#and we’re fighting in the grocery store and I love you but I don’t know if I like you anymore

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Waiting for a scene where Buck and Eddie are discussing their dating woes at the station, and Buck jokes, “Maybe we should spare the Los Angeles population and just date each other.”

And while Eddie laughs it off, Hen swoops in to say, “No, I think you might be onto something.”

Eddie suddenly stops laughing as Buck goes, “Huh?”

“Why not just date each other?” Hen asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Chimney laughs, “Hell, you’re already practically a couple.”

And while Buck and Eddie stammer out no we’re not and it’s not like that. Chimney crosses his arms and looks at Buck. “What was it that you said to me and Maddie about how we were already a couple? Something about how ‘you always are talking and texting, you do karaoke together, you do buff-fridays together, and you finish each other’s sentences…’”

“You remember that with a shockingly high amount of detail,” Buck says to try to turn the conversation away from him.

“And Buck and I don’t do ‘Buff-Fridays’ together…”

“We do pasta and a movie with Chris,” Buck says, finishing Eddie’s sentence.

Hen and Chimney exchange a look.

Eddie frowns and says, “Okay, we do those things, but how are we any different from the two of you?”

Chimney deadpans, “When I first met Hen, I definitely didn’t want to sleep with her.”

“Hey! Maddie promised not to tell you that!”

“And she didn’t,” Chimney says with a smirk, “but you just confirmed my suspicions.”

Hen has the audacity to cackle while Buck and Eddie both shoot her a look which only spurs her on. She’s practically wheezing when she says, “You two are also practically co-parenting Christopher.”

“Which isn’t what people do when they’re dating. Sure, they can love my kid, but they can’t parent them. Now Buck is my best friend so he… he can… give him advice and help out…” Eddie argues weakly while Buck’s heart skips a beat because Eddie just practically said yes, Buck is a parent to Chris.

Finally Bobby joins the conversation to add, “You’re right. People who are casually dating usually don’t coparent a child. But people who are married do.”

This sends Chimney and Hen cackling while they gasp, “Oh my god. You guys aren’t just dating. You’re married.”

And before Eddie or Buck can argue with them, Ravi innocently asks, “But you guys broke up for a reason, right? I know you guys work great together, but getting back with your ex is usually a bad idea.”

Everyone just stares at him as Eddie defensively asks, “Since when did we ever date?”

And Ravi’s jaw drops as he answers, “I mean. When I joined the one-eighteen everyone said it was better to stay out of the whole Buck and Eddie thing and not ask questions. And someone told me about this fight in the middle of a grocery store which I thought meant a breakup but… oh god.”

Of course, Buck and Eddie can’t get a single word in as Hen, Chimney, and even Bobby start laughing as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. The only thing that gets them to stop is when the bell rings, but even on the ride over, everyone - except Buck and Eddie - seem to have the giggles.

After the call, which is just a minor fender bender, everyone thankfully takes the advice given to Ravi and gives Buck and Eddie some space. But for the rest of the shift, the two just kind of stew in silence with their own thoughts.

At the end of the shift, everyone fleas from the locker area so Buck and Eddie are left alone. And after a few moments of torturous silence, Buck finally asks, “Why aren’t we dating?”

“Buck.”

“I mean they’re right. We’ve practically been dating this whole time - married even - just without the… physical stuff.”

Eddie just shrugs. “Physical stuff has ruined every relationship I’ve ever had.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“But it has.” Eddie emphasizes his point by harshly shutting his locker and turning to Buck. “Why should I risk what you have with Chris - what you have with me - just for sex?”

“Because maybe it’s worth the risk. And maybe it wouldn’t be just sex. Eddie, you already have me. More than anyone else ever has. So why not date?”

“Buck…” Eddie trails off, endless emotions in that name.

Buck pushes on, stepping closer to him, “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t try. And if you can’t give me a valid reason, then let me take you on a date.” Buck smiles softly. “I mean, we were already planning on getting breakfast in the morning. But this time I could pick you up and maybe hold your hand at the tabl-”

“Evan,” Eddie finally says which makes Buck’s heart drop. “Just… give me some time to think about it, okay?”

And Buck nods and holds his hands up while backing away. “Got it. Sorry for pushing. We can pretend it was a joke.” He tries not to look the way he feels - absolutely heartbroken.

Eddie just gives him a weak smile and grabs his things before heading toward the door only to stop in his tracks and walk to Buck. “Hey.”

Buck glances up at him, searching his expression for something.

Eddie grabs his shoulder, thumb resting above his collarbone. “We’re still good for breakfast tomorrow?”

Buck smiles and nods. “Yeah. Always.”

“Good,” Eddie states, lingering in the moment before his thumb moves slightly, caressing Buck’s collarbone for a moment before he steps away and leaves without another word.

Buck watches as he goes, placing his hand over where Eddie’s was. He can’t help but wonder if Eddie was testing the waters with that swipe of his thumb or trying to soothe Buck in his own way.

It’s only a few hours later when Buck can’t sleep that his phone lights up with a message from Eddie.

Let’s make it a date.

[formulawolff]

vii. the in-between - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 5.2k

warnings: buckle up y’all cause we go. angst, cursing, size kink, edging, praise kink, FUCKING, LOTS OF FUCKING. toto being a simp, banter, yearning, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol use, creampie, teasing, yadayadayada… y’all know what’s about to go down

prev. | next.

“it’s fine, mom. really.” 

bringing a hand to your temple, you begin to massage, attempting to alleviate the accumulated pressure. 

