”

“It’s nothin’. You cooked for me so it’s fair if I wash the dishes.” He shook his head.

You wondered how a man like him treated you so nice. You kept wondering why he didn’t come into your life sooner. Then you remembered why. You were half his age. But you didn’t care. As long as he made you happy, you didn’t care about anything.

You and Joel spent a few hours hanging out at your house then it was time for him to go home.

“I should probably head home.” Joel looked at you.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you for walking me home today.”

“Anytime. Thank you for the meal. It was delicious.” Joel thanked you.

You chuckled as you walked him to your door and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Joel raised his eyebrows.

“Sure. See you tomorrow.” You waved your hand goodbye to Joel.

The next day, Joel came and picked you up from work. He walked you home and had dinner with you for the second day, third day, fourth day, and it went on and on. Except when it was his turn to go on patrol, he couldn’t walk you home. But he would always tell you in advance if he couldn’t walk you home.

Joel and you often hung out in the city as well. Since you got close with Joel, Josh had never shown up. He just stared at you from afar but he had never approached you. You even had less guys flirting with you. As time went by, people were starting to recognize your relationship with him. People were making rumors and talking about you and Joel. They were talking about how far your age gap was and how Joel didn’t deserve you. He was old and ruthless but you were young and kind. You didn’t care what anyone said. Joel had never hurt you, he was always respectful, he was definitely not like what other people said. As a matter of fact, Joel had never been kind to anyone but you.

Your feelings towards Joel have grown deeper and deeper. On the other side, you had no idea how Joel felt towards you. Did he like you or did he just see you as a kid who needed protection? But you didn’t want this to end so you kept your feelings hidden until it was 2 months since you and Joel spent time together. You couldn’t hold your feelings hidden any longer.

It was another usual dinner with Joel. You watched him as he was walking outside your front porch.

“Joel.” You stopped him before he walked his way home.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows and looked back.

“Can I ask you something?” You wiped your sweaty hands to your jeans.

“Sure. What is it?” He walked his way back to your porch where you were standing, resting his hands on the handrail.

“What are we, Joel? I mean - I - I like you, Joel.” You confessed your feelings to Joel and stepped closer to him.

Instead of telling you the way he felt about you, he took a step back.

“No.” His voice was really low, he shook his head and looked down.

Your eyes were getting blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Joel quickly walked away from you.

“Joel.. Please..” You tried to stop him but you thought it was better to stay.

You were heartbroken. You went to your bedroom, covered your face with your pillow and cried all night.

On his way home, Joel was also heartbroken. He couldn’t see you cry like that, especially because of him. He regretted leaving you hanging like that. He wished he could hug you and comfort you. But he knew he shouldn’t. He had heard the rumors and he agreed to what people were saying. He regretted treating you nice if it would end up breaking your heart. He shouldn’t give you hope in the first place. Since then, Joel started avoiding you. He didn’t walk you home and didn’t have dinner with you. You and Joel ended just like that.

You hadn’t seen Joel since. Your days went so slow. Days felt weeks, weeks felt months, months felt years. It has been a month and you hated this feeling. You wanted closure so you decided to find Joel. You walked to his house and knocked on his door.

“Hi!” It was Ellie.

“Uhm.. Hi! Is Joel home?” You asked Ellie.

“Yeah! Joel! Someone’s here looking for you!” Ellie shouted and called Joel.

Joel made his way down stairs and his eyes widened when he saw you at his front door.

“We need to talk, please.” You begged Joel.

“Okay.” Joel gestured to Ellie to go, he closed the door and invited you to sit on the patio chairs at his front porch.

You sat with him but he didn’t say anything. So you started the conversation.

“Did I do something wrong, Joel?” You tried to find what was wrong to fix your relationship with him.

“No.” He replied coldly.

“It’s okay. Just tell me, Joel. Let me fix us.” You begged him.

“It’s not you. It’s me.” Joel wanted the best for you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. What do you mean?” You were confused.

“I know you heard about the rumors. They were right. I don’t deserve you. I’m old. I’ve done bad things. I’ve killed people. And you’re young, beautiful…inside out, kind, perfect and everythin’. You deserve someone way better than me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started anythin’ with you. I realized I was crossin’ the line, that's why it’s better that I stopped before I hurt you more.” Joel put his elbow on his knees as he explained to you.

