#I dream of your name next to my own but mine's looking fine up there alone

[tamaharu]

okay thats interesting! in the SF try-outs during the song "legally blonde" she sings about how she cant be legally blonde, while in the official version AND THE DEMO she sings about letting her be legally blonde. which means that at some point they changed the lyrics around, and then changed them back! laurence o'keefe.... nell benjamin.... what occurs in your twisted minds

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

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You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.” 

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive. 

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.” 

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?” 

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent. 

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance. 

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens. 

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.” 

“Much.” 

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one. 

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet. 

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric. 

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back. 

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders. 

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer. 

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon’s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss. 

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra @avalyaaa

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[sameschmidtdiffname]

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

[estrellami-1]

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! ❤️

[jocelynscrazyideas]

I NEED MORE QUINN CONTENT

Hurts | Quinn Hughes x Reader🫶

NOT PROOD READ

🚨‼️none of my blurbs are ever proof read‼️🚨

Summary: Quinn gets defensive in his take of having kids, in order to be happy in a successful relationship, you feel that you need to have a partner that values having their own family. Quinn disagrees and decides to focus on his career, which you agreee and support, but you bring up having to split. Quinn makes a decision…

Warnings: physical contact, no abuse, argument if kids?

A:N- Ik you prob meant some smut, but I’m in a mood and I decided to write something else🫶 Quinn smut coming next after a Jack smut!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

I told myself that I would stand up for myself, I would never let a man tell me what to do. I’m an independent woman, who occasionally lets herself have fun with her boyfriend. It’s difficult trying to fulfill your childhood dreams, but this isn’t a dream. This is a full on goal, I know I can keep up to it, it’s just Quinn makes me want to disrespect myself.

He literally screams out my name, he listens, he helps me understand things that I don’t get, he supports me, and most importantly, he gives me respect, and true loyalty and honesty, he fully trusts me. He would give me anything I want.

“Lovie?” Quinn breaks the silence from our previous argument. He places his hand on my inner thigh. I feel a pulse in my pelvis.

“Hm.” I responded, just letting him know I’m listening, but still upset about our disagreement. Early on in the morning, Wuinn and I disagreed about the love for our jobs and our future together. I wnat kids, he doesn’t. I know, I said he would give me anything that makes me happy. This is one thing he doesn’t agree upon.

Quinn had previously mentioned that kids isn’t in his future, just because he’s so focused on his career. Do I agree with his story? Yes. I understand where he’s coming from, but I’m truly curious when we can have babies.

“I know some people break up from not agreeing in a future family. But that’s not us.” Quinn stated.

I’m disappointed. I really am, I thought he would understand where I’m coming at.

“Well, just saying… when you get the handle of being Captain, maybe we could fit in having a child, or more.” I insist. I know it’s hard, you know being Captain, but after a few years of Captain.

I mean we’re at the perfect age to start considering kids. Mid-20s, that way when our kids are about 10, we’ll be 30, and when they’re 18… well we would be about early late 40s. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to wait a few years to have kids, especially Quinn story.

I’m staring out the window, I know it’s hard for Quinn to feel so left out of my thinking, but I’m truly horrified. I’m scared that this will split us apart. Maybe this is a sign from God. Maybe I’m getting signals by the universe, “this is what’s best for us.” Quinn says as he looks over at me.

Suddenly the trees look so beautiful. Maybe I should just jump out of this car, the ride home is taking to long.

We’re driving home from a party at Peteys house to kick off the season. Our first game is next week and the roster is finalized, the letters are printed on the jerseys. Everything is ready.

“We have to finish this.” Quinn says, not letting this go.

“fine.” I say making it clear I don’t want to finish this “debate” and this so called “problem” of mine. I pull out my phone and call Ellen.

“Hey Mama Bear!” I say, Ellen can’t know that Quinn and I are going through something. This “debate” isn’t just happening, it’s been brought up about four times.

“What’s up Y/n? Something wrong?” Ellen askes, she gets up from her kitchen table and walks into her bedroom, where Jim lays on his computer finishing some work.

She points the camera at them both and Quinn speaks up, “no mom. Nothings wrong, I’m not sure why Y/n keeps calling.” Quinn motions to put the phone down. I obviously don’t do as he says.

“Yes, actually. I’m just wondering-“ I imply, but Quinn cuts me off.

“No. Nothing is wrong.” And he takes my phone and turns off the video call. He chucks the phone in the back. He pulls into the driveway of our home.

