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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

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Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

#josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark smut #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #thg peeta #peeta x reader #peeta x you #peeta x y/n #peeta smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

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Don’t Let Go

“Fuck- oh, shit, Steve, what-” Robin collapses to the ground next to him, worried hands waving frantically around his body, unsure how to help. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s alright, take a breath, Steve, you’ll be okay.”

He retches again. Watches, detached, as red streaks into the bowl. “Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “That- that’s blood. Okay. Okay, this is fine, we’re okay. I don’t- I don’t really know how to help you, Steve, I’m trying to stay calm, I swear, but you know how easily I get worked up and-” she shuts her mouth and takes a few deep breaths. “Steve? Can I touch you?”

He tries to think about it. Tries to think about anything other than the memories flashing through his head. Nods.

She breathes out a shaky, grateful sigh. “Okay, good, that’s good, thank you. Um, I’m gonna- my hand. I’m gonna put it on your back, okay? I’m just gonna rub a bit. Just like this. Try to match your breathing, okay? When I rub up, you breathe in. When I rub down, you breathe out. No pressure, just nice, slow breaths, okay? Here, up, so in, breathe in. Now down, so breathe out. In, out. Easy does it, Steve-o, you’re alright.” She grabs a wad of toilet paper and brings it to Steve’s face. “Let’s clean you up a little, yeah? Any chance you wanna tell me what that was about?”

He lets her clean his face off, takes a shuddering breath, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, Jesus- okay, hey, alright, Steve, it’s okay. I’m right here. Is me touching you still okay?”

Her touching him is usually fine. He’d say always—if he could speak—but there have been times he’s reacted so unfavorably to her touch… it’s for the best she asks. Even if the majority of the time, the answer is yes.

The answer is yes tonight, as well, but words are too difficult when he’s trying not to drown in his own tears, so he tips sideways into her, lets her hold his weight up as she rubs his back and arm, comforting him. “That’s okay, Steve. It’s alright. We’re fine. I do think we should talk about this one, though, it hasn’t hit you that hard in a while. Which I know is kinda hypocritical, I mean I’ve slept over every night for like the last month in a row. So I get it. But I do think talking about it could be good. But, uh, we’ll wait a bit. Let you calm down some first.”

He does eventually calm down, at least enough to try to talk, and he does, disjointedly telling Robin about the nightmare. He doesn’t know where to start, and she shushes him. “Start with whatever you can. Baby steps. Small things, one at a time.”

He shudders. It’s not a small thing, the thing taking up every inch of his brain, it’s so big and consuming and taking over and- “So much,” he manages. “So much blood. Thought- thought it was mine. ‘N maybe some of it was, I dunno, but it was Dustin, a-and E-” he breaks off, heaves, manages to take a breath somehow, and the name doesn’t stick in his throat. “Eddie. I was- I was too late, Robs, too late, he was- I tried, I tried, there was so much blood, he- he looked at me and-”

Robin shushes him again, pulls him closer and wraps her arms around him, rocks them back and forth. “‘S alright, Steve, hey, take a breath, c’mon. One big one, I know you can, just one breath for me.”

He manages a medium-sized breath, enough to make Robin happy, enough to make the lump in his throat recede some, enough to let him finish. “He said it’s okay. That- that he didn’t expect me to save him- to care- and I- Robs. I- I kissed him.” He vaguely realizes he’s trembling.

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down his back again. “Can- can I ask if you’ve, uh, thought about that before?”

Steve sniffles, ducks his head, nods. “I’ve had a few dreams. Not nightmares. J-just, like, little things. Sitting together on the couch talking about nothing, going on dates, cuddling in bed and- I do want it, but Robs, I- I can’t, I can’t, he’s gone-” and Steve’s gone, collapsing into sobs again, not even hearing Robin as she’s trying to tell him something.

He notices when she moves away, and he lets her, because somewhere in his subconscious he remembers how she is about touch, and how sometimes it’s too much. So she moves away and he stays on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing.

She’s back a few minutes later, a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, Steve, shh, you’ve gotta calm down a little, which I know isn’t helpful but you’re gonna throw up again if you keep going, and then I’m gonna freak out even more, and then where’re we gonna be? We’re both gonna be freaking out and no help to each other. Hey, slow breaths, it’s alright, copy my hand again, yeah? Up and down, in and out, okay?”

She moves suddenly, says, “Oh, thank God you’re here, I’m useless, here,” and moves completely out of Steve’s space.

She moves back in again a second later, except it’s not Robin, the hands are different, bigger, and he stiffens up, lifts his head, and freezes when he sees who it is. “Eddie,” he breathes, and Eddie gives him a small smile.

“Hey, Steve. You doin’ alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers again, so relieved he can’t bring himself to care about how he normally acts, just burrows into Eddie.

And Eddie lets him, opens his legs to give Steve a stable place to sit, lets Steve tuck his head in Eddie’s shoulder, even puts a hand on Steve’s head. “‘S alright,” he murmurs. “I don’t really know what you dreamed about but it’s okay, I swear, I’ve got some sort of idea it was about me but I’m fine, I swear, I’m okay, got a little chewed up but you got me out. We’re okay, we’re fine. I promise.” He rubs his other hand up and down Steve’s back, like Robin had been doing, and Steve does his best to follow the pattern, except Eddie’s rubbing his back a little too fast, and all he feels is the panic coming back.

Suddenly Eddie stops rubbing. “Oh- oh, Stevie, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then continues rubbing, slower. “Robin told me you were trying to match your breathing to my hand rubbing your back. It’s a good idea, and I’m- I’m proud of you for initiating it. Here we go, nice and slow, in and out.”

Eventually Steve’s breathing slows back down enough for him to say something. “Sorry.”

Eddie hums. “What? Sorry? What for?”

“You havin’a come out here.”

“That’s not something you ever need to apologize for,” Eddie tells him seriously. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Steve manages to lift his head and look Eddie in the eye for a few seconds. “There you are,” Eddie whispers with a soft smile. “It’s alright, Steve. I’ll always be here if you need me, m’kay? Now, how about we get off the bathroom floor?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, moving out of Eddie’s space and trying to stand, only to collapse again. “Fuck, sorry,” he mutters. “Legs’re asleep.”

“That’s alright, you’re not too heavy, c’mon, I gotcha. You wanna brush your teeth real quick?”

Steve notices the taste in his mouth for the first time and makes a face as he nods, moving with Eddie’s help over to the sink. “Grab on here,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“M’kay.” He brushes his teeth, looking down at the sink, hearing Eddie bustle around as he flushes the remainder of Steve’s nightmare and disappears back into the room for a moment, drawers opening and closing before Eddie make a reappearance, standing this side of too close. Steve welcomes it, finishes brushing his teeth and leans back into Eddie when he’s done. “Not sure I can sleep,” he murmurs, not looking in the mirror. He doesn’t want to confirm how he knows Eddie’s looking at him. He knows, if he meets Eddie’s eyes, he’ll see pity.

“D’you wanna try? Or just wanna head downstairs? We can watch shitty movies and make fun of the acting.”

He thinks about it. Thinks about laying back down, the dark creeping in, being unable to see Eddie even if he knows he’s looking directly at him. His breath sticks in his throat. “Dow- downstairs. Please.”

“M’kay. Wanna bring Robin?”

“No. She’s gotta shift t’morrow morning. Needs to sleep.”

“So do you,” Eddie murmurs, enough levity in his voice it doesn’t sound judgmental. “Wanna bring anything downstairs?”

Steve sighs as he tries to think. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay. You ready to go then?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t- I can’t-” he shakes his head, makes a bitten-off, frustrated noise. “Don’t wanna let go.”

“‘S okay. You don’t have to.” A hand appears in his field of view, palm-up, open and inviting. He takes it. “Is this enough for now? Till we get downstairs?”

Steve thinks about it, then nods, squeezing once as Eddie steps away, leaving their hands linked. “Sorry,” he mutters again, even though he knows Eddie’s going to tell him to stop apologizing. “Dunno why I’m like this.”

Eddie chuckles softly. “Pretty sure you get a free pass to act like this as much as you want, Stevie. You’ve been through hell more’n anyone ever should.” He tugs on their joined hands, a small smile hovering on his lips. “And quit apologizing.”

“No promises,” Steve says instead of what he wants to. I’m like this because it was you. Because I love you. Because I’m too much of a coward to say anything.

Eddie stills like he hears it all anyways. All he does is wrap his free hand around Steve’s wrist, gripping for a moment before releasing him, gently tugging him out of the bathroom.

Robin’s sitting up in bed, lamp on, waiting for him. He feels bad, but still too shaken up to release Eddie. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

She glances over at Eddie with a flick of her eyebrows, and he snickers as she looks back at Steve. “Don’t apologize, dingus. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nods, tries to smile. “Love you, Robbie.”

“Gross,” she says with a smile, but grabs his free hand as they walk by. “Love you too.”

They get downstairs and Eddie stops by the TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Steve thinks about it. Thinks about the movies he owns, the way he’s feeling, and shakes his head. “Want some water.”

Eddie chuckles. “Probably should’ve been my first thought. Whaddya wanna do after?”

Steve shrugs. “Just… don’t wanna be alone.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment before pulling him into a hug. He realizes, as his nose mashes into Eddie’s shoulder, he’d been curling into himself. “C’mon,” Eddie murmurs. “Water then couch, m’kay?”

Steve nods, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s waist, letting his eyes close as he tucks his face into the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. His hair tickles Steve’s forehead. He doesn’t move, just relaxes, tightening his hold when Eddie starts to move them.

“Gotta move for a second,” Eddie murmurs eventually. “Can’t drink the water with your face mushed into my neck. And the last thing you want right now is a dehydration headache.”

Steve knows he’s right, can already feel the tightening that means a headache is coming on, and reluctantly untangles himself, holding out a hand for the glass. It wobbles dangerously when it’s in his grip, and Eddie’s hand comes back to wrap around the glass, overlapping Steve’s fingers, steadying him. “Easy does it,” he murmurs, guiding the glass up to Steve’s lips. “A little at a time.”

Steve drinks slowly, allowing Eddie to take the glass after a few sips, only for him to put it down and pick something else up. A pill, he sees when Eddie brings his hand closer, and he’s at least steady enough to hold that and slip it into his mouth, and by the time he does Eddie’s got the water back up by his face again. “Thank you,” Steve murmurs eventually, instead of the I’m sorry that wants to come out.

Eddie smiles, small and fond. “My pleasure. Couch?”

Steve nods, so they walk over together, Eddie placing the water on the side table before arranging them on the couch. He sits down first, then tugs Steve almost on top of him, a gentle hand on his neck guiding Steve’s head back to his shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s fingers running up and down Steve’s spine, before he breaks the silence. “Wanna tell me what happened? All Birdie said was you had a nightmare and thought I was, uh. Gone.”

Steve heaves a sigh. “That’s pretty much it. You and Dustin, but you especially, and I… I dunno. And it wasn’t even one of those dreams that made sense, or anything, it’s just all of a sudden there I was, and there was so much blood, and I think some of it was mine but I was fine, Dustin was in bad shape but was gonna make it, but you…” he shakes his head. “Told me you didn’t expect me to save you, didn’t think I’d care, and that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard you say so I kissed you, and you… you died. Didn’t say anything. Just… there one second, gone the next, like I had killed you.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can definitely see how that would’ve freaked you out. Especially given that you’re straight. Which! Is not the point. Sorry. Um.”

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Um. Straight, that is.”

Eddie freezes. “No?”

“No.” Steve shifts away, hates the feeling of Eddie’s hand slipping off his back, but hates the thought of Eddie being uncomfortable because of him even more. “I like both. Um. Like Bowie? Robin told me that’s a thing.”

Eddie chuckles. “That it is, Stevie. Thanks for telling me.”

Steve shoots him a look. “You’re okay with it?”

Eddie frowns. “It would be kinda hypocritical of me to not be, wouldn’t it?”

Steve waves a hand around. “Not that. The fact that I like you, and had a dream that freaked me out and you came over and oh my god, all of that was false pretenses, wasn’t it, fuck, I’m sorry, Eddie, I swear I wasn’t thinking about that, the- the dream really did freak me out, and I-”

“Steve,” Eddie says, putting a hand on his forearm. “Hey. Calm down before you spiral into another panic attack, alright? It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me in the least.” He lets out a breathless chuckle. “Actually, I guess that would be kinda hypocritical of me, too.”

Steve blinks. “What would?”

“Me freaking out about you liking me.” He stares for a moment before looking away, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “I had the most unfortunate crush on you in high school. Admittedly, then it was purely based on looks. But then Spring Break from hell happened, and I learned you’re actually a really good guy, and the crush transitioned into something more than just surface-level.” He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting for Steve.

Steve stares at it, then lifts his gaze to Eddie’s face. “You… like me?”

“I do.”