“That’s not right. I don’t care what people say, Joel. You treated me so nice. You’ve never hurt me. You protect me, Joel.” You shook your head in denial.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve you.” Joel started to raise his voice.

“No, Joel. Please. Give me a chance. I can’t live without you. Please. Give us a chance.” You cried as you begged him.

Joel wanted to cry but he held it. He didn’t want to look weak. Instead he stood up and asked you to leave.

“I promise I won’t see you again.” Joel’s words made your heart even wretched.

“Joel, please..don’t..Can you at least give me a hug as a goodbye? Please?” You grabbed his wrist.

Joel wanted to hug you. He really did. But it would just make him change his mind. If he hugged you, he might not be able to let you go. So he let go of your hand and walked inside his house. You cried so loud and kneeled in front of his door. Hoping for Joel to come out and change his mind, but a few hours went by and he didn’t appear. You were getting hopeless so you decided to go home. You cried on your walk and you didn’t realize someone was following you. You grabbed your keys and went inside your house. Someone was holding your door before you closed it.

“Joel?” You hoped Joel was following you home.

“Nuh-uh baby. It’s me. Josh.” Josh smirked.

You gasped and started to shake.

“Wh-what are you do-doing?” Josh could hear you were scared.

“I told you that old man is no good, baby. You should have been with me in the first place. I wouldn’t make you cry. I’m way better than him. That old man knows it. He really doesn’t deserve you. But I deserve you.” It turned out that Josh had been stalking you and he was eavesdropping your conversation with Joel.

“No. Josh. Please get out of my house.” You tried to act like you were not scared but he could see you were shaking.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. You’re mine now.” Josh claimed you as his because he knew Joel wouldn’t be there to protect you from him anymore.

“No, please go.” You walked backwards as he slowly walked towards you.

On the other side, Joel kept thinking about what he had said to you. He knew it was for the best but somehow he felt something weird in his heart. He guessed maybe he should have hugged you goodbye. He didn’t hear your cries anymore so he decided to walk to your house. He saw your door was left open and he heard a loud thud and your scream. Joel’s heart was beating faster as he rushed inside your house.

“Stay still!” Josh was on top of you, holding your hands, trying to take off your pants.

“Josh, stop it!” You tried to push Josh away but he was too heavy.

Joel’s eyes widened as he was shocked to see what was happening. He ran towards you, grabbed Josh from behind and threw him aside. Josh was hurting laying on the floor. Joel’s eyes locked on Josh and punched him over and over again. Josh’s face was full of blood and he was begging for Joel to stop.

“Don’t you ever touch her again! You lay a hand on her again, I’ll break your arm!” Joel lifted Josh by his collar and yelled at his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Josh begged Joel for his life.

“Now get the fuck out of this house and never show your face again!” Joel pointed his finger towards the door as he raised his voice again.

Joel closed the door after Josh crawled his way out of your house. You were in shock, crying, hyperventilating, shaking, and holding your ripped shirt to cover yourself. You had never seen Joel like this before. He was scary when he was angry just like what other people in the town talked about.

“Hey, are you okay?” Joel’s voice was different from seconds ago.

He sounded very soft. He took off his jacket and put it on you.

“I got you, babygirl. I got you.” He looked at you with worried eyes. (TLOU ep 8 reference 😘)

He wiped your tears with his thumb and hugged you. His hands rubbed your back in circles until your breathing was normal again.

“Can you stand?” He asked you.

You nodded and guided him to your bedroom. He kept holding your arm, holding your weight as you walked. You opened your closet to get new clothes and changed into a new one. Joel faced the wall as you changed your clothes. He was always respectful to you. Not like the other guys you had met.

“Here.” You gave Joel his jacket back.

“Do you want me to stay?” He thought he would stay for the night to make sure you were safe.

“Will you?” You asked Joel with your puppy eyes as you sat on the bed.

“Of course, darlin’. I don’t want Josh to come here again and hurt you.” Joel walked to your bedroom door.

“Where are you going? I thought you’re staying.” You were confused.