“We can fix this ourselves.” Quin eyes my belly. He climbs over the panel that separates my seat and Quinn’s.

“no, I don’t think we can.” I say as I pull away from Quinn’s request to kiss me. I see the look in Quinn’s eyes as he sees my pain.

My voice cracks, I sure I can’t be with someone that doesn’t wnat the life Ive fancied since I was a girl.

“Lovie. Come back.” Quinn slams his car door, and he locks the vehicle. He storms behind me as I run into our bathroom.

“Unlock the door.” Quinn pounds not once but twice and his feet trail off to our garage.

“Unlock it before I wreck it.” Quinn says as he grunts as if he picked something heavy off the ground.

“I don’t want to have makeup sex, or talk about it. Just let me live, or let me think this through. Because Quinn, right now it sounds like you want me to give up my dreams of being a mom.” I know hate is a sin. I just- I’m not sure if I can even think about leaving my childhood goal behind.

“Okay. If that’s what you need, I’ll leave.” And I hear a crack and a boom from above me.

I look up from the ground and I see Quinn has stabbed the door with a hatchet. I didn’t even know we had that in our home.

I stand up from the ground and back up towards our shower. I hit our wall that’s parallel to our wood door.

“I love you.” Quinn says as I see the door bang. The door is about to give up. Quinn runs into the door once more and I see him fall to the ground with our door. I’m stuck inside our shower. Quinn is on the door that had fallen. The wind was knocked iut if him.

“Baby?” I say as I step carefully out of the bathroom and into our room. I grab a first aid kit.

Quinn is bleeding from his head.

“Why did you do it?” I say in a frantic tone. I pick Quinn’s head up and I clean his wound.

“I’m fine. And I want kids.” Quinn says as he smiles.

Quinn gets up and sticks a bandaid on his cut. He takes his pants off and followed by his boxers. He throws his shirt off. He’s bare skinned and he jumps into bed.

I do the same. I throw my shirt off, leaving my bra on, and I slide my jeans off. Taking my thong off and sliding it onto if Quinn’s pile of clothing, I snap my bralette off and I throw it elsewhere. I jump into bed as Quinn hold me. The lights are off, doors are locked. We’re exhausted.

Quinn holds me in his arms, legs wrapped over me. Dick pricked up looking at me. My boobs hang to the side as I’m laying on my side as well. Quinn pulls me in, kisses my shoulder, and he whispers a name.

“Vada.” Quinn kissed my forehead and sets his head in my breasts. He falls asleep, not a care in the world about our broken door that he had slammed down.

This argument is settled, we’re having kids.

[dbnightingale24]

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.

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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.

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“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

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Later that morning, I sit back in my chair and stare blankly at my desk. I absent-mindedly swipe away a dark speck of dust that has landed on the otherwise clean white surface while Blinky gives me side-eyes in my periphery. The headphones he wears have become just as much a decoration as he is since the left side started crackling with static during certain songs, and I have to admit, they look better on him anyway.

Today, it feels like my whole head is full of static, like an old television that’s losing reception. I start to wonder if I angle my head the right way, maybe I can get a sharper image and clearer sound again. I tilt my head to the side in a half-hearted attempt with no luck and feel silly for it.

Mornings usually aren’t this difficult for me, but today I just can’t seem to fully wake up. My vision blurs and I pinch my eyes closed, pressing into them with my thumb and forefinger. The office gets gradually louder as people start their day, chatting with one another and typing on their keyboards. I look forward to being able to put in my earbuds and drown them out.

Suddenly, a heavy hand lands on my back. I know without looking that it’s our manager, Kiyoshi. I lift my head up as he asks, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I tell him as I try to focus on his face rather than the stars floating in front of me, “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Sorry to hear that. We’re training tomorrow, so try to get some rest tonight.”

“Will do.”

He gives me a nod and turns his attention to his own desk and computer screen.

I glance at the clock and sigh. How can a day feel this long at only 8:54 in the morning?  

With a yawn, I grab my empty mug, grateful that I at least have time to fill it before our morning meeting.

As I turn the corner toward the kitchenette, I notice two people already hovering around the coffee machine. I stop in my tracks and debate turning back. There’s nothing I want less than to wait awkwardly behind them while they finish up and leave. Especially if they try to make small talk. I don’t know their names, so it’ll be even worse if they know mine. No amount of coffee is worth it. I don’t care how tired I am.

I curse under my breath and walk back to my desk, set my mug down, and make my way to the conference room.