A shy smile begins to grow on Steve’s face as he ignores Eddie’s outstretched hand in favor of leaning back in, setting his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiles as Eddie chuckles and wraps an arm around his back. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Steve asks quietly. “About what we want to do and be?”

“We can wait as long as you want,” Eddie promises. “Just as long as tonight, we can stay right here.”

Steve giggles quietly. “Deal.” He’s silent for a few seconds before the giggles start again. “Robin’s gonna be so pissed I got a boyfriend before she got a girlfriend.”

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

Side note, I may be convinced to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants it… I don’t know what that part 2 would entail but if y’all want it (or anything really, my asks are always open) let me know! Thanks for reading! ❤️

#stranger things #steddie #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #nightmares #tw nightmares #tw vomit #because of the aforementioned nightmares #panic attacks #steve harrington has ptsd #they all do but this specifically is about him #starambles

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natsgrave · 5 months

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GRAVES MASTERLIST

from heartwarming tales that tug at your emotions to thrilling adventures that leave you on the edge of your seat, this masterlist offers a diverse range of stories to suit every reader's taste. whether you're a reader looking for your next favorite story or a writer seeking inspiration, this masterlist is designed to connect you with the vibrant storytelling.

━━━━ ⧗ most work contain angst and fluff. ━━━━ ᗢ be polite or get blocked. ━━━━ ⧗ welcome gays, leave men. ━━━━ ᗢ dom!female!reader x sub!wandanat ( scarlizzie ) ━━━━ ⧗ english is not my first language, so excuse my poor grammar and poor writing style. ━━━━ ᗢ #natsgrave — my personal hashtag.

━━━━ ⧗ #grave fic reco's — fic reblogs.

━━━━ ᗢ #graves iq reco's — funny / wholesome quotes that i found.

W. MAXIMOFF | E. OLSEN request open!

━━━━ ᗢ tolerate it | pt. 2 While you were out building other worlds, where was I? You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins? ━━━━ ᗢ midnight rain She was sunshine, I was midnight rain. She wanted a bride, I was making my own name, chasing that fame. ━━━━ ᗢ new year's day I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's day. Please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. ━━━━ ᗢ inside my palm She said; the whole world can fit inside my palm. ━━━━ ᗢ cake The role you made me play of the fool, how you laugh when you lie, I got a list of names and yours is in red underlined. Oh, look what you made me do. ━━━━ ᗢ scary witch The stars in your eyes shined brighter in tupelo, and if you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you'll always know me. ━━━━ ᗢ flirting Baby, was it over then? Is it over now? ━━━━ ᗢ boobs There's nothin' like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad. No one likes a mad woman, you made her like that. ━━━━ ᗢ do you want my number? I'm captivated by you, baby, like a fireworks show. I see sparks fly, whenever you smile, get me with those green eyes, baby. ━━━━ ᗢ bus The old lady thinks that you and lizzie make a really good couple. ━━━━ ᗢ mommy I loved you in secret. I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets, picture of your face in an invisible locket. And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis. People started talking, putting us through our paces, I knew there was no one in the world who could take it. ━━━━ ᗢ cold And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name. And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away. That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend ━━━━ ᗢ use me' You're a mansion with a view, do the girls back home touch you like I do? ━━━━ ᗢ kids' And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. ━━━━ ᗢ distant In a world of boys, she's a gentlewoman. ━━━━ ᗢ she's back Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time. ━━━━ ᗢ soulmate What a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away. Taking down the pictures and the plans we made. Big mistake, you broke the sweetest promise that you never should have made.

━━━━ ᗢ her villain 'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite way you do. ━━━━ ᗢ greatest what if Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around. ━━━━ ᗢ professor maximoff Why is she just so oblivious? ━━━━ ᗢ heart I knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed. Should've known I'd be the first to leave think about the place where you first met me.

━━━━ ᗢ you're losing me How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? And you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. ━━━━ ᗢ after the fight | pt. 2 Echoes of your name inside my mind, hiding my obsession. I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy. ━━━━ ᗢ last memory If I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were still around. What died didn't stay dead, you're alive, so alive, in my head. ━━━━ ᗢ shadows of the night Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill. Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city pierced through the heart, but never killed. I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror, it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. ━━━━ ᗢ love A string that pulled me, out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar. Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire, chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you. And isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? ━━━━ ᗢ birthday Your wish is my command. ━━━━ ᗢ wedding Sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes walking out is the one thing, that will find you the right thing. The snaps from the same little breaks in your soul, you know when it's time to go. ━━━━ ᗢ champagne problems I never was ready, so I watch you go. But you'll find the real thing instead, she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. You won't remember all my champagne problems. ━━━━ ᗢ compliments she deserves it all.

N. ROMANOFF | S. JOHANSSON

request closed! ━━━━ ⧗ pick up lines And that's how it works, that's how you got the girl.

━━━━ ⧗ high school sweetheart You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace and you're the hero flying around, saving face. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? ━━━━ ⧗ coffee I've been spending the last eight months, thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end. But on a wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it begin again. ━━━━ ⧗ cold hearted You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face, 'cause look at your face. And I'm so furious at you for making me feel this way. ━━━━ ⧗ it was you' Something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted. Can't turn back now, I'm haunted. ━━━━ ⧗ the photographer and actress Big reputation, you and me, we'd be a big conversation. It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold. You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks, so here's the truth from my red lips. ━━━━ ⧗ thank you Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife? Walk away and leave me bleedin'. ━━━━ ⧗ the knight All I know is you held the door, you'll be mine and I'll be yours. All I know since yesterday is everything has changed. ━━━━ ⧗ my atlantis To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. You drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleedin'. I knew you tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy. ━━━━ ⧗ ex I used to say never say never, but we are never getting back together, like ever. ━━━━ ⧗ in the next lifetime But in those photos, I saw us instead and, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other in another life. You still would've turned my head even if we'd met. You're always gonna be mine, we're gonna be timeless. ━━━━ ⧗ you have flour When you think of all the late nights, lame fights over the phone. Your past and mine are parallel lines, stars all aligned and they intertwined. ━━━━ ⧗ we both had our chance I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ━━━━ ⧗ i miss you Now, I fear I have fallen from grace and I feel like my castle's crumbling down. ━━━━ ⧗ what's the answer? Spending the next few years of my life looking for answers from her. ━━━━ ⧗ short You think she's just being dramatic about it. ━━━━ ⧗ she doesn't love me anymore What the fuck? ━━━━ ⧗ this is your fault Kiss me, try to fix it, could you just try to listen? Hang up, give up, and for the life of us, we can't get back. ━━━━ ⧗ bad temper | pt. 2 | pt. 3 My words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regret about that. ━━━━ ⧗ teddy bear Seems like she don't hate Mr. cuddle that much. ━━━━ ⧗ you forgot your clothes I'm so chill, but you make me jealous, but I got your heart skippin'. You know I'm not a bad girl but I do bad things with you. ━━━━ ⧗ i'm falling again Oh oh, I'm falling inlove again. ━━━━ ⧗ gorgeous specimen I was enchanted to meet you. ━━━━ ⧗ too late words— how little they mean when you're a little too late. ━━━━ ⧗ how to seduce your wife | pt. 2 I would stay forever if you say, don't go. ━━━━ ⧗ threesome' All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, 'cause I don't want you like a best friend. ━━━━ ⧗ i hate you Remembering her comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it's time now gotta let go. But moving on from her is impossible, when I still see it all in my head, in burning red. ━━━━ ⧗ streamer' Don't worry, you're safe, the stream's off. ━━━━ ⧗ recreating memories I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I once believed love would be black and white but it's golden, like daylight. ━━━━ ⧗ ribbon Found my way back to her. ━━━━ ⧗ you went home early I know that I'm a handful, baby. But one of these things is not like the others, baby doll, when it comes to a lover I promise that you'll never find another like me. ━━━━ ⧗ eight years This is the last time I'm asking you why, you break my heart in the blink of an eye.

If you have any suggestions or recommendations for additions to this masterlist, don't hesitate to reach out and let me know! divider made by @cafekitsune

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dbnightingale24 · 3 months

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You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that.

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you.

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,” she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men.

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband.

Great.

Read the rest of the story here

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #Pete Brenner #pete brenner x reader #pete brenner x you #pete brenner x y/n #pete brenner x female reader #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans characters #Pain Hustlers #Pain Hustlers fanfic #Smut #Angst #Angst and fuff #pete brenner smut

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smoooothoperator · 1 year

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What A Shame

03: Don't Blame Me

Driver! Charles Leclerc x Singer! OC (Juliette Morelli)

Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Childhood Sweathearts

Summary: feelings and thoughts started to boil, spilling out of the cup

Words: 2.4k

warnings: Juliette being wild and angry, drunken Charles, flashbacks are on italics

Official Playlist

Masterlist

previous part l next part

a/n: hello loves!!!! Today is not race day BUT chapter day!!

🏎️

It was a torture.

Everytime it was the same. Everytime I fell and I tried to get up it was as if the walls of the bottomless pit were higher and higher.

All the dreams were of her. All the memories were of her. All the thoughts were her.

She made me crazy, hearing her all the time. During the dinner, even if everyone in the room was talking, the only voice I could hear was hers and it drove me insane.

And right now, on that bench under the fairy lights, the only thing I could hear instead of the crickets, were her moans. It was like if she did it on purpose, leaving the window open knowing that I was outside and I could hear her.

"Fucking hell" I groan getting up if the bench and walking inside the building, going straight to the bar and ordering the strongest alcohol they had.

I read things about her. I did, because I missed her. Sometimes when I was on my own, alone and on my lower, I searched her name on the internet just to know how she was doing, how her career was developing.

But then I saw everything:

Is the new Italian musical star dating Shawn Mendes?

Juliette Morelli, the new heartbreaker around Hollywood.

Sebastian Stan and Juliette Morelli, the newest hot couple?

Meet Juliette, newest movie star of the UCM and love interest of the Winter Soldier.

Exclusive: Juliette Morelli walking out of Harry Styles' hotel after the Grammys

It hurts. Reading all those articles about her, it was as if I was reading something about someone I never met.

Juliette could never do that. Not my Juliette. She was sweet, loyal and the last caring person I ever met. But... Right, she's no longer mine.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" Carlos frowned when he saw me on the bar, swallowing the whiskey quickly. "Charles! God!"

"I created a monster" I mumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. "I barely recognize her..."

"What?" he frowned. "Juliette?"

I smiled weakly, moving the glass and watching how the ice cubes moved in circles. Carlos knew about Juliette, after all, my last year with her was his first year with me as teammates.

"What are you talking about?" he sighed, taking the glass out of my hand.

"Right now she's fucking with Lando" I scoffed. "And I bet she fucked all her coworkers"

"Mate you are drunk, you shouldn't say those things, you'll regret it" he frowned, looking at me disappointed.

How ironic, that's the same look my mother gave me when I told her that Juliette and I were no longer together.

"You what?" she gasped, standing next to the simulator while I worked on it.

"I won't repeat it" I said, not taking my eyes away from the screen.

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc!" she screamed, the way she said all my name's made my ears ring as a warning.

"What, mother?!" I said furious, stopping the simulator and looking at her. "Yes, I broke up with her"

"Why? What happened?! Yesterday you two were perfectly fine!" she asked me furiously, searching for answers. "What changed!"

"What changed? I realized that I don't love her anymore, mother" lies. Everything is a lie. "That's what changed"

"I can't believe you" she said, looking at me with cold eyes, her voice sounding deeper and her eyebrows frowned. "You father would be so disappointed, just like me and your siblings. I can't believe you left a woman for the first seat of the team. I thought I taught you better than that"

"I regret so many things, Carlos" I scoffed. "One of them is accepting the first seat that season with them"

"Charles..." he sighed and I just moved my hand to the bartender asking for another round.

"I regret lying to my father and telling him that I got the seat while he was dying" I said, taking a long sip of the alcohol, feeling how it burned my throat. "I regret all the bad decisions I made while racing, as well as accepting that Ferrari could change and not listening to people and their warnings"

I looked at the liquid, I'm sure it's whiskey. I'm not a big fan of alcohol, of drinking to forget. But right now, this is the only solution I see to forget her, to forget what I heard.

"But, Carlos" I said looking up at him, my red eyes somehow made his gaze get softer. "The thing I regret the most was leaving her, because without her I'm only a body without a soul, without a heart"

🎤

The bedroom was a mess with clothes on the floor. The bed felt heavy on the side next to me, just like the arm wrapping my waist. I followed it with my eyes, turning my head and finding that curly haired man still sleeping.

I sighed, squirming and getting out of bed without waking him up. I recollected all his clothes and folded them on the chair next to him while I searched for clean clothes so I could go downstairs to have breakfast.

This doesn't feel stranger anymore. I got used to this, leaving without making a single noise, going from bed to bed just searching for a way of getting him out of my mind.

After getting ready without making a noise I walked out of the room with my phone in my hand, going downstairs towards the restaurant and serving myself a coffee with some french pastries.