“I am. I’m sleepin’ on the couch.”

You chuckled. Everytime he did or said something, you fell in love with him more.

“Joel, stay here.” You pat the empty space beside you on your bed.

“No. I shouldn’t.” He still kept his chivalry.

“Joel, please. I don’t think I can sleep if you’re not next to me. I feel safe when I’m with you. Please.” You begged Joel.

“Okay.” Joel shyly moved his way to your bed and laid beside you.

You moved closer to him, put your head on his chest, and rested your hands on his stomach. You could hear his heart beating faster and his body was stiff because of your movements. Joel took a deep breath and put his arms around you. He rubbed your back in circles.

“I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve you. But can I get that chance for our relationship? Give me a chance to be better for you?” He rested his chin on your head.

“You should stop being insecure, Joel. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. All the guys who flirted with me.. They weren't like you. I know for a fact they only want to get in my pants. But you’re different. Am I right?” You caressed his chest.

“No. You’re wrong.” You were shocked by his joke and raised your head to face him.

“I’m joking. Relax.” He laughed.

“Don’t ever do that again.” You put your head back to his chest and hit his chest.

“Oh! You’re bleeding! We need to get your fist cleaned up!” You took his hands worriedly.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ve been worse.” Joel chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Okay, then.” You kissed his bleeding fist that saved you from Josh.

The two of you spent the night cuddling, talking and getting to know each other. Joel told you about his past, Sarah, and Ellie as you drift into your sleep.

To be continued...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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fairytale-poll · 1 year ago

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ROUND 1D, MATCH 1 OUT OF 16!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Dimension 20:

Knight in invisible glass armor who turned the heel of her slipper into a spear and impaled the Fairy Grandmother with it to escape her false happy ending. Part of a team of princesses who want to destroy the entire fairy tale world to spare themselves and everyone else from eternally suffering. Gives weirdly good life advice.

A badass warrior in glass armor who stabs her fairy godmother with the heel of her glass slipper

Neverafter sweep!!!! Also, she is cool. Wears glass armor, tried to kill her fairy godmother with a spear, also tried to kill her stepmother.

She wears armour of glass and fights against a prewritten destiny

This Cinderella's story takes place in a world where all the fairytale characters exist but their stories have all gone wrong. It's a horror Dnd campaign, and there's also a multivariate concept where if people die, they're basically just reborn in a worse version of the story. Cinderella here is an NPC and is part of a faction called the Daughters of the Crown, which is a group of rebel nialaistic princesses who want to destroy the Neverafter to be free. She stabbed her fairy godmother in the chest with a glass shard from her shoe and she's a crazy powerful fighter. She wears full plate armor made of reflective glass so that she's essentially invisible when standing still. She's super badass but still is caring and funny. In the final battle when the PCs are fighting the Daughters of the Crown and other bad guys, she turns to their side after the other princesses are defeated and other giant villains come in, including her step mother, who became an eldritch horror. She stabs her stepmother through the heart with a shard of glass after dismissing the stepmother statement that she hurt her because it was destiny, saying that it doesn't matter if it was free will or destiny, she didn't like it. TLDR: She's a badass black woman/princess/knight

This woman has been through so much Shit. She has to go through the usual suffering of Cinderella (dead parents, abusive step-family) and then find out her entire life is a lie, just a story where she has no agency over her life? Her suffering is for someone else's amusement? So she's doing bad. Her stepmother also tries to destroy the ENTIRE universe after snapping. And okay. Maybeeee Cinderella tried to kill some people (mainly the campaign's party) but after she lost everything I can't help but feel a little bad for her. Thank you for your time.

shes ANGRY shes a WARRIOR she has GLASS ARMOR THAT SHE NEVER TAKES OFF she’s trying to END THE WORLD AND KILL EVERYONE she’s EVERYTHING to me

Once Upon a Time (in Space):

She spent decades searching every moon and planet trying to find her wife (Rose), who was kidnapped on their wedding day. Eventually, she found Rose, and they embraced, only for Rose to die in Cinder's arms. And so Cinder killed the king who had kidnapped Rose by punching through his chest and into his heart.