I take my usual spot in the back, against the window, and wait as the rest of our team files in behind me. Lex catches my eye and skips over, “G’morning,” she greets me with a smile.

“Morning,” I say, attempting to give her a small smile in return, but inevitably giving up.

“You alright?”

“Just tired. I thought your friend was starting today. Or is that next week?”

“No, it’s today. He’s with Jeanie, getting his badge and all that. He’ll be here in a minute.”

I nod and look out the window, to the mountains in the distance. I like the view here. Our last office was surrounded by other buildings on all sides so you couldn’t see anything aside from the busy streets below. When we relocated here, to the edge of Uptown, it was a pleasant surprise to see a real view. As senior developer, I’m lucky enough to have a desk by the window. It almost makes the extended commute to this stuffy neighborhood worth it. Almost.

I turn my attention forward as Kiyoshi starts the meeting, and immediately see a flash of teal out of the corner of my eye. My heart stops and my breath catches in my chest as though I just had the wind knocked out of me, a small piece of my dream suddenly clear in my mind, so real that I can still feel the weight of him lying limp in my arms. A wave of grief climbs up my throat and I nearly scream his name, but… but I don’t know his name. I try to remember it, unable to take my eyes off him as he walks into the room.

“Oh good, you made it,” Kiyoshi gestures toward him, “Everyone, this is Asher, our new environment artist. Evan will show you around after the meeting and get you up to speed.” Evan raises their hand and Asher nods to them.

Asher.

Ash.

The name echoes in my mind, again and again, like it’s being shouted in a vast and empty cave, bouncing off every wall and back again.  The room around me tilts sideways, and I think I might be sick.

Prev // Next

[smoooothoperator]

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

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

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!

1.

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.

[bradtomlovesya]

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.

[hummusxx]

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

[ak319]

Unveil

(Gp actress x fem reader)

(Scene # 03)

(your name is Fairoz in the story)

Unveil part 1 Unveil part 2

Fairoz's eyes lingered on the fabrics that were laid out on her bed. The fabrics which were sent as a gift by the Dagons. Not only that but the jewelery as as well. Her aunt , Dilay excitedly displaying the gifts to Fairoz while her ramble about how 'the dresses ould be designed' , 'how beautiful, expensive and refined this embroidery looks' and 'which dress would Fairoz wear on what occasion' remained constant to her neices's ears.

It had been a week since Fairoz had accepted Aman's proposal, but not initially. Yes, the girl had rejected Aman. She just couldn't imagine such a life nor had any interest in marriage, especially if it was with Aman. It would seem unfair to Aman as well. Nevertheless Aman was persistent.

'We can get engaged only.'

'Don't do this to me...'

Words like that which Aman said to her in their second meeting. It was quite embarrassing and almost made Fairoz feel guilty but she reminded herself that it was her choice , why should she feel bad. It's not Aman's life , it's mine. She is not the main character here , I am.

1 week ago

Her pillar of strength after her parents death was her uncle , Usama. How he brought her up , supported her , just like her own father would have done. So when she heard him pleading as if his life dependant on it on the phone with whom she presumed was Aman's father , her walls weakened as well. Her uncle was in a turmoil . The man known for his charisma and outstanding works , was broken .

"Report them, papa. Tell the police. They have no right to--

"Dove, you have no idea, what they can do."

"But even if I accept the proposal, how the hell would I spend my life with her knowing her family threatened you! This isn't right. Ugh! This is making me soo ---" Fairoz slapped her uncle's study table which was followed by a bleak silence.

"How were you even working with such horrendous people, baba?."

Usama sighed and sat on the couch. "I--because I focused on the work, Fairoz. Working with her was bound to happen one day. I never thought that this day would come where she would be asking for---" he paused and gulped "It's my fault, I shouldn't have brought you with me to the set that day." Fairoz leaned off the table and scurried to her uncle's side.

"No, no, don't blame yourself. I wanted to see it remember? And who could ever imagine what is going to happen next---isn't this what we call life. We face tests, fears, predicaments and happiness. These things make up the whole experience of what we call life. Now, putting aside the worry, let's think about a solution." Usama smiled and gently patted the girl's left cheek. She was always so level-headed and strong-willed. His brother would be so happy----if only he was here, maybe he would have protected his daughter better. 'I failed at it....so bad.'