"I remember that you hated coffee" I heard someone say behind me, making me smile after I recognized the voice.

"Isa" I sighed watching her sitting next to me. "Hey"

"It's been a long time, hm?" she smiled looking at me.

I nodded and smiled weakly. I looked at her. She looks older, of course. The golden band on her ring finger shines with the light of the sun, making my eyes go down to it. Then I noticed her belly.

"Oh, you are pregnant" I smiled surprised, happy for her. "Congratulations"

"Is the second one" she smiled rubbing her belly. "Vera is with Carlos, she's the flower girl"

"Ah... I see" I nodded looking down at the coffee cup. "I guess that I got addicted to it in the US... With a Starbucks on every corner is impossible to not drink and get used to it"

"How are things going, hm?" she smiled at me , her voice sounding like the high of a mother.

"Fine, yeah" I nodded. "Writing songs, producing them... Now I'm an actress too"

"Yeah, I saw" she nodded. "A Marvel star, yeah"

I nodded and took a deep breath. This feels awkward. Isa and I used to be great friends, but it only lasted a year.

"He's not the same, you know?" she sighed, making me look at her frowning.

"I don't want to talk about him" I frowned. "Please"

"Okay" she sighed, rubbing her belly. "I get it, he was the one that cut strings"

"Exactly" I nod, but I just did it to convince myself.

"But answer me something" she sighed looking at me, making my heart go faster. "You still write songs about him, don't you?"

"Of course not" I frowned, lying.

Of course I do. He has always been my musa, the reason why I wrote songs. Even after he broke up with me, he was always in my mind making me write songs about how I felt without him or how much I missed him, or how much pain he gave me.

"Mhm" she nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "Well, I have to say that Vera loves your songs"

"That's... Cute" I smile softly.

It was awkward all the time. It was lime if we never met before, like if we were trying to start a conversation to get to know each other, forgetting how much fun we used to have together, cheering for our respective boyfriends in the garage.

"He won two titles" she said, taking me out of my mind, making me frown.

"I told you that I didn't want to talk about him..." I sighed.

"He left Ferrari, won the titles with Mercedes" she smiled. "Black looks good on him, by the way"

I looked at her frowning. He left Ferrari? But that team was his dream, he wanted to win titles with them like Michael Schumacher did.

"No fucking way!" I heard him gasp, making me get up from the couch and ran to the simulator.

"What? What happened?" I asked worried, nervous. "Charles!"

"I have the seat" he said smiling, tears forming in his eyes. "I have the seat, Juls!"

"Ehm... What?" I frown. "I mean, yeah? You are in Sauber"

"No, Juls" he smiled, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Ferrari. They called me, like, now. I have a seat for the next season"

"Oh my God" I gasped while hugging him. "Oh God, Charles!"

"I know!" he giggled, cupping my cheeks and pressing his lips on mine. "I can't believe it... My dream! Is my dream!"

"He got tired of them, of all the things they promised to him" he sighed. "He did exactly what Schumacher did. Retired a year and came back stronger to Mercedes"

"He retired?" I frown, surprised.

"Yeah, on 2027" she nodded.

I frown and look at her. I missed so many things, but he's not my business anymore.

"Good for him" I nodded, indifferent, wanting to end the conversation about him. "Well, I have to go. I need to make sure the speakers and instruments are fine"

With that I got up from the table and walked out of the room, finding Lando on my way. He just smiled at me and I looked the other way. That's how I work. One night stand is a one night stand, nothing more.

🏎️

My head was exploding. I don't even know how I came to the room and how I got to bed. But I answered myself when I found a glass of water with a headache pill and a piece of paper next to it.

'You should man up for once and stop hiding. Everyone knows you are not the same without her and we're tired of watching you suffer in silence. You better talk to her before we go back to race.

-Carlos'

"Great" I groaned, drinking the glass of water and swallowing the pill. "Fucking great"

I sit on the bed and look at the wall in front of me. I can't remember much of what I did last night, God knows how much alcohol I drank to be like this.

I have to get ready, the last things for tonight's wedding are this morning, one of them is adjusting everything for Juliette.

"Shit" I groan, messing my hair with my hands.

I got out of the bed and got dressed, trying to put on the best face I had to hide my headache and how much I wanted to leave this place. Walking through the corridors towards the restaurant I saw Lado walking out of a room that wasn't his with the same clothes he had yesterday.

"Charles! H-hey!" he exclaimed with a smile. "You'll never believe what happened"

I look at him taking a deep breath. Right now the way he talks is too much for my headache.

"I slept with Juliette!" he said happily, making me look at him with a poker face. "Come on dude, be happy. Is the first time I get laid in a long time with all this championship going on. And damn, she was fucking amazing"

"I know" I frowned, groaning and really hating the fact that he told me he slept with her. "I practically was the one that taught her all those things"

"What?" He frowned, but I already walked away, mad.

She did the thing I asked her to not do. And that's what made me angrier, because I knew she's not mine and the one to blame here it's only me.

"What the fuck, Juliette!" I exclaimed when I walked out of the building and went towards the ceremony room. She was making sure everything was ready for tonight.

"Good morning to you too, Leclerc" she said through the microphone.

"You really fucked him" I said mad, walking towards her and standing in front of her, clenching my jaw. "Just after I told you to not to"

She looked at me and I saw the smirk showing on her lips slowly. I saw how she crossed her arms in front of her chest and put all her weight on a leg.

"Are you jealous, Leclerc?" she scoffed, taking her hair out of her shoulder. "Well, too bad you let me go, hm? Too bad I'm not yours anymore"

Right. She's not mine.

"You know, Charles?" she said, making me clench my jaw tighter. "The first year after you broke my heart was hard as fuck. I blamed myself, I thought it was my fault. And you know what? The only one here that has to be blamed is you, because instead of having a family with me, you decided to stay on a stupid team that made you believe you were part of them and that made your life a living hell"

I swallowed thickly and looked at her. She knew Ferrari was my dream.

"Tell me something, yeah?" she frowned looking at me. "Did they give you what they promised you? They gave you the first seat? Or they said that Ferrari didn't have a first driver?"

How does she know? Why does she know this?

"You believed all the lies Mattia told you, you followed him like a fucking lost puppy and it was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen" she scoffed, making my heart break with her words. "Thank you, by the way. For breaking up with me, because thanks to that I didn't saw how ridiculous you were all those seasons with them even if they were like a cancer in your life and career"

"Juliette..." I mumble, feeling my heart breaking.

"Actually... No. I'm not thanking you for breaking my heart" she said, and then I saw her eyes getting wet "Because you made me break the heart of a man that was way better than you. A man that was what you will never be, but instead of that I kept telling myself that I couldn't love him because I loved someone else! Someone that doesn't deserve my love anymore"

"What? What does it mean?"

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster @kakorrhaphiphobia

#f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 serie #formula 1 fic #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 4 months

Text

Sometime Dreamers (crossover fic)

Summary: Doctor Who/Sandman crossover, 2nd person femme/female reader (though it's very vague through most of the story)

A/N: Launching this monstrosity as part of the Winter Solstice Writing Event even though I spent the morning puking and wrestling with a piece of toast. The Sandman elements will integrate in upcoming installments, I swear. *Eyebrow waggles* Interactions help me shout down my depression and get bits out faster! Love you all, and thank you for your support!

The extraordinary finds you on an ordinary walk.

The sky’s all grey clouds and rainy breezes, even when the forecasters insist it’s blue. Half of the year’s leaves crunch underfoot. Half still give you a reason to look up and marvel.

Really, everything’s fine, even if you’re tired, too tired, worryingly tired, and you’re too wrapped up with thoughts of the House to pay attention to your feet, and you should get back to your latest assignment, or maybe –

“Ooof.”

Brown fabric in your face, your sneakers tangling with his – a full-on collision in front of god and everyone. The man’s so skinny you could’ve dodged fifty ways around him. Instead, you’re wrapped around each other in a bid against gravity.

You look up into brown eyes full of questions. Pretty. And sad. And distracting. You’re still touching, and it’s time you did something about that.

“I am so sorry.” You sort out your feet first, reclaiming your balance before abashedly releasing the fistful of trench coat you’d snared. Then you catch yourself trying to smooth away the wrinkles. Shit. Well. Too late to keep your hands to yourself, but you fold them behind your back anyway, smiling to convince the stranger you’re entirely harmless and definitely weren’t coming on to him, and damn you’re spiraling again. Time for more caffeine. Past time. The walk’s left you tired. You’d hoped it would finally energize you past the malaise hanging over the House. No such luck.

“Oh, no. My fault entirely.” He smiles with his teeth, and it’s definitely a lie, but at least he’s being nice about it. “I never watch where I’m going. But if you wouldn’t happen to – Are you feeling alright?” His whole face wrinkles around the thought, sharpening to pierce your thoughts. He looks in one of your eyes, then swings to the next, mumbling as he reaches in his coat.

“I’m fine. No harm done. You?”

He pulls out a whining device and shines its blue light in your face. “No, that’s not what I mean at all. You look awful.”

After months of obsessive dreams and a lethargy you can’t shake, yeah, of course you look awful. You have a mirror. You had a first-row seat to watch the shadows grow under your eyes. It isn’t even something your roommates dare bring up, because they have their own bruises and drooping smiles. Trust the pretty stranger to be an asshole, though.

Using the side of your hand to guide the buzzing light away, you clear your throat and ask, “I wouldn’t happen to what?”

“What?” He returns the light to his pocket, fishes out a pair of glasses, and squints at you again.

“You were going to ask me something.”

“Oh, right. Yes. Well. I guess you would happen to. You sort of already have, or do, not sure yet. Nice to meet you, by the way.” He thrusts out his hand and grins again, trying to wipe the slate clean and yank the wool over your eyes, like this was a perfectly normal introduction. “I’m the Doctor.”

You accept the handshake but only offer your first name. He repeats it, beaming and glancing around like your name might appear in print on the side of a building.

“Live around here, then?”

Ah, nah. Too far, too fast. He’s not pretty enough to die for. Even though you don’t live alone, common sense screams against telling a strange man where you live.

“I’m just out for a walk.”

Nodding, slipping his hands into his pockets, he accepts the refusal. “Nice place for a walk.”

Thank all fuck. He has tact if not manners. “Very. And it was nice bumping into you, but I’d better continue on mine.” You pass, spin on our heel, and take a few steps backwards. Maybe he was going to ask you for directions, and you don’t want to leave on a sour note, because the poor man might just be awkward. “There’s a lake if you keep going that way. And if you cut through the empty lot there’s a little woods. Or just follow the road and you’ll find some pubs and shops and things. If you’re lost or thirsty, I mean.”

“Oh,” he smiles, “I love a little woods.”

Strange, definitely strange, but fun. So long as he doesn’t follow you home and murder your in your sleep, you’ll work a story around those deep, sad eyes. You’ll dream up fabulous, new worlds for those well-worn Converse to wander. “Good to meet you. Sorry I was a bit of a road hazard.”

“Mutual. The hazard was mutual. Enjoy your walk.”

You face away and continue in the opposite direction. When you reach a good corner you peek over your shoulder, but he’s gone. It’s a relief, if a little sad. The end of an odd little tale, and the end of the story is always the worst part, even when it’s happy.

It’s another two miles back to the House. Your feet carried you far away, but your mind is still in your room, turning over fragments of inescapable scenes.

Mind and body meet on the doorstep. You come back to yourself, vaguely aware of how shaky your legs feel as you put your key in the lock and push through into the entry way.

Art crawls over the walls, growing across the ceiling. Decades of creatives moving through have left their mark in every imaginable way, and the lot you live with are busy adding their own. Jeremy’s painted a starling over the hallway mirror, and Blithe Sharpied her band’s logo at the foot of the stairs months ago.

Despite the chaos of the House’s interior design, it’s dead quiet. Where is everyone? In bed, probably. Asleep or wishing they were. They’re all under the weather, too, and if they have the energy to get up and be productive, they can only work quietly.

Blithe’s guitar hasn’t serenaded anyone in the wee hours of the morning for weeks, and you’re sure she’s missing rehearsals. Trevor hasn’t been to an audition in just as long. And Jeremy, well, he was always a bit quiet. He liked to keep his headphones on while he painted, and the biggest racket he ever made was when he knocked over the tray with his palette and brushes.

But none of them had ever been so lifeless. Jeremy made the old house’s creaking boards sing in the odd hours as he went from the attic to the kitchen for tea or biscuits. Trevor should be laughing on the phone with someone. Blithe should be composing new music to transcribe on the walls. No one seems like themselves, and all the doctors could do was mumble about stress and lifestyle choices.

But at least you’re home.

You’re tired.

You’ll just have a little nap before you put the coffee on.

You make it as far as the couch.

Then the fatigue swallows you, and thought unstitches from reality as you fall into the ratty floral print. Loose threads of memory follow you down, the rhythm of your walk echoing in your feet, and you find green grass sprouting from your imagination. The dream smells like summer, and droning rattles in your ears.