And then Cinder got a somewhat happy ending, in which she met Rose's clone who had Rose's memories.

What if Cinderella was a Sci-Fi lesbian? Well here she is. She has a whole love song about searching the stars for her girlfriend after their wedding was interrupted and she was taken away. She spends years searching only to when she finally finds and embraces her watch her be shot. Cinders is so devastated by this that she plunges her wedding ring into the heart of the man who shot her love killing him.

Lesbian space princess who elopes with the terrifying soldier who was previously conquering her planet and spends decades searching for her when they're separated. Listen to her song https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6w9V-gMgBF4

I think the way she punches the evil king through the heart as revenge for her wife is pretty neat.

She’s a revolutionary married to a woman, what’s not to love? From Cinders’ Song: “ When I was a little girl, my mother always told me / "Someday your prince will come, my love" / But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me”.

her girlfriend got cloned and most of said clones were brutally slaughtered in war and she searched for her girlfriend all throughout the galaxy and when they were finally reunited on the battlefield her girlfriend died. and a clone of her girlfriend who due to technical errors retained her memories, so does that count as the same girlfriend? theseus's girlfriend? anyway vote for cinders she's been through hell

Lesbian!! Has to search for her lost love Rose with her glass wedding ring that changes color when its near its partner!! Gets to embrace Rose once again for one final moment before the villain kills Rose right in front of her!! So Cinders kills him in return!! And she's left as (almost) the only surviving main character from her own album but!! She is eventually reunited with a clone of Rose, and while they cannot have a truly 'happy ever after' together they are the ones graced with the closest thing to it

SPACE LESBIANS (she's in love with Rose Red, who gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders searches the galaxy to find her, waiting for her white ring to turn crimson, indicating that its twin was near) She took her name from the ashes of her burning planet <3 She also killed Old King Cole >:)

shes a tragic lesbian and killed a violent dictator shes literally the best

shes gay shes traumatized she dates both rose red and sleeping beauty. badass space wanderer looking for her wife

Her wife Rose gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders spend the next thirty years looking for her. She finds her (:D) and then Rose dies (D:) and then Cinders kills the guy who killed Rose (girlboss).

shes a lesbian. she lost her wife, Rose (yes, as in sleeping beauty) the day they got married bc she was kidnapped. she spent 20 YEARS looking for her. as soon as she found her wife, Rose DIED IN HER ARMS. Cinders has gone through Too Much to lose this poll

(Her info from the wiki) the Princess of a planet burnt by King Cole's army, after it is ceded by her stepmother. She is imprisoned, meets Rose and plans to marry her. She is released by her godmother for the wedding, then flees when the attack happens, spending thirty years looking for Rose. Her half of the wedding ring will light up when she finds Rose.

"When I was a little girl, my mother always told me 'Someday your prince will come, my love' But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me I looked to the stars for you, my love" She's lesbian Cinderella IN SPACE. She fell in love with her wife in prison and they ran away to have a secret marriage but the empire kidnapped Rose on their wedding night and Cinders had to leave her behind. She searches for Rose for decades with the glass ring that guides her to its twin on her wife's finger. She finally reunites with her love after Rose rips three supersoldiers to pieces with her bare hands (hot) but then then the evil king kills Rose so Cinders fucking punches through his heart. And then a clone of Rose (who is also lesbian Sleeping Beauty IN SPACE) finds her cradling her wife's body and they have a happy reunion(?) and maybe they didn't have a happy ending BUT WHAT IF THEY HAD EACH OTHER? HUH? AAAAAH

she’s everything. she’s a princess from a long since conquered planet. she was imprisoned to make a statement of the brutal reign of old king cole. she met her wife while she was in prison, a beautiful brutal soldier covered in scars from battles. cinders and rose fell in love, so cinders’ godmother in white broke her out of jail so rose and cinders could be together. they were going to be married, except that OLD KING COLE intervened and kidnapped rose to make her the genetic base of his unholy army. so cinders spends THIRTY YEARS searching the galaxies for her love (and sings a really cool song about it called “Cinders’ Song”) until finally she arrives during the final battle just in time to see old king cole SHOOT ROSE DEAD. so cinders punches the king so hard (with her wedding ring) that he just Crumples Into Dust. the end! (no we do not talk about the fiction.)