"Looking at the pros, well, Aman really likes you. She would keep you happy....probably. She has left the industry and has a stable life. And cons--" Usama breathed in a sigh "Do I have to explain? Their wealth is their power. I am like any other parent, deeming Aman as untrustworthy to be your life partner. She is stubborn, hot-headed, and--I don't know. " Usama put his head in his hands. All of this was giving him a headache. How can the safety of Fairoz be guaranteed? She was his daughter. He and Dilay were unable to have children and Fairoz fulfilled their dream. No! He has to remain strong for her.

"Papa--I don't think there is any solution for them to leave us alone except that I accept it---right?" They both stared at each other. Usama was trying to convince himself that no there has to be a way other than this.

"If your job is at stake then I wouldn't jeopardize it. You and Mama did so much for me, you both don't deserve it. And I assure you, I would be fine, absolutely fine. She would have no power over me, I won't let her." Her tone was filled with so much conviction and ...reprisal that Usama was speechless. He couldn't even reply before she spoke "You can call and say yes to Aman for me. Now, take a good night's rest and forget all about this. Imagine this never happened and be happy that your daughter is getting married." Giggling she kissed his forehead and left the room. Usama, with his heart full of regret, anger, guilt, and dejection, did what had to be done.

Present time

"I mean yeah, I know---but that is not what I wanted. Wait, hold up. I'll call you later. And you better have a solution when I call you again." After whispering the last part Aman hung up the phone, her eyes stuck to the figure which they were dying to see. It was as if a sudden wave of coolness and placidity had spread over all the nerves and each and every cell in her body. She was in white kameez and trousers, with minimal makeup and accessories. A bag lazily hung on her shoulder which indicated she was coming from her college. Her beautiful and absolutely breathtaking soon-to-be-wife elegantly stood by the door. Her expression is devoid of feelings, the feelings which were felt by Aman at that moment. But that's okay. One day those feelings will be reflected back.

'She will be happy seeing me. She will be happier when she starts her life with me. Her shyness is almost gone, and sadness will be over too. After all, she has no idea how lucky she is yet.'

"Fairoz, always so good to see you." By now Aman hadn't even noticed that instead of inviting Fairoz in , she had walked up to her, near the door. She took the chance to close the door whose handle Fairoz was holding casually and took a deep breath, inhaling her fairy's scent. "So--umm what brings you here? , love. Did you come by yourself? You could have called me---I would have picked you or sent the driver--you

"My uncle also has a driver," Fairoz stated the obvious. Aman scoffed in her mind 'Oh yeah, her uncle exists too.'

"Anyway, come have a seat." Instead of the table, Aman led her to the couch and immediately dialled her PA's number to order some refreshments.

"When I told them I wanted to meet you, they didn't question me. Do they already know?." Fairoz referred to the employees.

"Yeah, of course. I told them the very day, I got the good news." Fairoz nearly gagged at the appearance of red hue on Aman's ears and cheeks. Too much bashfulness for someone who belongs to a family of blackmailers.

"Were you missing me love? I did. I miss you every day, every second. Can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you here."

"Well , this is going to be normal , I guess , me coming here---everyday." It was as if Aman's ecstasy reached a new high. Really?! Her wife would do that?!

"I am going to work here so might as well get to know the map and people, right? That is why I came here since I was free from college early today." Fairoz plastered her most gentle smile. Meanwhile, Aman blinked in confusion. Work here? Oh....

"Yeah , yeah of course. I would give you a tour."

"Not only the tour, though. You would take my interview and hire me as well. " Fairoz reached into her bag and took out a file. "See, I brought my CV. " Which contained all the digital work as well as some internships Fairoz had done up til now, not to forget extracurricular activities relating to business in her college. "But this is for later--first the tour. I can't wait further. Please."

God , this girl. Where did this demanding behaviour come from though? Was she teasing? Or serious. She looks serious. And cute and....

"Umm--damn. Isn't someone too excited? Isn't it early though? Like interview can be done after marriage."

"Yeah, it can but you know I don't trust anyone so easily. " She put her hand on the side of her face as if she was telling Aman a secret "Also--what if you don't hire me after marriage. People change you know."

Well---that was the plan but this girl---how can Aman say no? Her doe eyes are not made for tears.

'I can't be a villain right now. She already knows about the threats--of course she does--she hasn't discussed them with me which is very odd but if I say no to her---she will hate me more. I don't want my wife to hate me. Dammit , why did father had to do such a vile thing. I would have convinced her through my gifts and charm but no , he has to ruin everything!.'

"Of course , love. As you wish. And you will work here , totally your call. Come on , let's go." Aman took her on a tour and also to her dismay she had to make Fairoz meet other people. She hated every moment when her wife smiled and giggled with someone.