It’s another story. The same one you keep slipping into when you sleep. Growth, and death, and the thing that sits between lurking underground.

A hill.

A door where there is no door.

Old magic pulling bits of you inside, tattering the edges of your fingers as they steady you against an oak. Skin, fingernails, and tendon shred away like burnt paper, pulled towards the point of entry that doesn’t exist.

Under your palm, the wood groans and flexes, breathing, or pulsing, alive in ways you’ve always suspected trees are but can’t articulate. It’s all impressions here, and it’s pulling you in. The tree has more life than you do. You’re feeding the green, green grass and the hill beneath without growing into it, and that must mean you’re –

Awake.

Consciousness physically jerks you out of the dream, and a muscle seizes in your neck.

“Fuck.”

What’s happening? Did you jump scare yourself? As you try to rub the angry spot over your shoulder, the sound that roused you comes again.

A knock at the door.

Rolling your head to pop the bastard muscle back into compliance, you get your feet on the floor.

But the dream. You need to write it all down.

There must be a scrap of paper around here somewhere. A stubby pencil on the end table and an out-of-date band flyer come to hand. They’ll do. But as you scratch down words to shape the sensory madness of your wandering dream, the knock comes again, and you swear, stumbling to your feet.

“Damn it.”

You abandon your work and make your way to the door, pulling it open without checking who’s waiting on the other side. It creaks open as you glance down to make sure your feet are clear, and you look up to find the storied brown eyes from your walk.

“Hello again!”

He shoots the same, big grin, like this is not at all strange and really you should all remain calm while he stops in for a cup of tea.

#winter solstice writing event #sandman x reader #crossover #fanfiction #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor / reader #morpheus x reader #fic: sometime dreamers

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bradtomlovesya · 1 year

Text

Goodbye

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You only have a couple minutes left and you still have to say goodbye.

Warnings: ANGST! (in capital letters). Mentions of death, mentions of blood, injuries.

w/c: 2.1k +

A/N: This is the most harmful shit I have ever written so read under your own risk. I went to sleep at 3 am for this. I was literally sobbing. I hope you like it and likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciate it. Love ya.

Support and author by sharing their work. (Gif not mine)

You should have listened to Peter when he told you not to go on that road trip alone. You didn't want to put it off. A member of your family was going through a difficult situation and you had to be there for support. Your home was 3 states away from where you lived with Peter so it would be a long road trip, you hated planes so you went by car.

It's too late now to regret it.

"I don't like the idea of you going alone. Let me come with you." Begs your boyfriend as you pack your suitcase in the car.

"You know you can't, you have a thesis to present and I can't keep putting it off. My family needs me, Peter."

"I know they need you. I'm not telling you not to go but please take me with you." He takes your hand.

"I'll be fine." You kiss his lips and get into the car.

The smell of blood now flooded your nostrils and your ears endured a ringing that seemed to have no end.

Breathing burned. Your lungs begged for oxygen but it felt like a burn every time you gave it to them.

You had no reason for time or space. You had no idea why everything looked so blurry. Maybe it's a dream, one of those many bad dreams you've had.

There is a face in front of you. A young man with a bloody forehead and nose. You want to ask him if he's okay but you're too stunned to utter a word.

You know he's saying something by the way his lips are moving but you can't hear it, yet.

Your brow is furrowed. You try to bring yourself back to the here and now. ~Concentrate, y/n.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm really sorry." You manage to finally hear what the young man says and pick up his phone to call an ambulance. You don't look at all well. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?" He tries to get your attention.

"I can't move," you mumble. The more you regain consciousness, the more you notice the terrible pain in your head and in your stomach. Right in your right side.

"Yes, yes she's conscious but she's on the tarmac. It's very dark, I can't see anything." The stranger sobs next to you. "You have to come now, please." He mumbles an address you can't make out and focuses his gaze on you. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He moves his free hand towards you but regrets it just before he touches you.

"Hey, take it easy." You try to stay calm for both of us. "What's your name?"

"Tyler" he replies wiping his nose and puts the phone aside as soon as the call cuts off.

"Tyler, it's y/n." You make a great effort to speak. Only one of you can move and that's not you so you do your best to calm him down.

"Are the paramedics coming?" You look him in the eye and feel your side twinge.

"The call went dead." He explains. "The girl on the phone said to stay calm."

"Did you give them our location?" you ask hopefully.

"Yes, I did. They said they would send someone as soon as possible but the call was cut off."

You close your eyes for a moment trying to let the pain subside but it only gets worse. "Try calling them again and stay with whoever answers the phone while they arrive."

Tyler nods and after a few tries manages to connect the call. The girl behind the phone asks him to describe what he sees and that's when you get an idea of how bad it is.

The front window of your car is broken. You were thrown out because of a seatbelt failure. Your leg looks broken, according to Tyler, and worst of all, there's a pool of blood coming out of your right side. That explains the stinging you feel.

"That's not good, is it?" You ask trying to hope. The paramedics will arrive and everything will be fine.

"The girl says to put my hands on your wound and keep them there until the paramedics arrive." Tyler moves his hands and asks permission before placing them on your wound making you cry out in pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats over and over.

"It's okay," you try to control your breathing and feel your eyes roll back in your head.

The girl on the other end of the phone, now in a loud voice, asks Tyler not to stop talking to you and he does. You must stay conscious.

You respond a few times to his nervous attempt at conversation, tell him about your life and try to focus on something beyond the pain.

Minutes pass. Many minutes. Forty minutes, to be exact, and still no sign of help.

Your body feels weak and keeping your eyes open becomes increasingly difficult. That's when you remember how far you were from the nearest town or city when you had the accident and reality hits you in the face.

"Tyler?" You put your hands on top of his looking for some warmth. You're cold. it's cold.

"Yes?" he replies almost immediately.

"What does the ambulance girl say?" You ask.

"That we should wait a little longer. Help is on its way," he says with feigned assurance. He tries to convince himself that the paramedics will arrive on time.

"I need your help with something." Tyler nods for you to continue. "Please look for my phone in my car and call Peter. He's my boyfriend." You ask. Now you understand you're on borrowed time.

"No, the girl said my hands are the only thing that stops the bleeding long enough for help to arrive. I'm not moving." He denies.

"Please." You beg, feeling an immense urge to cry but you're too weak to do so. "We're in the middle of nowhere and, look at me, I don't have much time left."

"No, please. They're going to come and you're going to be fine." he cries again inconsolably. He knows you're right.

"Tyler, please," you plead with every ounce of strength you have left. "I don't want to leave without saying goodbye."

The young man hesitates, not wanting to take his hands away and then regret it. But he feels so guilty about the accident that he agrees and reaches for your phone.

One ring, two rings, on the third ring, Peter answers the call. Tyler puts the speakerphone on and puts his hands back on your side.

"Love, are you coming back? Did you stop for lunch?" Peter asks through the speaker.

"Peter..." you smile sadly at the sound of his voice and feel tears well up in your eyes.

"Is everything alright? You don't sound so good." The concern in his voice is noticeable.

"Peter, I had an accident on the way home. You get straight to the point, you have no time to waste. "It doesn't look very-" you cut off your coughing breath and the metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. "It doesn't look good for me."

"Wh-what?" you hear her breathing hitch. "Where are you? I'll come right away. Tell me where you are," he asks.

"I'm far away, Pete," you murmur and close your eyes to rest for a moment, just a moment. "I don't have much time left."

"What about the paramedics? Are you alone? I'll call 911," you hear the keys on the phone in your shared flat click and you open your eyes again.

"I'm with Tyler, he was in the accident with me and he's looking after me" you smile weakly at him. "But we're so far away from everything, love. I don't want to waste my last minutes talking about how far away the paramedics are." You plead.

"Don't say that, please. You're going to be fine" He reasons as fast as he can. He's still processing the information.

"I love you, Peter Parker. I love you with every fiber in my body." You struggle to hold on a little longer. Just a few more minutes, please.

Peter walks out into the street and gets into a taxi.

"I'll track your phone. I'm going to find you. You're not going to die, okay?" You hear his voice crack.

"Remember that summer at the beach when we saw that family playing ball?" You change the subject.

"Y/n..." tries to stop you from speaking but you continue.

"You said you wanted a family as happy as that." You smile at the memory. "A wedding, two or three kids, a little house in the suburbs, a job from home so you could spend time with the kids, and a Golden Retriever for a pet." You feel tears running down your cheeks. "I would have loved to have been able to give you all that, it was my dream too."

"We will. We will, just-" he takes a big breath of air so you he doesn't collapse in the taxi. "Hang in there."

Peter would have preferred to swing but there are no buildings outside the city and he would have had to hang up the call. He wasn't going to hang it up for the world.

"I'm sorry I argued with you about that new TV. I love our movie Fridays." You admit. "It wasn't an unnecessary expense."

"I know. I bought it for you," he sobs. This can't be the end.

"Little May and little Ben would have loved movie Fridays too. Especially since their dad would have made the richest and weirdest popcorn combinations." You laugh before coughing again and spitting up blood.

"May and Ben are the best names" he laughs sadly. "Y/n please, I can't lose you too. You're all I have left" you hear him crying on the other end of the phone. It's clear he's not trying to control himself anymore.

"I'll love you even when I'm gone" you whisper and leave your eyes closed for a longer period of time.

"Please open your eyes, y/n" Tyler moves your face with one of his hands and you open your eyes again.

"Listen to him, don't close your eyes," your boyfriend denies into the phone. He has never felt so helpless in his entire life.

"I'm tired" you fix your blurred gaze on the phone lying on the tarmac next to you.

"You can't leave, not like this" he wipes away his tears and tries to control his breathing but it's unavoidable. "I have to marry you..." he pleads.

"If you want me to marry you you have to ask me first" you joke.

"Will you marry me?" Peter asks between sobs as he thinks about the box with a ring hidden in his old Spiderman uniforms. He was going to ask you very soon, he didn't expect it to be like this.

"Yes and a thousand times yes," you smile with your eyes closed but open them again to look at Tyler. "Did you hear that, Tyler? I'm getting married." You say with as much excitement as you can muster. "You're invited to the wedding." You mumble closing your eyes again.

They stay open too little time, they're too heavy.

"You can take the ring out of your uniform box now," you mutter lower and lower.

"Did you know that?" your boyfriend asks in surprise.

"I know all about it, my super hero" your breathing slows down.

Peter looks at his phone. There are miles between you. He won't make it in time.

"No, you're the super hero. It's always been you," he presses the phone to his ear. "I love you, Y/n y/l/n."

"I love you too, Peter," you murmur almost inaudibly. "Can I ask you something?" You use the last of your strength to speak a little louder.

"Whatever" Parker nods quickly.

"Promise me that you won't stop looking for love and that you'll try to be happy even if it's not with me." You say earnestly.

"I can't do-" you stop him before he says anything else.

"Promise me, Peter. Please promise me. I have to hear you say it."

Peter swallows hard. He doesn't want to do anything you just said. How could he be happy without you? But nevertheless, he responds.

"I promise," he says before bursting into tears again.

This can't be goodbye.

You're exhausted, you don't think you can keep your eyes open for much longer. A few seconds pass and all you hear is Peter's sobs on the other end of the line.

"Y/n?" he asks but you don't answer. You vaguely hear him but the voice is getting further and further away. "No no no no, y/n answer. Please" exclaims your boyfriend. "Don't go" he clenches the phone tightly in his hand.

Endless memories flash through your mind. You are glad that they are happy for the most part.

Is this what it feels like to die? At least you were able to say Goodbye.

|°|°|°|°|°|

Peter Parker Tags:

@raajali3 @fangirling-galore @powerpuffluuvv @itszulli @hallecarey1 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kaitieskidmore1 @lnmp89 @pure-a-tea @vixparker @army24--7 @spiderydreams00 @my-name-duh @nani-2305 @mochimm @ietss @prancerrparkerr @Lynnzilla3000 @hpsgirlrw @Lynnzilla3000 @hollandweather

Let me know if you want to be added/removed.

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hummusxx · 10 months

Text

Yes sir +18 Pt 3 of Gorgeous (previous part) (next part)

Summary: When trying on clothes with Jude, tension is bound to happen.

Warnings: Jealousy, smut with plot (sorry). f receiving, d in v, unprotected s$x (wrap your willy and protect the city), Angry Jude. mirror s$x.

Hummus' corner This is so late I'm so sorry!!! This is my first time writing actual descripted smut like this so please be kind. Love y’all l

(Jude's Pov)

She's the most beautiful girl in the world. Watching her rummage through the racks on racks of clothes in the dressing room is oddly satisfying.

As she walks over to the mirror and looks at the clothes she has pulled out, all i can think about is how good she would look again-

"Jude?"

I snap out of my trance and look at her.

" You seemed lost" she stares at me concerningly. " Are u alright?"

"Yeah- I'm fine" I say rubbing my hands on the jeans I'm wearing.