lesbian, for one, and for two i don't really care i just think it'd be cool if she got in/if she made it past the first round

#this match is going to be incredibly intense and chaotic #cinderpoll #round 1 #round 1d #cinderella #dimension 20 #dimension 20: neverafter #dimension 20 neverafter #neverafter #d20 #dropout #cinders #once upon a time in space #the mechanisms #fairytale #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

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xo-cori · 1 year ago

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because second’s not the same

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: morals become blurred in a motel room with your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.

warnings: smut (MDNI), comphet on reader’s end, internalized homophobia, lots of angst, cheating, sorry owen you seem cool, submissive top!abby ftw, hair pulling, fingersucking, facesitting, abby makes reader answer a call while getting down n dirty, they both hate men (real)

a/n: my first fic on this godforsaken app, hopefully it’s okay! this is based off of an old halsey song called “is there somewhere,” i highly recommend listening while you read

When your phone chimes twice at exactly ten o’clock on a Friday night, your heartbeat quickens and the air is stolen from your lungs. Your body seems to know who it is before you do. Maybe that should concern you or serve as a reminder of how much of a problem this is becoming, but instead, you unlock your phone and read the much anticipated message.

abby: Hey

abby: What are you up to tonight??

you: hey, i was just reading a bit before bed

abby: Sounds like a real party

you: shut up lol

you: why do you ask?

abby: Don’t make me say it

you: i’m making you say it

There’s a hesitance on Abby’s side, made obvious by how the text bubble appears and disappears as she types and deletes a response. It takes her a good minute to send another message.

abby: Just wanted to know if you’d meet me

abby: Please

you: there we go. be there in 20

Before you know it, you’re driving fifteen miles over the speed limit, chest tight and craving a release that only Abby can bring. You eventually step out of your car and into the near-empty parking lot of the old motel that you’ve become awfully familiar with these past few weeks.

Your feet guide you along the farthest side of the building, straight towards a room marked ‘93,’ and you invite yourself in.

In less than five minutes, your shirts are on the floor and her hands are on your hips and god, her thigh feels so good between yours. She always seems to know exactly what you need. More importantly, she wastes no time with giving it to you.

“Fuck,” Abby says, “been waiting for this all week.”

You nod in agreement, lost in the way she grinds you onto her with seemingly no effort. She sighs contentedly when your back arches, chest pressing into hers, enveloping her in your warmth and melting away all the stress of a long day. There’s a piece of heaven in this room with her. How could she worry about anything outside of it?

“Me too,” you reply. One of your hands grasps at her shoulder in attempt to steady yourself, caressing the tense muscle, while the other gently tugs her hair. The dirty blonde strands feel like silk between your fingers and you can smell the pine shampoo that she uses. It invades all of your senses. It makes you desperate for more. So, you tug harder. Her head falls back against the headboard with a groan and you use it as an opening, diving in to press your lips to her neck.

It’s messy, just how Abby likes it. Her grip on you tightens and she lets out a broken gasp.

She needs this just as much as you do, if not more– but you’re much more generous with the teasing.

“Feel good?” You mumble into her throat, before picking another patch of skin to suckle on. Every touch sends a bolt of electricity up her spine and decorates her freckled skin with goosebumps.

Still, Abby does what she does best, and clings to any power she still has. You don’t resist when she grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you back onto the bed. In fact, you only spread your legs wider so she can situate herself between them. Then, without wasting another moment, her lips come crashing down onto yours.

It’s always your favorite part of the night; when she kisses you so passionately that you can almost fool yourself into thinking it means something.

This isn’t supposed to mean anything, though.

You assure yourself that the sparks you feel are all make-believe, silently wrestling with the fact that you’ve never once felt this with Owen. Not even close.

Her tongue quickly finds yours in a heated battle for dominance that she’s already lost. There’s no telling just how long this goes on for– you’re so focused on the feeling of her large hands running up and down your body, soothing all the shame you feel about this arrangement as you caress her cheek with your thumb.

It’s a loving gesture. Too loving, Abby thinks. She shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but she does.