'That is meant for me!'

after that they came back to Aman's office, had some snacks, and in between that, Aman read her CV. She was indeed impressed with her girl. Such a hardworking pookie.

"So , Ms. Fairoz , what is your weakness. Sorry I had to ask this. HAHA!."

"Mhm. Well, weakness can make you stronger if you know how to overcome it, but what good would it do me if I revealed my weakness. Because to oneself weakness is their power but the moment someone else gets to know of it---they use it against you. So I refuse to answer such a stupid question."

"....."

Oh God. Control yourself and your thoughts Aman.

'Fuck, that was hot.'

Clearing her throat , Aman smirked. "Very well , love--

"Uh uh. Ms. Fairoz at the moment , not love. Ma'am."

'Okay, it's okay. Think of something else. God, ma'am. That word just did wonders to my senses. Am I going to be hearing this every day? Fuck, yes. Say it again, baby.'

"Hello?? Ma'am Aman. I think I should go now. You should work too." And before Aman could get out of her daze and stand up to stop her , or say something at least , Fairoz leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Have a good day at work. Bye."

"......bye..." What is happening? No, no. Wait, her eyes traveled to the contract on the table that Fairoz had just signed. An offer letter.

'What---no that was not I imagined. Why did I do it?! Oh my God. But how could I have said no? Maybe it is good...I mean...what? , I was fucking enjoying every second of it. But still ARGH! That means she won't be a housewife instead she would meet other people. That is disgusting. People are shitheads. No, no. Whatever, I will take care of this later. Let's get back to work right now.'

As a matter of fact. no. After marriage, Fairoz continued to work here and for Aman, it was as if it was a crime to say no to her wife well in some things Fairoz let her have some say. But Aman's lovestruck dumb brain didn't know it was just so Fairoz could let her feel some power and fuel her ego. To give her a sense of authority and shatter it in the next.

For example , fine Aman lets Fairoz go to meet her uncle but that is because Fairoz lets Aman choose the dress after all Fairoz asks in her best sweet voice.

Making Aman invest in her uncle's project, it's okay if Aman does not want to do it. Just go sleep in the guest room then and forget about even interacting with Fairoz because you are going to get ignored for weeks.

Fairoz cooks Aman's favorite dish on the condition that she makes her father apologize to Usama for his harsh words. Pretty lucrative deal for Aman if you ask me. I mean your soulmate's happiness in exchange for such petty requests? Bring them on!

But Aman still doesn't let go of her dark side too. If someone dares to bring a minute disturbance in her wife's life even if she is not aware of it, they get to face Aman. Prepare to get your whole life destroyed. For instance, after it was confirmed that she was married to the niece/daughter of Usama. Yes, people somehow found it out. What else do you expect from no-lifers? There was a mixed reaction. Thankfully there were almost near to zero information about Fairoz online, Usama did a great job at protecting his family's privacy, but still, people had their way of doing things. I mean who can escape from cameras in this age?. Anyway, some limits were crossed and so Aman had to cross some too. Nobody gets to spread goss or even get the right to comment anything near to bad about her wife. You are getting sued, baby. The plus point is that Fairoz doesn't even know about it because she developed a phobia of searching for herself or Aman's on the internet. After all, in her heart she knew she would stumble upon something distasteful so it better to avoid it in the first place, so her mind was in a good place---except for the fact she was now living with Aman. Albeit doing a good job at cooling Aman's controlling nature she was still amazed at her ability to be stubborn at times.

"Come on--baby , please. I would do anything."

"No. I am only 27."

"So? What does---isn't that like a reason to-

"Aman you are talking about a baby, not a go-kart." Aman cuddled Fairoz before she could get up from the couch. "Nah, I am not letting you run away, darling." Her voice made Farioz's whole chest vibrate.

"You are acting like one yourself , I don't think we need another one."

"Noooo----well this baby of yours will raise chaos if you don't give it another friend." Aman pouted and started to pepper kisses on her wife's face.

"Aman--Stop it!"

"I know---I hate babies--but of course, I have to have one. What about my bloodline? I promise to be a good parent. Babyyy---." She whined making Fairoz push her away aggressively.

" Is that supposed to make me feel better? What are the chances of you not hating your own?"

"..........50 , okay how about ..50.85 percent."

"......"

"AMAN!" The couple got startled by none other than Mr. Dogan.