“i mean, yeah, i’m not in trouble or anything. as far as i know, the fia is letting me race in suzuka. it was my first offense so they dropped the investigation. as long as i publicly apologize for my actions, everything will be cleared up.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

do you know how many people have asked me about you? baby, people approach me at the goddamn grocery store asking me why you beat up that poor little british boy! he’s built like a twig for god’s sake! 

rolling your eyes, you lean back in your chair, keeping the phone pressed against your ear, “mom, his name is george russell. he drives for mercedes. he’s not some little boy.” 

all right, all right. well maybe he needs to come over for some dinner or something. get some meat on those bones. anyway, did i tell you that your father has been scouring ebay trying to purchase sports cards with your car on it? well, he’s found ones with you on them too. he wants to make a booklet of his favorite kiddo. 

with that discovery, your heart swells, “is he really? tell him to look up topps chrome cards. those are the best ones. since i’m not as popular as max or lewis, they should be pretty cheap. and mom, i’m your only kiddo.” 

that’s why we’re so proud of you. even if you get into fist fights, we still love you bunches. when do you think you’ll come home? your dad wants to take you out in his baby. he’s made some modifications to it. he thinks you’ll appreciate it more than i will. 

“where is dad? is he asleep?” 

yes honey. he’s asleep. snoring away on the couch with the dogs. i wish we could give you a taste of home somehow. maybe i could have a care package sent to japan? 

“mom,” you exhale, “that would be so much money. don’t worry about it. were you guys considering flying out for miami?” 

oh yes, about that! you perk up in your chair, anticipating your mom’s response. we are going to be there. we can’t wait to see you. we miss you so much. it’s so quiet when you’re not home. will i be able to meet some of your coworkers? 

letting you a giggle, you shake your head, “mom. they’re my fellow drivers. we’re not coworkers. but yeah, i could probably introduce you to a few of them. daniel wants to meet you two.” 

what about that handsome fellow with the bright blue eyes? he drives for redbull! and yes, i would love to meet daniel. 

“max verstappen?” you arch a brow, “we’d have to see about that one. he’s a very busy man.” 

okay, okay. the line cuts out briefly. hey honey, i think i need to head to bed. i love you so much. keep in touch, okay? we’ll see you in a few short weeks. 

nibbling on your lower lip, you nod, “i love you too, mom. tell dad i love him. i miss you guys. i can’t wait to see you.” 

me either. goodnight honey, or good morning or afternoon or whatever time it is over there. i’ll text you when i wake up! love you. 

“love you,” your lip trembles, hands clamming up as you the line goes silent. 

fuck, were you homesick. 

you just had to make it a few more weeks. then, you could finally reunite with your parents in miami. although you knew you would be so fucking busy, you would make time. 

you always did when it came to your parents. 

also, you had another plan brewing as you scroll through your contact list, searching for a certain dutch assassin. a certain dutch man who happened to be a three-time world champion. 

somehow, someway, your mom was going to meet max verstappen. 

you had to make that happen. 

you had to. 

currently, you were sitting on the edge of a bed in a suite in london, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your driver. a decently-sized suitcase sat near the door, a carry-on stacked on top. 

this driver was provided specific instructions to transport you from london to brackley, dropping you off at the door of a certain team principal’s home. 

yet, you were well aware that it wasn’t going to be just any old home. 

this man was billionaire, after all. 

buzzing in your grasp, your phone notifies you of a new text. 

from none other than toto wolff. 

the driver is on the elevator, heading up towards your suite. DO NOT handle your bags. he will do that for you. i don’t want you to fuss over a single thing. from there, he will bring you here, where he will punch in the code for the gate. i will be waiting for you at the door. 

i can’t wait to see you, schatzi. i miss your beautiful face and sweet laughter. 

oh, and i can’t wait to kiss you. 

(and yes, i am pacing around in my office as i type this. i can’t focus on anything else but your arrival) 

with sazuka quickly approaching next week, you would only have a couple of days with the team principal before you had to part ways. he would have prep, meetings, press, where he would then fly out to sazuka. meanwhile, you would have to catch a flight, meet with your team, prep, and potentially meet with press, fans, and the other drivers. 

additionally, you had to address the incident that occurred last week at the australian grand prix. to your surprise, the fia had dismissed the investigation, finding no substantial evidence that the two of you needed to be punished. due to the nature of the accident, george was not punished, as he did no illegal maneuvers or intentionally attempted to take you out of the race. 

on the other hand, the fia was adamant that if this happened again, you were going to face consequences. you would have to shell out a pretty penny for fines, and then you would be immediately disqualified from three future races, deeming you unable to participate.

although they were merciful, the fia made it very clear that since it was your first offense, they were going to be fair.. 

however, if there was a next time, they would not be so kind. 

a crisp knock rang out, startling you. 

springing to your feet, you open the door, an older man smiling in greeting. 

“you must be golden girl,” sticking out his right hand, he dips his head, “i’m theodore. i’ll be your driver to brackley this evening. i am here to not only be your escort, but to tend to anything you may need. mr. wolff made it very clear that you were not to fret over a single thing.”

“good morning,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile as you shake his hand, “thank you. i’m eager to see the english countryside.”

“i’ll handle your bags ma’am,” theodore clears his throat, “you just take it easy.”

“will do,” you nod, “how long is the drive?”

“about an hour and a half,” theodore responds curtly, slinging your carry-on around his shoulder, “don’t worry, it’s not too boring. follow me this way, my lady. our chariot awaits!”

following him down the hall, he presses the button for the elevator. there’s a silence between you, but not an uncomfortable one. theodore’s presence was warm, inviting even.

upon meeting him, you understood why he was toto’s right-hand driver. once he escorted you to the car, he opens the door for you, ushering you inside. when you settle into the backseat, you notice the glint of a redbull can, along with your favorite snacks and candy. 