When she pulls away, your half-lidded eyes land on the redness on her face, her swollen lips, her hair that’s all messy from your wandering fingers. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts a glow to one side of her face, and a shadow on the other. The thumb that was once on her cheek starts moving toward her mouth, until it pushes past her waiting lips and she accepts it with a pleased hum.

You watch her intently as you press down on the center of her tongue. Her brows furrow up and she lets out a whine.

After a few more moments, you pull your thumb from Abby’s mouth and smear her own saliva across her lips. She opens her eyes to look down at you, finally, and you offer a warm smile. “You just take it.” You observe aloud. “Whatever I want, you just let it happen.”

It’s a stark difference from your relationship with Owen. There’s never any concern for what you want; though, to be honest, you wouldn’t be in a relationship with him if you could get actually get what you want. It’d be Abby’s apartment you go to every weekend. There’d be no motel and no deleted messages and no acting like mere acquaintances when Owen gets all of his friends together, including her and you.

If you could get what you wanted, you don’t think you’d ever want anything else ever again.

“Yeah.” She agrees, slightly muffled until you fully pull your hand away. “Whatever you want.”

Part of you feels bad. You have this woman wrapped around your finger, and you have to act like it’s nothing more than a convenience.

In reality, it’s everything to you.

So, the other part of you plans to take whatever you can from her.

“You really mean that?” You ask.

“Would I lie to you?” She asks in return.

You pat her cheek. “Lay down, then.”

Without another word, Abby does as she’s told. The two of you switch positions and she watches you peel off the rest of your clothes, while she lays in a grey sports bra and a pair of boxers.

She starts to feel excited when she thinks you’ll move down further like usual, your face nestled between her legs until you’re pulling orgasm from orgasm out of her.

Her heart nearly stops, though, when she sees you pull off your own panties and begin crawling up her body.

‘Excited’ doesn’t do it justice. You’ve hardly done anything and she already feels like she might die of happiness.

You feel her hands grab your ass, encouraging you to move much faster than you are, and you hesitantly oblige. “You can push me off if you need to, yeah?” You clarify. “Don’t wanna suffocate you or anything.”

Abby nods with a quiet mm-hmm only to appease you, but in her mind, suffocating to death while you sit on her face would be an honor. She’d probably die beneath you before the thought of pushing you off ever crosses her mind. For now, though, you do your best to be gentle as she ushers you to fully hover over her mouth.

Then, she pulls you down onto it.

A strangled moan escapes you when her tongue immediately finds its target, her patience clearly worn thin as she latches to your clit. Your hands fly down to grab her hair in attempt to ground yourself, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’re having an out-of-body experience.

The worst part? Only Abby can make you feel this way.

Guilty, and so, so good.

Maybe she doesn’t know the extent of your feelings, but she knows your body like the back of her hand, and she uses that to her advantage. Her fingers dig into the pillowy flesh above your hip bones, surely hard enough to leave a few bruises, but you never complain about marks until you see them in the morning.

“Abs,” you manage breathlessly, “ease up, baby–”

You’re cut off by another moan as she somehow manages to pull you down further, unrelenting and making it impossible for you to escape. Not that you’d want to, anyways. So, you just grab her hair with one hand and grab the headboard with the other as your eyes flutter shut.

That is, until you hear your phone vibrate on the bedside table. Once, twice, three times; you soon realize that it isn’t stopping.

“Fuck.” You groan.

Abby looks up at you and slightly moves you down so she can speak, seemingly much more entertained by this than you. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Owen,” you say truthfully, “I was supposed to go over to his place tonight, but here we are.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you blew him off for me?”

“No shit. I’ll just silence it and pretend I fell asleep.” You grumble. Then, you reach over to grab the phone before she takes a hold of your wrist.

“Answer it.” She says.

You can’t help but laugh despite the forming pit of anxiety in your stomach, because you know that she’s dead serious. “What?”

“You heard me. Answer it or I’ll stop.” She repeats, making your eyes widen.

“…Fine, but can you please—” You’re interrupted by Abby pressing the green button for you, and you quickly bring the phone towards your ear.