"What utter shame have you brought on our family! Begging your wife? THAT TOO FOR A CHILD? Why do you even need her permission?? I might have not said this before but you really tarnished your ancestors and my name today. Your grandfather would have had a heart attack if he witnessed this now!." The couple stared at him silently. Fairoz spared a single glance at Aman which made the latter shiver more than her father's words, and then left the room stomping.

"SEE! Look how she behaves! And look at you! WOW! Sitting like she didn't just disrespect me just now!."

Aman had enough.

"FATHER! First of all this is a private matter and do I look like I give a damn about what grandfather would have thought?! This is not the 90's! Also---don't ever say anything about my wife like that. You ruined her mood."

'And now I will suffer . She won't feed me with her hands anymore. Life is soo not fair!.'

"I was so close to convincing her! You always ruin my plans! Leave us alone for once! Fizzy! My love!!." And just like that Aman sprinted upstairs leaving her father flabbergasted. What has she become? A woman of power acting like a dog.

'I should have never sided with her on this marriage.'

(AN: Lmao💀, love the turn this story took. Originally started as a dark fic and ended up being a crack and tbh loved writing it. Couldn't have thought of a better ending. Aman's ego really downsized, lol. Yanderes getting reversed uno is what I live to see👍)

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Erin's Crew

Use the time

A short, perhaps somewhat boring episode, but the next one will be longer and a little more impulsive.

The next morning started early for Chloe when she suddenly woke up from a nightmare. It consisted of images of people who had lost their lives to cannon shots or shrapnel, which was a trauma for her. Unfortunately, there was no psychologist on the base to talk to about it. Her gaze went over to Peter, who also seemed to be having a restless sleep.

She watched him for a while. He was dreaming badly and speaking unintelligible words that she quickly realized were his native language. She knew that you shouldn't necessarily stop someone who was dreaming, but it was as if he wouldn't come out on his own. “Peter? Hey,…” She shook him gently by the arm.

Chloe's actions didn't just wake Peter up. Roman got up from his bed quite angrily. “Tell me, are you stupid, Shearing? Why can't I sleep here in peace?"/ ‘I'm… I'm sorry…’/ ‘phh, I don't think so…’/ ”Don't get so excited, Cardona, okay? You can always lie down again…hh, thanks, Chloe,” Peter said, almost a little relieved…

Chloe walked around the bed again while Roman left the bedroom in a huff. “Don't worry, I'm absolutely not mad at you for waking me up, okay? I'm even grateful for it…"/ ‘Was it that bad, what you dreamt?’/ ”Not bad, more … disturbing… I sometimes dream about my father. Although I've never seen him alive…"/ ‘oh, o.k.’.

“Hh, sometimes dreams mean something… Maybe your father just wants to visit you"/ ”maybe, but still… It's disturbing. Tell me��� Would you like to go into town with me today? We could go to the park or maybe to the gallery?”. Chloe was surprised by his suggestion, but it suited her just fine. “mhm, I'd love to”.

About half an hour later, almost everyone met in the kitchen. Erin had gotten up early despite her relatively short night and was on her way to the coffee machine. “wow, you look great, Colonel"/ ”thank you. You're welcome to show yourself in normal clothes on your days off"/ ‘Oh, I've already gotten used to our work clothes, hn…’/ ‘Yeah, me too, and I don't have such great clothes’.…

“Is Mr. Swan up and about yet?” Erin asked a little hesitantly. “No, he's still hanging out somewhere in dreamland. Must have had a long night…” Roman said, almost provocatively. “Should I wake him?"/ ”No, let him sleep… Everyone here has more than earned a break. I still have a few things to catch up on, though.”.

There were plenty of tables in this room where everyone could have sat down. But it was nice to be in company. “Do you have anything nice planned for your day today?"/ ‘Peter… I mean, Mr. Lee and I, we wanted to go into town’/ ‘You don't have to be so formal today, Chloe’/ ‘hn, o.k.’ The team had known each other for a while now and so they were able to call each other by their first names.

As the comrades chatted at the table during the meal, Erin's thoughts were in a time when she herself was still one of the newcomers. She thought about her comrades and also her superior. These thoughts were quickly displaced by the newer ones that had taken root in her mind. The previous night with Diego. “Don't you agree, Colonel?"/ ‘hm, what?’.

“I was just saying to Mr. Lee that he should look around town for a nice girl. A bit of variety would certainly do him good…”. Peter just smiled. “I've got enough variety, really, and nice company too”. Roman looked alternately at Chloe and Peter for a moment… “um…if you say so”.