“mr. wolff wanted to ensure you wouldn’t be hungry,” theodore states as he climbs into the driver’s seat, pressing the button for the ignition, “he told me that you can be a little cranky if you don’t have any snacks.”

“oh? he said that?” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “did he say anything else about me?”

“oh yes,” theodore chuckles, turning the gear shift, “he’s told me all about you. to be quite frank, he hasn’t shut up about you the last week or so.”

“so you know who i am?”

“of course i do,” theodore nods, flashing you a grin in the rearview mirror, “you’re one of the best formula one drivers on the grid. you drive for williams racing. you’ve only won one grand prix, but i believe you’ll win a few more this season. your hometown is in yuma, arizona. you’re twenty-two years old, and from what toto has shared with me, you have a very bright future ahead.”

“are you a formula one fan?” you arch a brow, punching open the can of redbull. 

“who isn’t?” he shrugs, “well, ms. golden girl, we are going to begin our journey. if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to speak up. if you’d like, you can tell me a little bit more about yourself. we will have plenty of time.”

as theodore promised, the drive to brackley was painless. yet, as the car pulls up to the gate, your heart skips a beat.

this was no quaint english cottage.

toto’s brackley residence was a sleek and sprawling two-story home, a black and white exterior with massive, thick windows. your jaw almost drops, and theodore notices, letting out a hearty laugh, “don’t act so shocked, golden girl. i’m sure you’re aware toto is a very wealthy man.”

“i thought he would have kept things somewhat simple.”

“oh love,” theodore shakes his head, “you and i both know that toto is anything but simple.”

rolling down the window, theodore punches in a code, the gate sliding open. as the car lurches up the drive, your heart thumps in your rib-cage, blood roaring in your ears. 

this was really happening. 

you were really staying with toto. 

“nervous?” theodore senses the shift in energy, “you have no reason to be nervous. he’s been anticipating your arrival. he’ll be happy to see you.”

“thank you,” you manage to muster a meek smile, “i-i just didn’t think we would get this far.”

“well savor the time together. time flies, especially in our world. one day you’re at a track, the next you’re in another country. he adores you, golden girl. so don’t you fret about that. just relax, and enjoy your time. i will be here in a couple of days to bring you to the airport for your departure to sazuka.” 

“thank you,” at his words, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “i look forward to our next drive together!”

“as do i,” shifting the gears, theodore puts the car in park, slipping out of the driver’s seat, “we have arrived. let me get your bags.”

he strolls over to your door, opening it as you clamber out, stretching your sore legs.

no matter how much time you spent in a car, there was always that persisting stiffness. 

you’d probably need a double-knee replacement by the time you were forty, but that was the least of your worries. 

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure strolling towards the car. with the large stature, you knew it could only be one particular individual. 

he’s dressed in a royal blue button-up, paired with khaki slacks. on his feet are earth-toned dress shoes. the blue hue of the button-up complements his dark hair, almost brightening his features, giving them a youthful glow. tufts of his hair are all over as the wind blows. 

yet, he looks as gorgeous as ever, his toned muscles rippling under the thin fabric of the button-up. 

“welcome to brackley schatzi,” the grin enveloping his face is radiant, “i hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“not at all,” you shake your head, the team principal nearly sucking the wind out of your lungs as he wraps his arms around you, squishing you against his chest. 

“i missed you so much,” tender lips connect with your cheek, “good afternoon, theo! did she behave herself?”

“of course,” theodore promptly places your bag next to the entrance, suitcase in tow, “i have another commitment here soon, mr. wolff. i hope it is all right i placed her bags next to the door?” 

“don’t worry about it,” toto’s fingers find yours, intertwining them together, “i’ll get them. please drive safe, theo.”

“i will, mr. wolff,” theodore dips his head, turning to you, he takes your hand, shaking it, “it was lovely to meet you. i look forward to our next meeting, golden girl. enjoy your time together, you two!”

“we will,” toto squeezes your hand, “goodbye, theo.”

“goodbye, mr. wolff!” theodore spins on his heel, making his way to the car, “behave, you two!”

in response, toto gives a thumbs up, theodore slipping back into the driver’s seat. as he peels off, toto shifts his body, facing you.

“charming, isn’t he?”

“he’s great! kept me entertained the whole drive!”

“i told him you have a short attention span so to keep you occupied,” toto shooks you a wink, earning an eye roll. 

“i can’t stand you.”

“you’re standing right now, aren’t you?” his chuckle is light, “come, let’s head on in. i have lunch waiting for us.”

“you made me lunch?” 

“yes, i’m going to drive you all the way out here just so starve you,” he scoffs, yet his tone says otherwise, “i have food ready. and wine, if you want some.”

“don’t tell me you want to get me drunk so i’ll confess all my secrets.”

“consider that my new goal for the afternoon,” toto grabs your bag, along with your suitcase. pushing open the door, he clears his throat, “welcome to my home away from home.”

as you step in the entrance, your eyes widen, lips parting.  

the space was truly a reflection of toto. refined and elegant, with a hints of charm. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, rays of sun shining through the vast windows. the walls were covered in a menagerie of decor, from pieces of art to mercedes memorabilia. it was not the typical billionaire’s home, where the air felt sterile and cold. 

this place was warm and full of life, coaxing you to stay. 

“cat got your tongue?” his breath fans against your ear, a hand gliding along your back, “follow me, schatzi.”

“your home is beautiful.”

glancing over his shoulder, you are met with his gorgeous smile, dimples and all, “thank you, love. i’m glad you like it.”

trailing behind the austrian, you stroll down a long hallway, turning into the last room on the left. toto places your bag and suitcase next to a glass door, “this is my bedroom. you’ll be staying here with me.”