The sound of Owen’s voice makes your chest feel tight. “Hey,” he says with an obvious concern in his voice. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you can only let out a gasp when you feel Abby’s lips wrap around your clit. Thankfully, her tongue moves more slowly than before, deciding to show you some mercy. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, I fell asleep– I’m sorry, I really don’t feel good today. Think I might’ve caught something.”

It’s a pathetic excuse, but you can only hope he buys it. “Oh, that’s… uh, not good.” He mumbles, which makes you roll your eyes. “Do you want me to bring anything to your place? I have this cold medicine that could literally heal the bubonic plague, and I’m pretty sure I have some soup in one of these cabinets somewhere,”

You can hear him rummaging around on the other line. “No!” You blurt out. The last thing you need is Owen stopping by just to find out that you aren’t home. “No, I’m okay. Appreciate it, though.”

“You sure? If you’re worried about me getting sick, I can just leave it outside the door.” He continues.

“Really, Owen, it’s fine. Pretty sure I’ll feel better in the morning,” you assure him.

He sighs. “Whatever you say. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I’ll bring whatever you need.”

He’s kind. Too kind, considering your current situation. Abby’s mouth is latched to the most sensitive parts of you, her blue eyes staring up at you as you try your hardest to keep your voice steady. She kneads at the back of your thighs, getting you into a rhythm while you rut against her tongue.

All the while, you’re on the phone with a man who deserves much better. You’re aware of this. You tilt your head back with a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” you reply, “thanks, Owen. ‘Night.”

You don’t even wait for him to say it back before you hang up the phone, quickly throwing it off of the bed onto the carpeted floor. Abby smiles, and you can feel it. You reach down to grab a handful of her hair and pull it as hard as you can– which isn’t very hard, but it still makes her whine. “Fuck you,” you huff, thighs tensing on either side of her head, “I’m so close, Abs.”

Any annoyance you feel is overshadowed by the orgasm creeping up on you much quicker than usual. You already know that you’ll never forgive yourself for being so turned on by something so horrible.

Abby sticks her tongue out so that you can ride it, letting out moans of encouragement as you finally tip over the edge. Your mouth falls open and a gush of wetness fills Abby’s, which she happily laps up with her warm tongue. Her hands wander over your shivering body, listening to your muffled moans with her eyes trained on your face; more specifically, the tears that begin to run down your cheeks.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to crawl off of her face and crash into the bed beneath you, much to Abby’s dismay, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she crawls to your side, placing a strong arm over your stomach so she can pull you closer.

Though all of your instincts scream to push her away, you just curl into her and bury your face in the crook of her neck. She thinks maybe, just maybe, everything is fine; of course, until she hears you let out a quiet sob. One of her hands comes up to rub your back, a soothing gesture that only makes you cry harder.

“Hey,” Abby whispers, “are you… did I do something wrong? Was it the phone thing? ‘Cause if it is, I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“It isn’t that.” You mutter.

It’s only a half-lie. Honestly, you aren’t crying because you spoke to your boyfriend as if you weren’t hooking up with his ex, no. You’re crying because you thought it was the hottest thing ever.

“Isn’t it, though?” She questions. “Seriously, I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Abs– I swear, it’s not you, it’s just… this. All of this. I don’t like it.” You do your best to reassure her, but it only causes more confusion.

“What, and you think I do? Because I don’t. I like you, though, so I deal with it. That’s what we agreed to.” Abby says. You can tell she’s upset no matter how gentle her voice is. There’s a certain bite to it, a venom that you’re quick to pick up on. “He’s my friend too, you know. This isn’t easy for me either.”

This comment makes you rear back a bit, looking up at her with furrowed brows. “I know that, Abby. None of this is easy for either of us. He’s my boyfriend, and he was yours at one point, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” she scoffs.

You give her a stern look. “I’m serious. This is gonna end one way or another. Someone’s gonna find out.”

Her grip on your waist tightens. “No one’s gonna find out if we don’t let them find out.”

“You don’t know that.” You shake your head. “All it takes is one fuck up.”

“So, what do you wanna do? You wanna break this off now and go back to being acquaintances?” Abby asks, voice raised defensively.