“Don't you want to go out among the people today, Colonel?"/ ”As I said, I still have some catching up to do here. I also want to see if all the weapons have been returned to storage"/ ‘Well, I've already handed mine in’/ ‘Yes, me too, everything in its place’/ ‘Good’… After Erin had finished her coffee and the others had finished eating, it was time to make good use of the day.

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

@greenplumbboblover ⭐

[ana-loss1234]

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

[asexualbuthorny]

I’m a background character but the villain’s mine pt.4

CW: abuse, mentions of starvation, toxic relationships, Mendella is very scared and nervous, reader is a simp, kneeling, begging, future smut

 To say that you were sweating would have been the understatement of the goddamn century. You honestly could fill a pool with the amount of moisture on you. Why were you so moist? Excellent question. It’s nothing big. It’s just that... YOUR LITERAL DREAM PERSON IS COMING TO YOUR HOUSE TO DISCUSS POSSIBLE MARRIAGE AND YOU WANTED THIS TO SUCCEED SO YOU COULD HOLD THEIR HAND AND MAYBE KISS. “My lord you should relax a little. How do you expect things to go smoothly with lord de Gregorian if you can’t say a word to him” Ilsith sighed as you sat on the sofa in you study. “Yeah relax. Easy for you to say. It’s not like the most perfect person in the world is coming- I mean he’s like a freaking god and next to him I look like a dirty ripped peace of cloth-” you complained as you tried not to pass out. While you were having a borderline panic attack you didn’t notice Camilla coming in with the guest of the fucking century. “...My lord, your guest has arrived...” . Fuck. Shit. Ok ok ok okokokokokokokokok. You can do this. “Ah lord de Gregorian, my apologies for not greeting you at the door. I lost track of time. Ilsith, Camilla, if you would.”. The pair quickly rushed out of the room to bring in tea and snacks for you and your “guest”. ‘I really hope he likes them’ you thought as you gazed at the treasure of this god forsaken kingdom. His golden hair and fur, his beautiful blue eyes, his sleek and elegant ears and tail. Truly Mendella de Gregorian was gods greatest achievement. “Oh where are my manners? Please, take a seat lord de-” “Just Mendella is fine. And thank you”. God his voice ‘hhhhnnnggggg’. You both sat down as drinks and treats were set down in front of you. “Well then. I know you don’t like to dawdle lord Mendella so let’s just get straight to business”....

      When (Name) wrote back agreeing to meet up for discussion of possible marriage Mendella almost passed out from the immense relief he felt. If he didn’t do something stupid and mess up he would finally be free and safe (as free and safe as he could get really). Once he informed his father of the news the man was obviously surprised that anyone would take his son. Afterall he wasn’t young and he was already engaged before but either way Lionas was a man of his word (when he wanted to be) so he let Mendella go meet the other lord. The father didn’t have many hopes and was honestly expecting his son to come back not having gained anything....

     When Mendella arrived at (Names) estate he was pleasantly surprised at the simplicity and borderline coziness of the place. It wasn’t too grandiose or overdecorated like his own home. Although the lord himself not coming to greet a distinguished guest soured Mendellas mood a little. Despite the ignoring of etiquette the omega wasn’t overly offended since he felt he had no right to feel that way considering his position. He stood around for a bit before a maid, smelling like an omega, came and after apologizing for the delay led him to where he would be meeting his hopefully future husband. The room he had been led to was simple but rather charming. The person who was, for all intents ad purposes, his savior sat on a comfortable looking couch looking like he was going to die. ‘Understandable. He’s meeting with me after all’. Shaking off the thought Mendella fully stepped into the room as the butler announced his arrival. Then the strangest thing happened... as soon as (Name) cast his eyes upon Mendella his ears perked up and his tail began to sway softly. The first words out oh the mans mouth were an apology for forgetting manners and an invitation to sit as he sent his butler and maid off to god knows where. They sat in silence for a while and Mendella took the time to fully take in the person before him. (Name) looked just as he was in the picture although, and Mendella was incredibly embarrassed to admit, he was way more charming. The lords ears were shorter and wider than his own and his tail was shorter but a lot more muscular. ‘He could probably crush someone with that’ Mendella thought with a barely noticeable gulp. His further thoughts were interrupted as tea and snacks were set down. The tea smelled great and the treats looked wonderful but a certain fear gripped at Mendellas heart. What if he thinks I’m a fatty? What if this is a test? Is this a test? Once again the omegas overthinking was interrupted by (Name) wanting to get right to business....