“straight to the bedroom huh?” you fold your arms across your chest, teasing, “you just couldn’t wait–”

“come here,” toto growls, hands grasping your wrists, bringing you in, “no, i can’t wait.”

looking up, you match his gaze, cocking your head, “what are you going to do about it?”

at your rebuttal, toto’s eyes narrow, “what do you think i’m going to do?”

“fuck me.”

“hmmmm,” he hums, leaning in, “you’re right, schatzi. i am going to fuck you. i’m going to fuck you till you’re weeping me for me to stop.”

“weeping?” your hands roam, tugging on his button-up, “i’d like to see you try.”

“oh schatzi,” he tsks, “you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“show me then.”

“i will,” lips ghost over yours, “i’ll show you how badly i missed you baby.”

as he kisses you, it’s tender at first, brimmed with the sweetness of reunion. one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck, tilting your head back as his tongue gains access to your mouth, the tang of redbull tracing your mouth. yet, as you whimper, a fiery hunger sets ablaze.

fuck, he missed you. 

he missed you more than he liked to admit.

tension hangs thick, clouding the space as his mouth places sloppy, wet kisses down your jawline, finding your neck. nipping gently, it takes every fiber in his being to resist the urge to just mark you all over. to leave marks where they could see. to make them wonder who was doing this to you.

but he couldn’t. not there. 

in response, your hips buck forward, grinding against his. toto groans, his head rolling back. 

there was not a single coherent thought in his mind. 

only lust. and fuck, was it consuming him whole. 

scooping you into his arms, he brings you over to the bed, your back meeting with the plush mattress. 

“i can’t wait,” he pants, chest heaving, “i can’t wait any longer. i need you.”

“then take me,” your words drip like honey, oh so sweet, “make me yours, toto.”

jesus fucking christ.

he was going to fuck the shit out of you. right here, right now.

there was no going back. 

he ached for it. he yearned for it. the fantasy flooded his dreams at night.

the things he wanted to do to you? 

downright filthy. sinful, even 

he couldn’t lose his inhibitions. not yet. he had to hang on. 

however, at this point, toto was hanging on by a thread. 

peeling your leggings and panties off, he tosses them to the floor, “sit up.”

you obey, nearly trembling with anticipation as fingertips hook the hem of your crewneck, pulling it over your head. nimbly, he hovers over you, finding the clasps of your bra. he undoes them, a crimson hue dusting his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you completely naked beneath him. 

god, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

every inch of you was stunning. every scar. every mole. every freckle. every stretch mark. 

you were so fucking beautiful. 

his hands fly to his button-up, eager for what was to come. 

yet, your hands find his, “let me.”

toto bites his tongue as you carefully undo the buttons of his shirt, his cock twitching, aching for your touch as your fingers delve towards his belt. you unbuckle it, tilting your head back, batting your thick lashes.

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

could this moment last forever? 

“toto.”

“yes?”

“i-i don’t know if i can take it all,” there’s apprehension inflected in your tone, almost as if you were embarrassed, “to be honest, i’ve never–”

oh god. 

this was going to ruin him.

just like he was going to ruin you.

“don’t worry,” a tender hand cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “i’ll go slow. i won’t make you take it all. i’ll take care of you baby, i promise.”

you nod, lips pursed as you tug on his slacks, hooking the hem of his boxers, “you’re just so fucking big. like holy shit.”

pride swells within the austrian for a moment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, “i promise you that it’s not as big as you think.”

“can i see for myself?” the question is so innocent, so pure. 

yeah, he was going to ruin you.

he was going to make a mess out of you. 

“lay down schatzi,” he orders, authority oozing into the words. 

kicking off his slacks, he curses slightly as his boxers stick around one of his ankles. this wasn’t going to be perfect, but he wanted it to be. for you. 

he wanted this to be a moment you remembered for the rest of your life. he wanted this memory to fill your thoughts every second of every day. he wanted you to touch yourself to this, desperate and oh so wet, throbbing for him. yearning for his mouth. for his touch. for him.

carefully, he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. as you look down, you can feel his gaze searing into you, burning right through. 

his cock was far bigger than your fantasies. it was thick, approximately eight or nine inches. you couldn’t tell. his tip was tinged pink, the glisten of precum catching in the light. veins wrapped around the length, throbbing as your hand wrapped around its base.

“fuck,” as he moans, you lick your lips, realizing how much you loved the sound that just filled your ears, “let me feel you, please.”

“please toto.”

swallowing thickly, he inhales sharply as he positions his tip at your entrance. applying pressure, a whimper rings out as he pushes in, your walls stretching. 

your pussy was heaven. absolutely perfect as it wrapped around his cock, begging for more as he pushed further and further. you were absolutely drenched, the juices slick and oh so sickeningly sweet. he didn’t even have to taste you to know. he just knew you were sweet. like pure ambrosia. 

perhaps he could get a taste.

“toto,” your lashes flutter, his name so perfect from your lips, “you feel–”

“your pussy is perfect,” he finds a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of your tight hole, “absolutely perfect baby. fuck, you’re perfect.”

skin connects with skin, the temperature of the room elevated as his hands found yours, pinning them to the bed. lips collide, the kisses desperate, hungry and bursting with need. as he picks up the pace, moans fill his mouth. 

fuck, it felt like he was going to split you into two. 

“t-toto,” there it was again, his name. music to his ears.

“yes baby?” a sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, tufts of hair dampened, “what is it? does it hurt? do you need me to slow down?”