"Well if you're so alright can u help me." she says while looking at me through the reflection of the mirror.

"Sure, what is it" I stand up and make my way towards her. When she sees me coming, she turns around.

This is my chance. I lean in just a bit but as i do this she says- "I need you to go pick out some jewelry that will match a black and white blazer dress with ruffles.

"oh um okay i can do that" I say awkwardly and scratch my neck.

"great-well um chop chop" she says jokingly as i turn around and leave the dressing room.

'fuck'

(Y/n's Pov)

What the actual fuck was that

Was he trying to kiss me… and why do I feel so hot all the sudden.

As i stare at myself wondering if what just happened was dreaming a male associate comes in

"Miss. Y/L, I couldn't help but notice that u seem at bit lost. Is there anything that we can do for you?" he says while interring the dressing room and placing more champagne in my already empty glass and picking up the empty plate

The sliders are long gone from Jude and I eating them. Well, mostly Jude.

"No. I am alright-' I try to figure out his name.

"James, ma'am"

"James, thank you but I am alright just got caught in my own thoughts." I look back at the blazer i am holding and bring it up to my body once again.

"If you and your partner need anything please let us know"

"Oh, he's not my-"

"Y/n i got you stuff. Can i come in?" I hear Jude say behind the curtain of the gigantic dressing room.

"Yes come in." I responded while turning from the mirror and walking towards Jude.

"i got u- who's this?" Jude asks while abruptly stopping what he was going to say before

"Hello I'm James. I am an associate here at cha-"

"Yeah, i don't care." Jude says while looking annoyed at James who is just only trying to help

"Jude!" i sneer at him

"What he just comes in your dressing room without asking if you're decent or not. What a geezer" his brummie accent coming out more now that he's mad

"I can leav-"

"Please" He turns to look from me at James who looks petrified.

James leaves the room petrified. I don't blame him. Jude looks like a lion ready to pounce.

"Jud-"

"No Y/n. He could have been a creep wanting to see what's mine."

Wait. What's his?

"I'm not yours" I look at Jude confused. What does he mean by this. He starts to walk closer to me. The jewelry i asked him to get is long forgotten and placed neatly on the coffee table.

He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me look at myself in the mirror. He takes the blazer out of my hand and throughs it acros the room.

"Jude that is expensive you can't just-" He starts to attack my neck with kisses and bites.

"Jude" i breath out a moan. "I've been waiting to do this ever since i saw you yesterday" he says in between kisses on my neck. I lean my head on his neck as i watch him venture down my stomach.

He turns me around so we can lock lips. I through my hands over his neck, Deeping the kiss. It feels like forever before we brake for air. We both are breathing heavily.

He starts to peel off his shirt while looking at me with hunger. he pulls me to the couch facing the mirror and lays me on it.

He climbs on top of me, and we connect our lips again.

"Off" he says motioning for my pants. I lift my hips and he help me take off my pants. I am left in purple laced panties and a blouse.

He rips my shirt without warning. Now leaving me in my laced black bralette.

"Jude!" I yell at him. "What? We are in a store i can buy you another one" he chuckles and starts to admire my body. Rubbing his hands all over my breasts and mid-section.

"You are so fucking pretty-may i" he motions to take of my panties. I nod in a response. "No baby- I need an answer."

"Yes"

"Yes what"

"Yes sir"

He takes off my panties and runs his fingers on my clit. I instantly moan. "You're already so wet for me" he smirks as he sees the mess, I've made of myself. He bends down to go in-between my legs-his eyes never leaving mine.

He sucks on the inside of my thighs. Just this makes me want to cum. He starts to make his way to my cunt. He licks a long stripe and that almost send me overboard.

At this point, I'm embarrassed but turned on. People can most definitely hear us from outside.

I'm a moaning mess while he continues to lick and suck on my clit "Jude-" I moan.

"I know baby, let it out for me" Jude says in between licks while going faster than he was before.

"JUDE!" i yell out as i reach my climax he keeps going to, i pull at his head until he finishes and gets up from his spot between my legs.

He roughly pulls me up off the couch, my legs wobbling from what just happened moments ago. He leads me to the mirror.

He puts me up against the mirror, my ass out, boobs pressed, and legs spread.

He roughly pulls of his pants and boxers.

"Are u-" "Yes" I respond already knowing what he was going to ask. I've had way too many scares to not be.

He grabs his dick and all i can do is open my mouth at how big it is. "You ready he" he says while lining his dick up to my hole. "yes "I breath out.

He pushes inside me, and I let out a big moan. He bottoms out and lets me get adjusted.

"You okay" he asks while kissing my next

"Yes-move please i need it" I say while wiggling my hips.

He grabs my hips with his hand and starts to thrust in and out of me. I moan as he does this, every time he picks up speed.

He is now going to fast i can't even speak. "You like that" he says while grabbing a fist full of my hair, forcing me to arch more

"Yes, oh god yes" I moan as he reaches places that no man as reached before.

"Good. this will teach you for letting that man in here." Jude says roughly has he continues to pound me so hard my ass turns red. He slaps my ass and I moan so loud the whole store can know what we are doing.

"Jude I'm cumming!" I'm a mess. My hair is all messy and my makeup smudge. "Hold it" he demands. I whine and he slaps my ass again and goes faster.

I whine and do as told, "I can't please" i whine some more, the pressure building in my stomach is becoming too much.

Jude grabs my neck a whisper in my ear "Cum baby". I cum so hard on his dick. He rides out my high before he reaches his climax. He releases inside me a stand there. We are pushed up against the mirror.

I take in my state. I have hickeys all along my neck, lipstick all around my mouth, mascara coming down my face. I look like a wreck.

Jude pulls out and sticks his finger in me. I jerk forward. "Can't let anything spill put baby" he says while looking at me through the mirror. I roll my eyes at him.

He moves over to where his boxers lay. Putting them on and then searching for my panties. He finds them and hand em' to me.

"Thanks" I say embarrassed. Everyone probably knows how much of a whore i am right now. Getting dicked down at channel headquarters.

Jude grabs my chin after I put on my panties. "Don't be embarrassed love. I've been wanting to do that ever since I've seen you." he says while rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

He pulls me in for a soft kiss. I kiss back. He helps me find my shirt and other clothes laying around.

"Well, that wasn't a productive try on" i say laughing while putting on my shoes. "What are you on about i would say that was pretty productive " he laughs and so do i.

"Do you want to grab dinner with me later." he says nervously as i look at him with wide eyes "I mean you do-"

I grab him and kiss him hard. "Of course. It's a date" I say and then while walk out of the dressing room to meet stares.

"Okay I'll text you" I hear Jude yell from the dressing room.

"Why is everyone staring" i say with a smirk. Rose laughs and looks at me. They all get back to what they were doing.

"Shall we" I say to Rose.

"We shall madam" she says while hooking her arm with mine.

"You need to tell me everything" Rose says as we make it to the car.

I just roll my eyes and look at the window, thinking about the date I have later.

Humussxx' Corner

THANK GOD I FINISHED THIS. this felt like it took me YEARS but at least i did it. Smut it actually so embarrassing to write but we live. Please don't be too hard on this. It's my first-time writing smut and i don't feel like going back and editing things. Okay BYEE

#jude bellingham #hummusxx' corner #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #football #real madrid #hey jude #jb5 #hala madrid #Paris #fast food #fashion

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ana-loss1234 · 4 months

Text

SLEEP - SPENCER REID X READER

Content: but of fluff, angst

Warning: mentions of beatings, nightmares

O/C name - Ayla

Imagine: having a nightmare

I sat at my desk, my own files solved and now I had a few other unneeded ones to complete placed in front of me to do

I yawned and took a sip of my hot chocolate, my go-to drink since I didn't like coffee, and besides, the two tablespoons of sugar in it just about gives me the energy I nee

"Hey, baby i'm turning in, you want a ride to yours? Or mine?" Spencers question got me thinking for a moment before I shook my head

"No, i just got to finish a bit more" I mumbled, keeping my eyes away from Spencer. For some reason whenever he looks at me he knows what i'm thinking

"Those files takes you minutes to do, and you're doing ones due for next month" he noted just glancing down at the papers for a split second

"I know I- I want to be on track"

"You're avoiding eye contact" he noted

"Which means you're either embarrased, you're not intrested and don't want to talk to me or you're lying" I quickly snapped my gaze up to Spencer who has a teasing smile on his face before he moved and leaned against my desk

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about If you want to continue your work, and you can tell me if you don't want to come back with me. And if you're lying then you can always talk to me" he smiled softly and I took his hand in my own before lacing our fingers together

"I'll get a cab home soon, thanks for the offer spencer" he nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of my head before he left, sending me one last smile before he turned the corner

—

The next week had been the same, going home later than anyone else, which was very unusual since it seemed Hotch never went home, and also being at the BAU earlier than anyone else

It was weird for me because it meant I was spending a lot less time with Spencer than usual because I didn't go over to his at night but we did see each other during the day which was a decent way of making up for that lost time

It was currently 11pm and my eyes were no longer willing to stay open

"Ayla" I furrowed my eyebrows not making any attempt to open my eyes

"Ayla, wake up" I finally did and looked to see the rest of the team looking at me

"Sorry" I mumbled wiping my tired eyes

"Don't be. You can turn in for the night, we got it covered here" Hotch noted but I shook my head drinking my hot chocolate

"I'm good" I missed the worried eyes going around the table for the hundreth time

Emily: "Ayla, you've been going home past 4am for weeks now, back at 7am"

"You can't be doing yourself favours with that sleep schedule" my eyes shot up to Derek before I shook my head

"Not 4am. And my sleep schedule is fine. Once this is done i'll-" I was cut off with a yawn

"I'll leave"

"Ayla, don't make me order you home. I might even put a 3 day pay suspension up if that will make you go home to sleep"

"Hotch, that's not nessasary"

"So give me some peace at mind, go home now, and I won't" I looked around the table at the faces of everyone telling me to go before I sighed and picked up my bag

"I didn't think that would work" JJ smiled earning a glare from me in return

—

I woke up with a gasp, tears soaking my cheeks and my hands clutched my chest trying to breathe properly

This was the reason I didn't come home to sleep, the reason I stopped staying over at spencers a few nights a week. I couldn't, not when my dreams were haunted

But this one was the worse yet. I felt the lashes, the beating, they were so real

I couldn't help but dial Spencer, needing hin the most at a time like this

"Ayla?" Spencers voice ran through the phone. He didn't sound tired, so he was awake, most likely on his way home since I could hear cars in the background

"Spencer" I whispered, sniffling away my tears

"Ayla what's wrong?"

"Nothing I- I just had a stupid nightmare. Could you- could you just stay the night with me please?"

"Of course" he replied

"I'm already on my way"

—

Once I heard the knocks at the door I walked over and opened it for Spencer, walking into his nervous embrace that quickly relaxed before he walked me over to my room

"Are you hungry spence? There's food in the kitchen"

"I already ate" he said back once we reached my room

"Im gonna shower, and i'll join you in 5" I nodded and made my way over to my bed getting under the covers as Spencer made his way to the bathroom but this time I didn't make any attempt to sleep

"You're still awake" Spencer noticed getting in bed beside me, moving so he was on his side and facing me

"Hmh, can't sleep" he nodded accepting my answer and lifted his hand to my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumb

"You was lying the other day. You wasn't embarrased and you was intrested in my offer, you just didn't want to sleep" I remained silent unable to speak

"If you have been having nightmares all you had to do is say, I could've been here for you"

"I didn't want to burden you Spencer, I didn't-" I sighed

"It's just scary. I don't know why it effects me so much but I can't get the pain out of my head"

"We can't control what we dream" he spoke, moving closer to me and wrapping his arms around me, and I almost forgot how it felt in his arms being away for so long, safe

"And if you ever want to talk about it more i'm here"

"Another time" I mumbled letting out a breath of relief when I felt Spencer's fingers run through my hair

"You can sleep, i'll be here if you have another nightmare, i'm not going anywhere" my grip on Spencer tightened at his words making sure he stayed, though I knew he would

"I love you Spencer"

"I love you more" I let off a scoff, we could both argue for ages about who loved the other more

#spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr reid #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #JJ #emily prentiss #agent hotchner #agent rossi #agent reid #agent morgan

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melanieathene · 1 month

Text

Mr. Wonderful

This is a love story.

I'd like to say it was a classic case of love at first sight, but I don't know if that's true.

All I know for certain is that it's a love that was meant to be.

We don't get many quality folk in this dump that calls itself a diner. Truckers who haven't seen a washcloth in days – weeks maybe. Bums who stumble in to get out of the cold, taking up table space long after they've drained the last drop of coffee in their cup. Old folks on a tight budget looking for a cheap meal. Cheaters looking to score, streetwalkers looking to oblige them. Impatient, forlorn, pitiful people. Losers, every one.

He stood out like a sunbeam slicing through a cloudy sky. Clean, well-dressed, and handsome – god, he took my breath away with his movie star good looks. He was way prettier than the models you see in those fancy magazines – the ones I leaf through in the grocery line, but can never afford to buy.