    You would be lying if you said that Mendella didn’t look scared right now. Was it something you said? Something you did? Just then you noticed him glancing at the snacks Ilsith had brought out. Damn. He didn’t like them! You were such an idiot! Shit you haven’t even started and you’re already messing up. Nice going dumbass. Your mental beating yourself came to an end as Mendella handed you a paper. “The marriage contract. Read it and from there we can adjust if you find something disagreeable”. The sun itself said as you started scanning the contract. The hell?!? This was literally mostly benefitting you! Isn’t Mendella supposed to get something from you as well? Well besides sharing your house and riches (literal dream come true btw). Your brows furrowed in confusion and before you knew what was happening Mendella threw himself in front of you on his knees with desperate tears in his eyes and fear on his perfect face. “Please! Please! You’re my only hope! I’ll-I’ll do anything! I’ll be anything you want! I can learn what you like just please give me a chance! I beg of you let me prove to you that marrying me is worth it!”. With that said he grabbed at the front of your pants and started trying to unbutton them. ‘AYO!!!???’....

   He fucked up...HE FUCKED IT ALL UP! The moment a frown appeared on your face Mendella knew he was failing. HE NEEDED YOU! You were his only hope! He had really hoped he wouldn’t have to this but if he could succeed in at least seducing you he could stay even if he was just a bed warmer to you Mendella needed you to agree to marry him. He couldn’t come back home with failure he couldn’t handle what would happen next. So he dove for your pants. Mendella knew what alphas liked...he had learned when he got engaged to the crown prince. He could do this. He could just float away until it was over....

   “Hey!-Hey stop! Wh-what are you doing!?”. You were not prepared for this outcome. In fact you were prepared for everything except this. As the frightened omega was clawing at your pants you saw his eyes get glossier and glossier as his sobbing quieted to hitched breaths and his hands got weaker and weaker. When he resorted to shoving his face into your crotch you finally gathered enough braincells to end this. “ENOUGH! Lord de Gregorian control yourself!” You grabbed Mendella by the shoulders and pushed him away from yourself. You kneeled on the ground to be on his level and started thinking of possible ways to calm him down. ‘Think asshole think! What calms distressed omegas down?’ Acting on impulse you grabbed the softly thrashing man and hugged him close. Mendella immediately burried his head into your shoulder and took several breaths of your scent. With that his struggling came to a stop. You decided to try something and started purring while softly stroking Mendellas ears as your own tail softly wraped itself around the two of you. “Are you okay lord Mendella?” you asked quietly and the omega tensed again. ‘Shit’ you thought as you held him a little tighter. “Please please I beg...” Mendella whispered against your neck as his tears wet your shirt. “Shhhhh it’s okay it’s okay” you tried to soothe. “Please don’t be angry. We can make the contract more in your favor just please don’t reject me yet” the omega pleaded again. ‘Wait...was this all because of the contract’. Realization hits you like a train. His previous fear and nervousness. He thought you were going to reject him when he saw you being confused! You were the fool of the century! “I wasn’t planning to reject you my lord. It’s just that-” “That what?” he interrupted you. That was good, he wasn’t as scared anymore. “It’s just that the contract was ONLY in my favor and I got a little confused is all”. Mendella pushed himself away from your hold, you already missing the contact, his eyes were wide and ears stood at attention. “You weren’t going to reject me? Truly?” “Yes. I agree to your proposal and ask you to marry me so please do me the honor of a lifetime and become my husband”. Mendella stared at you with wide eyes for a moment before clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his sleeve coming back to his usual self. “Very well lord (Lastname). I accept.” “Please just call me (Name)”. Mendella lightly blushed at your words before turning his head to the side and starting to get up from the floor. After he was standing steady you got up as well and the two of you went over to the table to sign the marriage document. “And with this our agreement is final. I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon future husband.” you said as you tried to smile reassuringly at Mendella who was staring at the piece of paper like it was gold. “A-ah. Yes yes we will. I will plan out all the other details so you can sit back and just let me handle the rest” he said while putting the papers away. “I will be returning to my home now. Thank you for your cooperation I will make sure this marriage is worth your time” “Haha~ yeah.....” .....

    Ilsith stood beside you as the both of you watched Mendellas carriage leave your territory. He looked over at you and froze...literal hearts and flowers floated around you as a dreamy and lovestruck look took over your face. ‘Our lord is really deep in it now’.....

[melanieathene]

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. :)