“no. fuck me. just fuck me.”

oh god. 

oh, fuck. 

his cock twitches, the pleasure building in your abdomen as the tip brushes your g-spot, back arching, begging to be closer. closer to him.

could you be any closer to him in this moment? was it even possible?

before you know it, his arms wrap around your frame, picking you up off the mattress. he holds you close to his chest, one hand holding your head, cupping the back of your skull. the other remains on your lower back, gripping you tightly as the new angle sends bliss rippling all throughout your body.

he fucks you, and god there was no holding back. his cock was pounding into you now, showing no mercy. your ass slaps against his thighs, filthy noises flooding the space. 

as you bounce, you tense, your walls practically squeezing him, “toto, oh my god, i’m going–”

“good girl,” his coos, “be a good girl, baby. cum for me.”

as you get closer and closer, toto watches. fuck, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly. the way hairs clung to your forehead. the way your lashes fluttered. all he could see was pleasure. pure, intense pleasure. 

you unravel, coming undone. 

that sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“come here,” toto hisses through gritted teeth, “come here baby.”

the moment his lips mold with yours, you feel his cock throb, pumping threads of cum into your weeping hole. your muscles spasm, shuddering as he pulls out. 

the two of you study one another for a moment, catching your breath. fingertips brush stray hairs from your temple. 

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” you nuzzle into his collarbone, relishing the way his cologne lingered, mixing with his natural scent. 

“going too far.”

“that was not too far.”

tenderly, the austrian pulls you down with him, letting out a sigh as his head hits the pillow. your head remains against his chest, admiring the definition and tone for a moment. he peppers kisses along your forehead, browbone, and cheeks. 

“if i ever go too far, let me know.”

“i think we’re both in too deep,” you murmur, “you’re lucky you had the blinds drawn.” 

“that would be something,” his chest vibrates as he speaks, “could you imagine? some random mercedes intern witnessing the team principal fucking the most beautiful woman on the planet?”

however, a gleam catches your eye.

on his left ring finger, your heart sinks as you notice the ring. 

his wedding band.

toto senses your silence, the way you tensed up against him, “what is it schatzi?”

“why are you still wearing your wedding band?”

oh, so you had noticed.

“it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” your voice falters as you prop yourself up with your elbow so you could meet his gaze, “you’re wearing your fucking wedding ring. it’s not that complicated.”

“yes, i am, wearing my ring,” he exhales, “would you prefer me to take it off? it has no meaning anymore. susie and i are divorced. we finalized it last december. when we signed the papers, we made a mutual agreement to wear our wedding bands when we were in the public eye. it keeps the speculations at bay. it’s mostly for the sake of my children. and for her sake. we respect one another and i would hate for her hard work to be diminished by rumors and gossip.”

although his words were sincere, your heart races still, anxiety a swirling torrent in your stomach, “how long have you been separated?”

“almost three years. we separated in july of 2021.” 

“oh,” you suck in a breath, shame washing over you, “i-i’m sorry for the sudden questions. i just–”

“it would complicate your feelings for me. and no one wants too mess around with a married man. i get it baby, i really do.”

although he provided a very base-level explanation of his failed marriage, toto was more than willing to go into more depth. that is, if you wanted. more than anything, he wanted you to know. that aspect was becoming increasingly frustrating, as the team principal tried to maintain that dominant, bold, persona.

you were making him weak. his little soft spot. 

well, not so little these days. 

“i cannot stand how well you read me,” rolling your eyes, you turn your back to him.

“don’t turn your back on me now,” he tsks, “do you believe me, schatzi?”

“i don’t think you could ever lie to me.”

“i couldn’t,” toto leans over, placing soft kisses all over your shoulders, “i think it would destroy me. the guilt would be too much to bear.”

“if we’re spilling secrets now,” you roll over, face-to-face once again, “i have another question for you.”

“all right.”

“why did you approach james about my contract behind my back?” 

for once, the team principal is caught by surprise, his heart skipping a beat. 

the hurt plastered across your features is clear, your brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. there’s a glimmer of anguish in their depths, slightly glossy from the threat of tears. 

“i wanted to gauge how he felt if you were to leave williams,” that was the truth, really, no other intentions behind it, “he was not too keen to discuss it, but i just wanted to know how upset he would be if you were to sign with another team. i did it for you, to soften the blow.”

“soften the blow?”

“yes,” toto nods, “to soften the blow when you tell him you’re leaving williams and signing with mercedes.”

“you don’t know that for–”

“but i do,” his voice hardens, “i do know. we can’t just lay here and deny that in your heart, you want to be with me at mercedes. you’ve made the decision already. you just haven’t figured out how you’re going to approach james, alex, or your team.”

biting your tongue, you turn your head, averting his gaze.

toto was right. you had made your decision. 

it was just a matter of time before you had to face the facts. 

“i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“you are,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut, “i-i just don’t know how to tell everyone. i don’t know how to tell my parents. i don’t know how to bring it up to james. it’s just so.. fuck. it’s so fucking overwhelming to think about.”

“then let me help you.”

“how?” you inquire, “how would you possibly do that?”

“i’ll keep my distance from here on out, but i will help you draft up a letter that you can give to james. or, i can help you practice what you’re going to say. just let me help you schatzi,” fingers grasp your chin, turning your head. 

“you hear me? i’ll help you.”

“can we just worry about it later?” 

“of course,” strong arms envelop your frame, drawing you in against his body, “for now, we can snuggle. would you like that?”

“i would.”

your tough exterior completely crumbles as his mouth hovers by your ear, murmuring words in german. desperately, you ache to know what he said. was it something important? or just sweet nothings? 

sometimes he was a difficult man to decipher.

“hey, have you opened that gift yet? the one i brought to you in jeddah?”

“no,” you admit, heat billowing into your cheeks, “i have a hard time accepting gifts.”