“I'm gonna to marry that man,” I murmured.

Rhonda snapped her gum as she turned her head to follow my gaze. “Him?” She snorted. “Honey, he's out of your league. Married. Or gay. My money is on gay. Look at the long-haired fella he's with. There's something going on between them.”

“I don't care. I want that table. I'll trade you for the party of six.” I hitched my thumb towards table three.

The cackling old biddies sitting there were fussy, but they were surprisingly good tippers. Regulars who liked to meet up after church, or their book club, or whatever. Normally, Rhonda and I butted heads over who got to serve 'em.

“Your loss.” Rhonda shrugged and sauntered away. I saw the good-looking guy shoot a glance at her ample bosom as she walked by.

Gay, my ass.

I popped a couple of buttons on my blouse, the better to display my cleavage. If he liked boobs, mine were an even bigger eyeful than Rhonda's. The rest of the package wasn't bad either.

The green eyes that turned my way as I approached the back-corner booth set me in mind of an emerald I once saw in a store window. Dazzling. No other word for it.

“What can I offer you, gentlemen?” I asked in as sultry a voice as I could muster.

“Well, I don't know,” Mr. Wonderful drawled – and damned if he didn't sound just as good as he looked. “What do you have to offer?” The suggestive smile that accompanied the question set my pulse racing and my cheeks ablaze.

“Dean!” the tall one barked.

Oh-oh. I quickly suppressed a sigh. Jealous boyfriend alert. Abort! Abort!

But it would appear luck was on my side, because the next words out of his mouth were:

“You'll have to excuse my brother. He... He's...” Mr. Tall flung up his hands, as if giving up on trying to explain the unexplainable.

His (hallelujah!) brother grinned unrepentantly.

“I'll have a salad – the house dressing is fine,” Mr. Tall continued, obviously deeming it better for all concerned if he changed the subject. “He'll have the double cheeseburger with fries. And, uh... two coffees, please. Make mine decaf.”

“And pie,” Dean added. His eyes caressed my name tag, before straying over to the curve of my breast. “Apple if you've got it, Sherri with an 'i'. With whipped cream –”

“And a cherry on top?”

“Ahh, a woman after my own heart. Thank you, darlin'.”

I could feel the weight of his stare as I walked away. Who could blame me if I put a little extra wiggle in my walk?

“Not gay,” I whispered as Rhonda and I crossed paths. “With his brother. And he's a first class flirt.”

“Hrmph,” she muttered. “That don't mean nothing. I might bump him from gay to bi, but that's the best I can do for you. My gaydar's never wrong.”

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Rhonda? She's my best friend and I love her to bits, but she can be an insufferable pain in the ass when she thinks she's right. Which is all the time.

I wasn't going to let her be right this time. Mr. Wonderful – Dean! – was the kind of man I'd been dreaming of for far too many years. I was through with settling for Cracker Jack toys! I wanted a real prize. And there he was... not ten feet away.

A glance over my shoulder at the booth showed Dean frowning as Mr. Tall shoved his laptop towards him. They both seemed pretty engrossed by whatever was on that screen. Real serious, like. So it would appear that I had a little competition after all. Digital competition. Pfftt! I wasn't worried about that. With my looks and bubbly personality, most men easily sway the way I want them to go. I fluffed my hair and unfastened yet another button. Hey, when you're going for the gold, you gotta give it all you've got.

I picked up the tray containing their order and called up my best smile. The megawatt one that best shows off my dimples and pearly whites.

That smile dimmed considerably as I turned to face them.

There was a third person in the booth. Another man. Another looker, with dark, wind-swept hair and heavy five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. Dean had scooched over to make room for Mr. Trench Coat, but they were sitting close. Really close. In fact, they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.

Dean caught my eye as I approached and hissed, “Personal space!”

“My apologies,” Mr. Trench Coat replied in a low rumble that rivalled Dean's for the honour of sexiest voice ever. Though why he was apologizing wasn't clear to me. Dean was the one who hadn't moved over far enough in the first place. The bigger question was where he had come from, though. I hadn't heard the bell ring to announce his arrival. It was a mystery that didn't sit well with me.

“Would you like to place an order, sir?” I said, polite and frosty in the same breath, as I set plates in front of the two brothers.

“No.”

No, thank you. Lovely manners you have, there.

Blue eyes lifted to meet my gaze, staring at me – through me – as if they could see into my very soul.

“No, thank you,” he intoned.

And just like that, I was dismissed. I mattered less to him than the cockroaches in the kitchen.

His eyes turned back to Dean. Dean's gaze fell to his plate. Mr. Tall choked back what could have been a chuckle – or maybe he just swallowed funny.

I beat a hasty retreat. But I wasn't done with table nine yet. Dean was clearly a dessert man. And I had pie as my secret weapon. Homemade pie, too. None of that pasty store-bought stuff most dives like ours serve. I baked it myself twice a week to squeeze a few extra bucks from our skinflint boss, and I wasn't beyond letting that little fact slip when I brought a slice over to Dean. So, take that, Blue Eyes.

Confidence restored, I felt almost generous towards the poor guy. I even brought him a glass of ice water – which he didn't touch. Nor did he thank me for it.

It was a fairly busy night, but I kept glancing over to that corner as I hurried about my tasks. Dean had once again inched closer to Blue Eyes – or maybe Blue Eyes was crowding him? Either way, their knees and elbows were knocking. Mr. Tall noticed this too. Judging from the knowing little smirk he wore, it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen. But even his eyebrows rose when Blue Eyes casually swiped a fry from Dean's plate, and Dean didn't so much as blink. He'd slapped Mr. Tall's hand when he'd tried that trick not five minutes before, hard, growling something along the lines of, “if you insist on eating rabbit food, don't expect me to share the good stuff.”

Blue Eyes dove in for another fry. And then a third. And then he snagged Dean's coffee and took a tentative sip.

Apparently, that wasn't much to his liking. I had to turn away from the sourpuss face he pulled, just so I didn't laugh out loud. When I turned back, Dean was doctoring his coffee – pouring in creamer and adding tons of sugar – all without taking his eyes off the computer screen or his mind off his ongoing conversation with Mr. Tall. He removed the stir stick from the mug and licked it. Blue Eyes took advantage of his distracted state to grab the coffee and cautiously sample the results. He smiled and took a second, deeper drink. And a fourth fry.

It was with considerably less enthusiasm than I had originally planned that I delivered the pie and declared it was made by yours truly.

Oh, I hovered in the vicinity, ready and eager to reap the rewards of my labour, but I had a sinking feeling that Rhonda – once again – was going to be proven right.

Sure enough, I wasn't the one Dean sought out after the first bite. The look of bliss that crossed his face was all I'd wished for – and more – but it was Blue Eyes he turned to. Blue Eyes on the receiving end of an ecstatic smile. Blue Eyes who obligingly opened his mouth when so prompted, and thus received the second forkful of my pie.

What Blue Eyes thought of it, I'll never know. For at that very moment, the bell that had been faithfully announcing arrivals and departures (except for Blue Eyes', of course) blasted from its place above the door, followed by the door itself. Shattered glass flew in all directions, and the metal frame embedded itself in table five. I heard Rhonda scream, saw her limping for the kitchen with blood seeping from a gash on her left leg. Customers who jumped up, preparing to follow her example and flee, were trampled as a horde of people poured into the diner – fifteen – twenty – maybe more. They looked like a biker gang, all dressed in black leather with dangling chains, all tattoos and piercings and unkempt beards. We've had a lot of bikers pass through. Most of 'em never cause a spot of trouble, though a couple of times we've had rival gangs rumbling in our parking lot. But I'd never, ever before seen black eyes like this lot had. Black. So very black. Like the gates of hell must be...

I'm a little hazy on what happened next. There was a lot of hollering and pushing and crashing. Things flew through the air – tables, chairs, even people.

I slipped in a puddle of what I sincerely hoped was ketchup, and felt myself falling... but, somehow, Dean was there to catch me. He scooped me up in his arms like the hero in one of those stupid romance novels Rhonda likes to read. He carried me through the mêlée, shoved me into the restroom, and told me to lock the door and keep it locked.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't have to see any more to know that whatever was happening out there, it was bad. Really bad.

I just prayed the bathroom door was strong enough to keep it from happening to me.

If there had been a window, I would have climbed out of it and run away.

But there wasn't a window. And I would never have known the end of the story if I had skipped out at the middle.

Two clear voices rang out, rising above the continuous chorus of furious shouts and frantic cries. A sudden wash of light crept under the door, almost blinding me with its intensity. The silence that followed was almost worse than the horrible noise that preceded it.

I'm not ashamed to admit I screamed like a little girl when a quiet knock sounded on the door. I was bawling like one too, I was that scared: snot and mascara smearing my face, breath hitching and heart hammering fit to burst.

“Sherri? Sherri, it's Sam. It's over. It's okay to come out.”

“I don't know you, Sam.” I sniffled and drew closer to the door, but I wasn't about to open it. “Why should I trust you?”

“I'm Dean's brother.”

“Where's Dean?”

“He was injured in the attack. Cas is... uh... patching him up. Don't worry, Dean's in good hands.”

“Is Cas a doctor?”

“No... not exactly. He's... It's hard to explain. Sherri, will you open the door? We have to get you out of here.”

“Dean told me to stay put.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” I heard Sam mutter. And then, louder, “Cas! Can you help Dean over here? I need him to convince Sherri that it's safe.”

Slow, shuffling footsteps made their way across the floor. It felt like an eternity before the voice I wanted to hear finally spoke my name.

“Sherri,” he said wearily. “It's Dean. Open the door.”

Blue Eyes was standing there scowling at me when I cracked the door open. His arm was snugly draped around Dean's waist, clearly supporting most of his weight. Dean's arm was slung around Blue Eyes' shoulders, further steading himself. I suppose I should have felt guilty for making Dean come to me in his condition, but I didn't. I flung myself against his chest and hugged him tight. But not too tight, and not for as long as I really wanted to hold him. His quick gasp let me know how much his ribs were hurting him.

“Thank you,” I said, reluctantly stepping back. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It's what we do. Besides, how could I deprive the world of a five star pie maker like you?” The cocky grin was back and (damn!) it looked good on his face. Even bruised and bleeding, he was one fine looking man.

Blue Eyes' fingers twitched, knotting into the fabric of Dean's shirt. His little finger brushed against bare flesh where the shirt had rucked up. Dean shivered and turned a questioning gaze his way. “Sam will take you home,” he said absentmindedly, as if he'd already forgotten I was still standing there. It was obvious he was trying real hard to fit a puzzle together, as if he'd just found a missing piece and the picture was finally making sense.

Sam ushered me away, his giant hand hovering near my face, ready to shield me from the worst of the carnage, or so I believed at that moment. We were almost to the door when a thought struck me.

“Rhonda!” I exclaimed, suddenly stopping dead in my tracks. “She went into the kitchen. She was hurt.”

“Wait here.” Sam righted a toppled chair and gently but firmly insisted I sit down. I bit my lip as I looked around. Carnage? Where was the carnage? There should have been bodies. Lots of bodies. But there were none, just a strange, dark ash that coated every surface. As if the people had been burned away.

I remembered the blazing light.

Just before it flared, I remembered a voice calling, “Dean! Dean!” Desperation filled the cry. The anguish of a man about to lose all that he held dear. The voice of a blue-eyed man who liked his coffee overly sweet.

And I remembered Dean's voice crying out in reply. One single word: “Cas!” As if the name carried with it a thousand conversations they'd never had – should have had – might now have.

The kitchen door swung on its rusty hinges, and Sam came towards me carrying Rhonda as if she weighed no more than a kitten. She was unconscious, but alive. I felt my heart blossom in relief as I rose from the chair and rested a hand on her arm. Sam led us out the door. Out to the blessed smell of fresh air, where a hint of rain lingered like a promise on the breeze.

I don't know why I turned around for one final look at Mr. Wonderful.

He didn't look back at me.

He and Blue Eyes were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Slowly, Dean leaned forward. Just as slowly, Blue Eyes tilted his head and leaned in to meet him halfway.

All love stories should end with such a tender, yearning kiss.

And, like I said at the beginning, this is a love story.

It just isn't mine.

Originally posted 2015-03-03. Just thought it might be fun to post some old stories here. :)

#supernatural #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #original character #destiel fanfic

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glorianamultistan · 10 months

Note

omg,, can i like, request park seojoon x male reader?? maybe something like some smut after a swimming session 😩 (because seojoon shirtless does unimaginable things to me, and it being forbidden would be so hot hhdhsgs)

love your writing!! keep up the good work omg

OMG! Thank you so much @flwrboi for requesting this. It took too much time, but I hope what I write will be worth it. Also, since you have not specified the reader's disposition, I am taking some liberty. This is obviously, a work of fiction, just presented in a different form.