“Obviously not!” You yell, sitting up and dragging the comforter along so you can cover yourself. “I love you, Abby. I love being with you and talking to you and—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that.” She interrupts you, which is probably for the better.

It’s different for Abby, being one of Owen’s closest friends, because he’s unaware of how well she knows you and so he feels comfortable confiding in her about your relationship. A big problem he seems to have is that you’ve never once said the word love. Not to him, at least. Not about him.

Yet, here you are, throwing that word around just for her.

She wants to feel honored, but she finds herself only feeling guilt. The kind that makes her throat tighten and her heart drop.

You groan in frustration. “But it’s true!”

“So make it untrue!” She shouts back. “You can’t just… say shit like that, and expect me to be okay with it. You’re supposed to love Owen.”

A confession bubbles up in your chest, one that you know you should shake away, but your mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “But I don’t.” You mumble. “I want to. I just can’t.”

Abby stares at you like she’s seen a ghost. All conversations she’s had with Owen about you– ones about how he’d propose to you someday, wondering if you’d want to have kids, asking if it was too early on in the relationship to think about saving for a house– they all become null. The worst part? Abby thinks she might know exactly how you feel. “You can’t? What does that mean?” She asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” You reply. “I try, but I can’t. We go on dates, and the whole time, I’m just waiting for it to be over. We watch a movie together, and I pretend to fall asleep so he doesn’t try anything. It’s exhausting, Abby. None of it feels right. Every single fucking guy I’ve been with– it never feels right. The only relief has been you.”

Abby listens to your rant with a blank expression, reaching up to wipe some stray tears from your cheeks with her thumb. “So, you’re gay.” She says.

You quickly grab her wrist and shove her hand away. “I’m not gay.” You hiss.

She sighs. “You just sat on my face. You’re a little gay.”

“Okay, fine, maybe a little!” You throw your hands up defensively. “But I don’t like other women. I like you.”

Truthfully, it’s all too much for Abby to take in at once; she does her best to appear, knowing her best bet is to calm you down, but she can’t imagine how much it would break Owen to know this. To know that he’s now been left by two women due to a sexuality crisis. Would he think it’s his fault? Would he guess that Abby had something to do with it? She likes you too, maybe more than she knows, but it’s an impossible situation.

When you’re met with silence on Abby’s end, you continue. “You’re gonna think I’m horrible for this, but it’s true; I’ve been waiting for him to fuck up so I have a reason to leave him. Some nights, he tells me he’s going to a party and I’ll go to sleep hoping I wake up to a text from Manny about how Owen got a little too drunk and some girl looked enough like me,” you shrug, “I’ve had that scenario in my head for weeks. It’s so convenient.”

“You’re fucked up,” Abby shakes her head, “fantasizing about him cheating while you’re sleeping with his friend? Jesus.”

“But it’s true, right? Then I could just leave him. No goodbye, no nothing. I’d give him all his sweatshirts back and let him see me wearing yours instead.” You say, and she immediately recognizes that tone in your voice. Something dark, something you put on when you know what you want and you’re set on getting it.

It hurts to hear you talk about her friend like he’s nothing more than an obstacle. It hurts even more to know that, deep down, she’d felt the exact same way once.

Wishing he’d leave her, knowing that he never would.

“Yeah.” She huffs, now visibly doing her best to avoid eye contact. Her eyes skitter around the room and it doesn’t take long for you to regret speaking your mind. “That sounds like an easy way out, but you should know by now that there’s nothing easy about being with Owen. Nothing’s easy about cheating, either.”

You nod in agreement. There’s a heavy silence after that, one that leaves you both staring down and biting your cheeks and feeling like all your sins had been laid out in front of you. The weight of it all is overbearing, but still so worth it.

“It’s easier with you,” you mutter after a minute, “and I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel the same.”

“I wouldn’t.” Abby agrees, deciding to leave it at that. “Do you… uh, do you wanna stay the night? Here, with me?”

Finally, your eyes meet hers, and she hates the way this simple action reignites the spark inside of her. You tilt your head. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t really return the favor, huh?”

Her jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as she fights back a smile. She shouldn’t be so infatuated with you– your every movement, every word– but she is.

The smile escapes her efforts and she shakes her head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut

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