“clearly.”

before you can respond, he’s up from the bed, strolling over to your bags. unzipping your carry-on, he searches for that parcel. fishing it out of your bag, he sets in on the bed, sliding on his boxers before plopping it in front of you.

“open it. right now.”

“right now?” you echo, “toto, i–”

“open it.”

“fine,” nimbly, your fingers untie the bow, peeling away the wrapper. 

underneath the paper, there is a tiny velvet box. it’s long and slender, rectangular in shape.

“what is this?”

“open it and you’ll know,” toto urges, following your every move, anticipating your reaction.

opening the box, your heart swells at the sight before you.

it’s a bracelet, a dainty figaro chain, complete with a charm. the charm is an outline of the saudi arabian track. picking it up, you inspect it, noticing a date engraved on the backside of the charm. 

“how were you able to get this so quickly after the race?” 

“i have my ways,” toto bears a sheepish grin, “do you like it?”

“like it? i love it.”

well, you didn’t love it. you fucking adored it. it was perfect, and so you. it was something that you could wear everyday, a constant reminder of the years of effort to get you here. not to mention it was gorgeous, the chain shiny, freshly polished. 

a hand reaches out, plucking the chain from the box. his brows are knit together with concentration as he slips the chain around your wrist, ensuring it’s safely clasped.

“i figured it would be something you could always wear. a reminder of when you made history.”

“it’s beautiful,” sitting up, you shift your weight to your knees as you wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you, toto.”

“always, schatzi. don’t worry, i will always spoil you.”

as toto nuzzles into the crook of your neck, he was well aware of one thing.

you had made your decision. 

you hadn’t outright said it, but he knew you made your decision. 

you would be signing to mercedes for the 2025 season. 

you were finally going to be by his side every day. 

there was no more in-between. no more will she or won’t she. no more nights of him lying awake, wondering where you stood. no more driving himself insane pondering all of the possibilities that could unravel. 

he had you. 

you were all his now. 

and god, did that leave such a sweet taste in his mouth. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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if i missed anyone, please let me know! also, you are more than welcome to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

[smokeysweater]

Masterlist It had been a good arrangement so far. You and John I mean, it had been pretty comfortable since you originally applied for the ad, it still baffled you that nobody else wanted this, 250 pounds every two weeks, to live in a nice house in the gorgeous countryside, with a roommate who is barely here. Even when John is here, he’s civil and nice. Doesn’t talk to you unless needed, using the sweetest of nicknames when he does as well. ” hey sweetheart, I’m about to run to the grocery store, ya need anything?” ”let me just squeeze right past you, doll” ” Thanks for the dinner love, it's delicious as always.” His voice, that deep, smooth British tone mixed with the most knee-dropping nicknames, it’s a wonder how you’ve survived this long with him invading your mind every time you go to bed. so it was a good thing you two had going on, he left for months on end, leaving you with the house you barely paid rent for, you’ve seen the bill, you know it’s not 250 pounds, that barely scraps it. You’ve tried confronting him about it, but he just hit you right back with a “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, just let me handle it.” …yeah you didn’t fight back against that one. honestly, before you realise it, three years have passed, 3 nice years of having a giant, beautiful house in the countryside all by yourself with a sometimes roommate and only paying dirt for rent, and you might be the luckiest person you know. it had occurred to you one day however, since it had been three years since you’ve started living with John, or as you’ve heard some people call him, Captain Price, that you two were common law.So, you thought it was at least a little funny, so you brought it up one day. You had been waiting for a week when he was home, it had been a bit since he got back, you decided now would be the moment to tell him, with you two sitting at the dining table eating a dinner John had prepared for you two The utensil’s that clattered and Clinked against the plates filled the mostly silent room, there was no tension against you two, just happy to let the quiet fill the air, so you took this as an oppuritinty to tell the older man.  “Hey John,” you spoke, prompting him to look up, baby blue eyes peering up at you, threatening to still your very being. “You know, since it’s been three years since we’ve lived together, we’re technically in a common law marriage now, funny right? I mean you're barely here but the kingdom decides we’re ‘married’” You chuckled, putting air quotations at the married part, you didn’t look Price in the eyes when you said this, focusing on the plate in front of you. so you were unable to see the way his eyes darkened, how his knuckles seemed to whiten with how tightly he gripped his knife and fork. His breathing silently froze for a moment, but the moment you looked back up again, he went back to normal, as if to hide what motions exactly ran through him like a fright train. ” that so?.. spouse we should do something to celebrate, huh doll?” Price asked, in the hushed velvety tone he always carried when talking to you. you shrugged, uncaring. “I mean, we don’t have to, I don’t think it matters, we’re not married.” You reminded Price casually, too preoccupied to see the way Price twitched at that.

”I suppose not.” He mumbled back.

That small moment set off a chain of events that would change your relationship for the better or worse.

the next morning, you felt stranger than usual, it felt.. weird, and wrong. But, naive ol’ you, shrugged it off, getting up for the day, but when you looked down at you beside the table to grab your phone, you noticed something. curiously, you picked up a ring, a pretty little thing, the red gem glinting bright in the Sun, the silver band attached to it feeling smooth and cool against your skin. next to it, was a small note. ’Hey sweetheart. Had to leave early, I’ll be back, I promise, I got you something for Our marriage, Hope you like it. Be back soon To Mx Price. Love, John Price’ what the fuck.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Pool noodles || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Latch - Disclosure, Sam Smith

Jack Hughes x Reader

Synopsis: A trip to the local grocery store to stock up on food and other necessities, turns into a play fight with foam sticks.