Park Seojoon x Male Reader

I do not own the pic.

This letter was found in Seojoon's private room at the swimming club, it was not meant to be read by you but due to the request of many and the freedom of knowledge, here it is revealed, through some edits to conceal the names of the most immediate persons, you may form your opinions but remember that offense is allusive and envy is the real poison.

Hyung,

I never thought that I would be related, even if distantly, to you, and in the moments of our first random encounters as relatives, we both know how we tried to not let the past interfere with our present.

The first night in that hotel, when you took me to your room, a mere 19-year-old virgin, with an upcoming star, I felt the golds and whites rush through your skin into my body and all other marks and reliques you left on me; I preserved them till I was able to so without losing my sanity.

For months I felt the ghost of touches and bites on my whole body, you were there, on the screen, shinning brighter than ever and I lived on with the hauntings; nobody after you came close to make me live through those sensations again, they bit, spanked, kissed and put it in the same spots but all were just a parody.

Then, slowly, I recovered from the past and tried to focus on my current life; I had to finish my university degree, and watching you reach new heights assured me that the chance encounter was some cosmic justice done to me to balance out all the past misfortunes.

Yet, after two years of that, there you were again, with a blonde undercut, smiling, the perfect boyfriend of the perfect child of the family. Did you choose my cousin to come back to me? I know, I dream a lot.

I saw the disbalance in your eyes as I was introduced to you, but we had roles to play; we did well, for the most part of it. Two, three, four family gatherings, and the thread was thin, wafered ice, one hot breath away from the abysmal collapse.

And when you were asked to drop me off at my flat, you had to deny, you had to say no and I had to say that I am fine, and should've taken a cab.

I will mark that as the turn, the makeout in the car, the blowjob, the whole night at my flat; you kissed every time with such a fierce will to not let go that the whole next week my tongue felt rough, were you scared that it won't ever happen again? Is that why you wanted to fill me 'to the brim, everywhere'?

Then came the suggestion of swimming lessons, and the naive little cousin of mine, she thought you were a caring hyung to offer help to me.

Your manager arranged everything, and I could not be more thankful to anyone, booking the swimming club for the whole days we were there, covering up for us; for a moment I thought you were sleeping with him too to make him do this much for us, but some people genuinely want to see us happy.

There, in the pool, as you taught me how to swim, I always looked over at your body, glistening with water, and felt as if I were to touch you, you would flow away, like a mirage, but you always assured by quite smoothly going in me that you will be there, holding me, using me and keeping me with you.

You broke up with my cousin after your relationship was publicised and my whole family went against you. So I had no choice but to cut them out of my life to be with you, still, holding on to your promise of living together; I have waited for more than a year now.

Yesterday after we had our swimming session, and we had to drain out the pool as you insisted on doing it in the pool, I put this in your room before leaving, as a confession, though we have confessed many times before, and as a reminder to fulfill your promise too.

I will be meeting you next week now as you have to go abroad, so I hope you come back to me first before going to your place; I will wait while wearing your favourite apron.

love you,

M/L.

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

#fanfiction #kpop x male reader #male reader #gay #bottom reader #korean actor #korean actor x male reader #gay men #gay couple #park seo joon #park seojoon x male reader #seojoon x male reader #experimental #requested

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hauntedestheart · 1 year

Text

Artist Development (Male Possession)

Fame can change people. More specifically, fame can change people into me.

Who am I? I'm nobody and everybody. The biggest star in the world and a complete mystery at the same time. I've sold millions of records without anyone learning my name– you've heard my music, you just didn't know it was mine.

Wondering how this is possible? Let me tell you. I will remain anonymous and names will be redacted, but here's the tea on one of the industry's best kept secrets.

I was just a kid from Nowhere, Iowa (so to speak) who thought music was going to be my ticket out, and I was so sure about it that I dropped out of school and chased my dreams all the way to LA. After all, I was a great singer, played twelve instruments, wrote my own songs... surely I had everything it took to become the next big sensation in music!

Cue the laugh track.

Labels were always excited to meet with me after hearing my demos, but the second they saw my face they couldn't get me out of the room fast enough. I wasn't ugly, just... plain. Unremarkable. Average. And labels aren't interested in signing someone you could see walking down the street.

See, the sad thing about the music industry is that talent is only about 10% of what it takes. Maybe 15% on a good day. Having a successful career is 50% image (a fancy way of saying "being hot"), and that was something that I lacked.

But that remaining 40%? That's how willing you are to play the game, and that ended up being my saving grace.

My career was going nowhere fast, and after years of being beaten down by the industry I was on the verge of calling it quits and limping back home to Iowa. Then I got a call from a label (that shall remain nameless) asking for a meeting.

After years of rejecting me they were now offering me a deal: a guaranteed album release, collaborations with the best writers and producers in the business, a national tour, and a multi-million dollar marketing push.

The catch? I wouldn't be doing it as me.

Apparently the label had snapped up some kid that they were convinced had tons of star potential, but executives were nervous that he was a bit too green to succeed in the industry and they had come up with a radical new solution that could revolutionize artist development. Their r&d team had developed certain technology that could transfer consciousness from one human to another, effectively allowing them complete control over another person's body and live as them indefinitely.

The plan was to implant someone else into the kid's body and have them bear the brunt of his early years– someone with talent, experience, and most importantly, someone desperate that they could control. Someone just like me.

Though what we were doing was entirely legal (just a tip to any aspiring artists out there, always read the fine print in your contracts), for obvious reasons the label wanted to keep it on the down-low. The deal was that I'd "help" him through his first album, and then disappear into the shadows... but during that time I'd get to be a superstar.

Naturally I was conflicted. It was a tempting offer, but it was strange knowing that none of the success would truly be mine. No one would ever know my name. Was a hollow victory better than a defeat? Was I willing to sacrifice my artistic integrity for success?

Turned out the answer was "yes."

What sealed the deal for me was when they showed me a picture of the kid... a tall, strapping white boy who looked like he was built in a lab by thirsty gay men. I'd get to live my dream, and I'd get to do it looking like that? I'd be an idiot to pass that up.

So I accepted and turned him into the superstar he is today. Perhaps you've heard of him.

I spent two years piloting his body while he got his career off the ground, and with his face and my talent it wasn't long until I was topping the charts... and plenty of groupies as well. Fame is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but having tight abs doesn't hurt either! His penis was actually smaller than mine (bummer) but the rest of the package more than made up for it; the face of the boy next door with a body built for sin.

After years of being unremarkable, being a star went to my head fast and I'm not ashamed to admit that I became a bit of a slut... but trust me, if you could experience what it's like to be the hottest young thing on the scene, you'd do the same. I used that guy's body to fuck men and women in every city across America, and I even managed to do it without tarnishing his good boy image.

As long as I never missed a show or appointment, the suits were happy– and it helped that I was sucking them off behind their wives' backs.

(Like I said, you have to be willing to play the game.)

Eventually my contract ended and the label allowed the artist to resume control of his own body, but they were so pleased by my performance that they asked me to help them out with someone else– an established artist whose wild behavior was becoming a bit of a liability. Would I mind stepping in for him for a bit and helping get his career back on track after a few scandals?

And since then my life has been a whirlwind of different bodies. I've become the industry's invisible hatchet man, the enforcer who gets called in to deal with singers who need a bit of extra attention.

I've done it all: broken in newbies, rebranded stars, stood in for legends. I did a year in South Korea as a Kpop star– didn't speak a word of Korean, but that doesn't matter when you're as beautiful as he was. Name a boy band, I've probably spent at least a week as one of their members. I'm everywhere.

By this point I've lived so many lives that it would be pointless to list them all, so I'll stick to the greatest hits.

I took over the body of the frontman of a rock band who didn't want to "sell out" by going in the more sexual, commercial direction that the label wanted for them– which I, of course, had no qualms about. His shirt came off, and everyone was happy about what was underneath.

The other members of the group were skeptical at first, but I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it. A lot of their fans wound up absolutely hating the new music, but hey, that wasn't any of my business!

Being onstage as a rock star is electrifying, when the music pounds and the crowd screams I feel like an absolute god. When I was up there shaking that wiry body around I knew that every single person in that room wanted to fuck me, and the second I got offstage I did my best to let them. Even if they didn't like the music, none of them complained when I invited them back to my dressing room.

And let me tell you, alt-rock groupies? They're freaky.

A lot of the artists I get assigned to are skinny young men (because every label thinks they're going to launch the next teen idol) so it's always a treat when I get to work as someone a bit more... let's say mature.

Once a popular r&b singer got into a dispute with his label over not wanting to film a certain feline related movie, so I was brought in to smooth things out in my own special way.

His voice wasn't that great but damn, could he move. I had to take a crash course in dancing but thanks to his body's muscle memory in a few weeks I was doing flips and splits I'd never dreamed of. The things his body could do were insane, and I took full advantage of that.

Strictly speaking about bodies, his was the best I've had. He was big in a way a lot of the other guys weren't, huge biceps and rippling pecs that I loved to show off. A hell of an ass too, though I didn't get much use out of it because he had the biggest penis I'd ever seen on a man and I wanted to cram that elephant trunk into everything I could.

A lot of the time, when I look in the mirror at the bodies of these superstars, I wish that I could suck on their dick. But in his body? If I bent over I actually could.

Honestly I hated the music I made as him– but man, I miss that dick.

I had similar motivations for spending a few months as an up and coming country music star– a bit more indie than my usual jobs, but I jumped at the chance to try out being a bigger guy (because let's face it, there aren't enough of those in the industry).

After years of cycling between bodies with abs it was a bit of a shock to suddenly have a gut, but the experience was even better than I could have dreamed. It's sensual in a different way– the feeling of all that soft flesh sliding under my hands still haunts my dreams.

Plus he was openly gay (another rarity, look at that) which meant I didn't have to keep my usual nighttime escapades on the down low. I didn't feel any less sexy– quite the opposite actually, I've never had people worship my body as hard as the guys I hooked up with when I was a scruffy bear cub.

Being gym trained hunks isn't exactly a hardship, but I did tell my management to keep an eye out for any more jobs like this one.

But probably my favorite experience was when I spent eight months helping a certain reggaeton artist break into the US market. The sex I had using that body? Out of this world.

I'm not sure what it was but his body was just built for sex. It oozed out of every inch of him, from those bulging tattooed arms to the hefty seven inches (soft!) he was packing down below. There was even a music video where someone sucked on my toes, because apparently even his feet were sexy.

This was the closest I ever came to getting fired, but I couldn't help it! I was constantly horny, all I could think about was drinking and screwing. I ended up overindulging a bit and the paparazzi caught some snaps of me stumbling out of a party naked and well... even though this guy had nothing to be ashamed of, it wasn't my proudest moment.

My ass was saved because the pictures blew up on Twitter in a good way, so his management decided that having a sexy bad boy image was actually good for him. Getting paid to party, have one night stands, and dance around shirtless? I have the best job in the world, and I never want to lose it.

Currently I'm assigned to a new guy, some viral online sensation that the label is worried will be just a one-hit wonder and needs the help of my special brand of direction.

I'm excited because I'm already seeing tons of "potential" in him... we're gonna make sweet music together, I can tell.

Gif sources: (x) (x)

#male possession #male body swap #a bit of a longer one and I'm not sure how I feel about it but I like the concept #any resemblance to artists real or fictional is a wacky coincidence (and a great compliment)

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runawrites-blog · 6 months

Text

Quiet (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

(Gif Not Mine)

Summary: You are a clairvoyant and have a horrible vision of Bucky’s death during the snap. Bucky is there to calm you down but you fear that this vision might just come true. (Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 1,372 Warnings: Nightmares, Referenced Character Death/ Character Death in a Dream, Mild Violence, Spontaneous Marriage Proposal, No Use of Y/N, Petnames (Doll, Love) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083009

--- Everything went quiet.

Then suddenly, noises started to break through the silence as people began to call out to one another and exclaim their terror. You turned your head and saw people slowly starting to turn to dust.

The first thing you did was look for Bucky. Once you’ve spotted him you ran over to him, falling into his arms. “Bucky, what is happening?”

“He won.” Bucky whispered softly. “Half of the universe is going to turn to dust.”

You closed your eyes in fear, holding onto Bucky tightly. Bucky slowly moved his hands to your back and held you. You stood like this for a few seconds before you heard the man gasp.

In absolute horror, you looked up to see that Bucky was turning to dust right between your fingers. The love of your life was turning to dust right in front of your very eyes and there was nothing in all of the universe that you could do.

“Bucky, please.” You whispered, tears in your eyes. “This can’t be happening!”

“Love, you will be fine.” He said quietly as you watched his arms turn to dust. “Don’t be afraid. You will be fine.”

Those were the last worst you heard him say because just after that he turned to dust completely. In a panic, you tried to grasp the dust. You didn’t know why but you just felt like you had to hold onto some part of him, if only a speck of dust. Tears ran down your cheeks as you tried but failed to catch the remnants of Bucky, the wind blowing them away.