Word count: 1.002

Masterlist

A little different from my usual fandoms that I write in. But I wanted to dabble a little in here since I wanted to write a little for my favourite hockey boys :)

You and Jack are on a mission. It’s off-season, meaning it’s time to relax and recharge during the long summer and spend some good quality time together. In previous years you would always go to the family’s lake house, to spend some time with family and friends. This year it won’t be any different. Except this time, you’ll be there together with Jack a lot earlier than the others. They’ll be arriving a few weeks later. This means you get Hughes Michigan’s summer home for yourselves. At first, it seems like a great thing. You get to spend time alone with Jack, without any nosy brothers or friends to tease you both. That was until you looked in the fridge, almost completely empty. Clearly whoever’s been here last hasn’t refilled the fridge, or other necessities for that matter. Which leaves that task to the two of you, much to Jack’s dismay.

You find yourself at the local grocery store. Jack’s pushing the cart like the gentleman he is. Except, he’s slouched over as he pushes it. “Are we done yet?” You don’t even know how many times you’ve heard him utter that in the past 15 minutes. You sigh as you look at the grocery list you’ve made on your phone. “Jack. I love you, but please. You’re worse than a cranky hormonal teenager.” You retort. He looks at you, almost as if he’s offended by what you said. “I’m not a cranky hormonal teenager.” He mutters under his breath. You bite back a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say hon.” You quip while you put the last of the fruits and vegetables in the shopping cart. He opens his mouth, probably to say something full of sass back. You shush him by placing your finger over his lips. “Come on. We’re done here.” He huffs in response. “Finally.” He mumbles. You give him a pointed look before moving on to the next part of your shopping list. You walk over to the meats and fish. Jack trails behind you, begrudgingly pushing the cart.

You glance over the various fish and meats they have. “What do you want to eat for the time being?” He points to the steak, chicken, and salmon. You nod, pick a few that look good, and toss them into the cart. He groans when he sees it messes up the organized cart. “Baby, please. Everything has a place in the cart. You know this.” He scolds lightly while fixing the mess you made. You grin sheepishly. “Sorry sorry, won’t do it again.” He shakes his head but smiles. You both know this won’t be the last time, not by a long shot.

You cross off meat and fish on the list and make your way to the dairy products. While you grab a carton of milk, Jack grabs some yogurt and puts it neatly in the cart. He takes the carton of milk from you and puts it next to the yogurt. You grab some eggs that lie nearby and move on to get the rest of the list.

You stock up on some toilet paper and other necessities. You also remember to grab some pretzels for him, knowing he likes to snack on them. Jack’s still trailing behind you with the cart that’s gradually getting fuller. As you walk around like a busy bee, you walk past some pool noodles. You look at them for a solid minute. Jack raises an eyebrow. “Do you want them?” He asks curiously. You think about it for a moment. You grab one and look it up and down. You glance over at Jack. Without warning, you smack his arm with it. It doesn’t hurt, it’s made out of foam. He flinches and rubs his arm. “What was that for?” He asks. You shrug and smirk. “Just wanted to test it out.” He scoffs and laughs. “Really? Just wanted to test it out?” He repeats. He grabs one as well and hits you back. He smirks, “it does work well. Don’t you think?” He teases you. You roll your eyes but smile. You swing to hit him again. He blocks it with his own noodle. You’re locked into a stare-down with him. “Noodle fight?” You challenge him. “Noodle fight.” He takes the bait. You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you both. When you see no one’s looking at you, all hell breaks loose.

You start relentlessly swinging. He blocks most of your ‘attacks’, even if they hit, he doesn’t feel a thing. The aisle gets filled with your combined laughter and the faint sound of foam being smacked around.

He gets a few good hits on you. Your face scrunches up every time he lands one on you. His heart melts at the sight of you. You could be doing the most mundane tasks together, yet you’ll still find a way to bring a smile to his face. You know how to make doing chores fun. Maybe he’s just completely in love with you. Whenever people make fun of him for being completely whipped for you, he would usually give them sass back. But if someone were to do it right now, he would most likely agree with them. Nothing is certain, especially in his life. However, there is one thing for certain. He wants to marry you one day, he simply doesn’t see a future without you and your signature laugh in his life.

You let out a boisterous laugh when you smack him across the face with the piece of foam. He can’t help but let out a laugh himself. Yeah, this is the girl he wants to marry and have a future with. And he doesn’t want it any other way. The velvet box is already sitting underneath all of his old hockey gear. Waiting to be presented to you. All he has to do is plan the perfect proposal for you. He simply can’t wait to make you his, until death do you part.

[buckybabesonly]

Mockingbird

Summary: Bucky tells you he doesn’t need you, except he can’t live without you.

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst

Warnings: I’m not a medical expert, mentions of character injury, Bucky self-wallowing

Word count: 2.8k

Knowing that Bucky was constantly amid danger was the bane of your existence. You could plead him to be careful, always remind him to take care of himself, but you knew your words could do little to protect him from harm.

He was a soldier first and would always do the right thing on the field, no matter how dangerous. He would attack those against him and protect those beside him, even if it meant that his safety was on the line.

It was one of the sources of your arguments, and you hated it.

In the beginning, you thought you would be able to take it. After all, he had been doing this long before he met you. When you first got together, he had made sure you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Your love for Bucky had been stronger than anything, and you knew you had to at least try, no matter how unconventional the relationship.

So, over a year later, even though you couldn’t have frequent dates like a ‘normal’ couple, and sometimes Bucky crawled into your bed looking bruised and battered, and you had found yourself in the crosshairs of Bucky’s enemies one too many times, you thought you had finally found happiness.

Bucky worried about you too. Being his girlfriend meant that he had a weakness to be exploited, and the fear grew over time after the first attack on your life just four months into your relationship. It had been a close call, but after that incident you moved into the Tower which had much safer security measures than your downtown apartment. It was probably more convenient to live literally where you worked, anyway.