“No!” You wailed, falling to your knees. “No, please so.”

Someone called out your name and when you turned Steve was at your side. “Is Bucky--”

“Yes!” You sobbed out, nodding your head. “I was holding him a second ago and now-- now he is gone!”

Steve did his best to comfort you, despite his own grief. He was mourning his friends and you knew it but you were thankful for him trying to be there for you, so you simply leaned into his side. It was a small comfort to know that you still had some of your friends left and that they actually cared about you.

But in all honesty, nothing really mattered anymore. Bucky was gone.

---

Your head shot up and you blinked a few times. Bucky was looking at you in shock from where he was sitting in his hut. You were currently visiting him in Wakanda and apparently, the two of you had just eaten dinner when your vision had hit you.

“Love, are you with me again? You were gone there for a second.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I--”

“Did you have a vision?” He asked quietly. “What about?”

"I don't want to say it."

"Saying it won't make it come true, Doll."

“He won and everyone turned to dust.” You whispered, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “Even you.”

“Alright, doll.” Bucky sat down right next to you. “Listen to me now. That may have been one possible future but every choice we make can change that.”

“Really?”

“We’ll defeat him.” Bucky said quietly. “I’m just wondering when Steve is gonna be here.”

“Me, too. I just hope that we can help him. and the others.”

“I hope so, too.” Bucky looked at you. “Doll, can you promise me that you will look out for yourself first and foremost?”

“I can try but if he as much as looks at you the wrong way, I will not hesitate to attack him.” You shook your head. “Not after-- I can’t leave you alone after what I saw in my vision.”

“What exactly happened?”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you shut them tightly. It didn’t stop the tears from flowing but it stopped you from seeing Bucky’s reaction. “We were fighting his army and he wasn't really around. I don’t know where he was but he won. And then suddenly everyone disappeared. I held you so tightly but you disappeared.”

Bucky nodded, listening to you carefully before inching closer and putting his hand on your shoulder. “Love, we will all be fine. So many good, capable people are joining us in the fight.”

“He has an army.”

“We have one, too.”

“How can you be so sure that we'll be fine?” You sobbed out. “You’re not a clairvoyant, are you?”

“No, but I’m trying to be an optimist.” He said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. “You trust me, don’t you, Doll?”

“Yes, of course, Sweetheart.” You swallowed thickly. “It was just so horrible. Everything went quiet and at that moment in my vision I knew he had won, I knew that something was off. I cannot bear to see you all go. And most of all I cannot bear to see you go.”

“I won’t go. Not now and not ever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He then chuckled softly, trying to cheer you up. “After all, if I was gone who would try to keep you in check? I swear you’re just as bad as Steve, so neither of you can be trusted to keep the other out of trouble.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that and when you saw his proud expression at making you laugh a smile overtook your features.

“I’m glad to have you, Bucky.”

---

The battle was in full action and you were dodging knives and bullets left and right. You had never been a fighter but you knew how to defend yourself and you intended to make use of that knowledge. Of course, you weren’t a god, an assassin, or a superhero in high-tech armour but you knew a thing or two about how to fight.

You rammed your dagger into another man’s heart, pulling back and grunting in exhaustion. You spared a look at Bucky and swallowed. He seemed bad off, trying to fight back an avalanche of attackers.

Without a second thought, you ran over to him and helped him out. He looked at you in shock, obviously not happy about you fighting off this storm of bad guys with him. But you didn’t care. If you were to die trying to protect him, so be it.

As you sliced the head of another person, Bucky spoke up. “You know, I always loved how despite your powers being so passive, you chose to fight back instead of doing nothing.”

“I know what’s right and I will fight for it.” You kicked a woman off of you. “And what he’s trying to do is not right.”

“Love, once all of this is over, would you stay with me?” Bucky asked you as he shot two people before they could attack you. "Would you stay by my side?"

“Thanks.” You gasped out as you dodged another bullet. “I would love to stay with you. I always dreamed of spending my life with you.”

“Then we should do that. We should spend our life together. No one knows what the future brings and I want to face it with you.” He gave you a small smile while he continued to fight. “We should make that official.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, are you proposing to me in the middle of slicing through aliens?”

“It’s as good a time as any, Doll.” He joked, shooting someone that came to attack you. “I love you and you love me. We should make it official. But I could always do something more romantic if you want me to.”

“No.” You chuckled softly. “This is as perfect as it gets. As long as I get to be with you, nothing else matters.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” He smiled a little, turning his head to you for a second. “Now go and help the others. I’ll be fine.”

You gave him one last smile and then headed off. Just as you were about to stab a man who was attacking Clint, you stopped in your tracks. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. It took you a second to realise what was so off but when you did, your heart dropped.

The noises of battle had vanished. There was only one thing you heard.

Quiet.

#mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #avengers infinity war #infinity war #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes x reader #fanfiction #writing #textpost #marvel x reader #mcu x reader

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

Note

Can you please do 58 and 22 (smut?) from your prompts with Eddie and f!reader? Thank you!

(‘’If you called just to get off on my voice, I’m hanging up.’’ + “You make my heart feel some type of way and it’s freaking me out.”)

A/N: I didn’t include smut since you put it as an option and I have a lot of smut coming in the next few days

With the pep rally being tomorrow, it took you a long time to fall asleep. It’s gonna be your first time being on top of a pyramid figure and you were nervous. Very nervous. What if you lost balance and fell? What if you forgot to jump down at the right time and messed up the whole choreography? Chrissy would be so mad.

The last thing you needed was to be woken up from your slumber by the shrill sound of the phone only inches from your face, but that’s exactly what happened. Naturally, it startled you, stirring you from your sleep with a skip of heartbeat.

''Hello?'' you croaked half awake, covering your mouth with your free hand as you yawned.

‘’What are you wearing?’’

You furrowed your eyebrows at your boyfriend’s frantic voice. ‘’Eddie?’’

‘’What are you wearing?’’ he repeated.

His breathing was fast, as if he had been running…or jerking off.

You sighed, not in the mood for these kinds of shenanigans. ‘’If you called just to get off on my voice, I’m hanging up. I got a pep rally to perform at in six hours and I need to look fresh-’’

‘’No!’’ he cut in. ‘’That’s not- Please, just tell me what you’re wearing.’’

By now, you were to his strange questions and thoughts, but this was on another level. He made it sound like it was a life or death importance.

You looked down at your pajamas, seeing a Tigers tee shirt and baby blue striped shorts. You told him and he breathed out in relief, making you frown.

‘’I’m sorry for calling so late. It’s just….I had this dream, this nightmare. You were wearing my Hellfire club shirt and your eyes were all white. I tried to wake you up, but you lifted in the air and your bones started cracking and breaking and your body contorting-'’ He stopped himself, closing his eyes shut tightly to shake away the horrible memories. ‘’Fuck. It seemed so real, Y/N. It was terrifying.’’

Hearing Eddie’s nightmare made you want to get on your bike and go to his house to give him a hug. And lots of kisses. There was real terror in his voice. It wasn’t some kid's irrational nightmare where there’s a ‘monster’ in their closet or under their bed type. He sounded genuinely scared of his nightmare happening.

‘’Nothing happened to me. I’m okay,’’ you reassured him in a soothing voice.

Although his nightmare had no possibilities of happening, you didn’t invalidate his fear or tell him he was being ridiculous. All fears were valid.

‘’Good. I needed to check that you were okay. It’s stupid, I know but-’’

‘’It’s fine, love. I’d rather you call me at 1am and feel better than worry all night on your own.’’ You changed the tone of the conversation, lightening the mood. ‘’That’s what you get for planning a D&D campaign right before bed. You get dreams about the monsters.’’

You heard him chuckle. ‘’Yeah, it’s probably that. Sorry - again. It’s just, you make my heart feel some type of way and it’s freaking me out. I’ve never had someone to love or call mine. I guess I’m scared of losing you. Apparently, I’m so scared it haunts my dreams.’’ He laughed it off, but you knew there was some truth.

‘’I need to be at school early tomorrow, but can you pick me up? We could spend some time together before class and we could grab breakfast too.’’

‘’That means 6am, right? God, that’s early.’’

‘’Or we can meet at lunch-’’

‘’6am is fine. I’m gonna hang up and let you sleep now. See you in the morning.’’

Before he cut the line, you said his name. ‘’Eddie?’’ He hummed. ‘’I love you.’’

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he had a bashful smile on his face. ‘’I love you too.’’

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sircesimblr · 4 months

Text

Stam: Am I? Already bubbling with love for her? Haha, I guess I am. I do. When I look in the mirror, I can see her face right next to mine. I feel I can ask her things, I feel I want to listen to her, even when I've just woken up. She feels familiar. And I also think I may have seen her before, when she was in the bistro with her friend. You know, the singer from the band.

Manon: She has a friend in a band? Like, a troubadour-friend? My goodness. Rachel, dear, dear Rachel, please be careful. Don't mingle with such people until you've got your husband. These kind of things can reflect badly upon your pure self.

Stam: Don't worry. It is a really great band. Having such a friend cannot harm Rachel's virtue, haha, if that's what your concerned about. But please, let's talk about me. Tell Rachel something nice. Why am I the most rounded package she can get? Haha. Not fishing for compliments or anything.

Klaus-Ove: Obviously.

Manon: Where do I begin? First of all, Miss Rachel, this man might be a prince! His fair Northern mother, a hardworking nurse, met a tall and dark stranger in Al Simhara, who never revealed his name. I mean, look at Mr. Hardenes: that must have been a prince!

Stam: Let's not talk about the guy who knocked my mother up. He could just as well have been a troubadour, Miss de La Haye. I've never met him.

Manon: Oh? Yes, you've been raised by your dear mother alone, but surely you must feel, a certain kind of nobility... in your veins...

Stam: Nope.

Manon: But your looks!

Stam: Ah. My looks. I don't really care about that. Neither does Rachel I'm sure. I'm proud I have my mum's eyes and I'm proud I am strong and never ill, so I can pursue my dreams and be a good son to my beloved mother. She's my everything.

Manon: You don't care about it, yet you look in the mirror long enough to imagine your dream wife's face beside your own.

Stam: I practise my charisma skills.

Manon: I'm sure you do. Early in the morning. Right out of bed. I'm sure you practise your athletic skills too, not to build those fine muscles I notice beneath your far too gaudy shirt, but to...

Stam: Do you have any idea how hard the work of a chef is? If you don't keep your body in shape, you'll simply perish preparing meals. You won't make it a single night. Besides, I told you, I don't care about looks. All I aspire my body to be in the future, is soft and chubby, so my kids can use me as a teddybear or a trampoline, or a doormat, for all I care. I want to be the greatest dad in the world. I want to be the dad I never had. I want to be the dad that should have supported my mother every step of the way.

Manon: Goodness me, I knew you wanted a family. But this... So, one really has to read between the lines, with your person. And all these jobs you have, the whole rigmarole, besides being, simply put, gorgeous, all that is not to get ahead of others, nor to behave like a gentleman should, it is...

Stam: I'm just skilling up for the future I want. Making a name while I'm still single. But when I've found my love, and my home becomes a reality, and I hold my first baby in my arms, all falls second to that. And then I will be prepared. I will be so prepared. It will be nothing but happiness.

Manon: Oh, all the heavens above me. An airmonger.

Klaus-Ove and Orbin: Wow, man.

Stam: I thought you'd seen all that in me, Miss, when you said I was the total package for Rachel.

Manon: Oh, sweetheart... And you cared for your mother, when she had what you call a "burn out", when you were young? Twice?

Stam: I did. Why?

Manon: No... nothing. Just another thing Rachel needs to know. Something about an apple and a tree. Never mind. Let's... let's proceed and present the last of you. Mister Klaus-Ove Larsen, please come up here, you carefree looking pup.

Stam: I won't get to address Rachel myself, like Orbin did?

Manon: Well..., you can still try. We surely have another minute, haven't we, gentlemen? There, go ahead, Mr. Hardenes.

Stam: Okay. So here it is, dear Rachel. My dear Rachel. I've only seen you once or twice, yet you are already on my mind, like constantly. You intrigue me, you calm me down, I feel things. Possibilities of a future together. I could be that guy you describe. I could stay in with you, for a lifetime I guess. But I'd also like to take you out, to see people, to go for a delicious dinner, or to soak up art at a gallery. And maybe, someday to take you to the country half of me comes from. All preferably with our little one in a carrier on my back... Am I going too fast? I probably am. I don't want to scare you. I'll probably be quiet and in awe when we finally meet. And I can be funny too. Just contact me. I'll make sure it'll be worth your time.

Manon: Thank you, Mr. Hardenes. And now, sweet, dear Rachel, you know what they say: last may be best! Here is Mr. Klaus-Ove Larsen, the youngest of these gentlemen, someone who might sweep you off your feet in a swirl of magnificent creativity.

(prev)

#a man for rachel #@kimmiessimmies #sims 3 #ts3 #intermezzo AU mini story

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