The unexpected turning point, however, was seeing Bucky being wheeled into the medical wing on a gurney, unconscious with blood painting every exposed inch of his face. You were paralysed with fear, unable to even speak as you were ushered out of the room, dressed in your scrubs but far too incapable of being the one to tend to him.

He had made a full recovery, but this did little to ease your anxiety. A week after he’d been discharged, your fights began again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said tersely, doing little to hide his frustration as you paced your room.

“And we’re having it again,” you said through gritted teeth. “Bucky, do you know how scared I was when I saw you? I literally couldn’t move – Steve had to basically carry me out of there. That’s never happened to me before. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think – I froze.”

Bucky’s face softened, knowing how terrified you were.

“That can’t happen again,” you continued, anger bubbling in your voice.

“What do you mean?” He dragged a hand across his face, looking exhausted.

“You almost died, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “They’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Stop it!” You exclaimed loudly, turning on him, livid. “I know you always joke about things like that, but it’s not funny.”

“What do you want me to do?” It was a genuine question, and you were hyperaware of how tired Bucky looked in this moment. You felt guilty for adding to his existing stress, but you weren’t sure how you were going to cope anymore.

“Can you just – I don’t know, take a break?” You knew the words coming out of your mouth were silly, but you just wanted Bucky to stop. Stop getting hurt, stop getting injured, stop risking his life and risk taking himself away from you permanently.

“This is all I know,” Bucky said firmly. “You know that this is what I have to do.”

“Do you? Do you have to do it?” You challenged. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you knew you were being unfair but your stubbornness meant you had to stick to your guns.

“What do you expect? You want me to take a part-time job in a grocery store, instead?”

You didn’t take kindly to his snarky tone, bristling.

“I’m expecting you to take this relationship seriously.”

“What part of me doing my job means I don’t take this relationship seriously?” He shot back, looking irate.

“You’re supposed to take my needs into consideration, too. Nowadays, every time you leave, I think it might be the last time I see you.” Your voice cracked on the final word, and Bucky could see you crumbling as your eyes stung.

He quickly approached you, pulling you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest. He was the only person you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, and he had seen you cry more often than he’d like to.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips into your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, knowing he didn’t quite understand the extent of your fear, try as he may.

The argument ended with kisses melting into your skin and reassuring words in your ear, and you allowed him to comfort you, though you knew it was only temporary.

Anger was blinding Bucky’s better judgement.

It was Sam’s turn to be wheeled into the medical wing, but this time, it didn’t look like he would be as lucky. He was still human, after all, and it looked like HYDRA had managed to do a number on the Falcon.

Sam had to undergo emergency surgery as Bucky stalked up and down the waiting room. He was muttering under his breath, Sam’s blood still slick on his hands.

You rushed to the medical wing as soon as you heard, knowing that Sam was in the safe hands of your colleagues and that your boyfriend needed you. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you burst through the doors, panic written on your face.

Bucky was torturing himself mentally. Replaying the events a couple of hours ago over and over in his head, watching as Sam crashed onto the concrete ground, wings smashed into smithereens and his body unresponsive, as the assailants got away. They hadn’t been outnumbered, but were taken by surprise at HYDRA’s unusually advanced tech. They had equipment that Bucky and Sam had not been prepared for and, unfortunately, struggled to combat.

Bucky had managed to get out unscathed bar a few scratches and bruises, but Sam was in much worse shape. Perhaps the worst Bucky had ever seen him.

He hated himself.

They were partners, and he had failed him.

“Bucky, are you alright?” You had been repeating that same question over and over again, but Bucky barely seemed to hear you. “I’ve looked at the team’s initial assessment - Sam should be okay.”

Okay? How could anything be fucking okay when HYDRA was still a threat to Bucky, to you, to everyone that he cared about? He was seething with anger, feeling hopelessness and rage consume him.

“I need to get out of here,” he grunted finally, shrugging you off and walking towards the doors. You recognised this response - he was shutting down, shutting you out, wanting to internalise his rage.

You gaped at him, pulling on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Can you please talk to me?” You knew what had happened had shaken him up, and you were determined not to let him wallow by himself.

“I know where their nest is,” Bucky spat, speaking to himself more than to you. “I can get them.”

You stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you serious? You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“Sam got hurt because we were too fucking scared to go straight for the target,” Bucky practically snarled. “We thought we could play a strategy, work bottom up. But fuck that, they almost killed us out there, and I’m fucking done.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said harshly, knowing that Bucky wasn’t thinking straight. “You’re going to go in there, guns blazing and get outnumbered and beat? Again?”

“I can get the backup,” Bucky grunted.

“You’re putting yourself and everyone else’s lives in danger,” you said sternly. “Stop it and use your brain for one second, James.” You were secretly terrified, knowing that nothing could stop Bucky once he had his mind set on something. What would you do if he went in there alone and unprepared? What would you do if he got injured like Sam?

Bucky glared at you, and you almost recoiled at the sight, but stood your ground. “You know I’m right. You are being stupid and reckless.” You kept your voice steady, staring him down.

He marched up to you, pointing to the room where Sam was currently being operated in. You flinched at how furiously his boots pounded against the ground.

“Sam could die because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, exasperated. “You need a plan of attack. I know you’re angry right now, but you need to be calm.”

You watched as he turned away from you and suddenly lashed out, punching a sizeable dent in the wall, making you jump.

“You don’t know shit.”

You grimaced, hating the way he was speaking to you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, a small scowl on your lips. “I’m scared, Bucky. I won’t have you going out there, especially not in this state of mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing knowing full well where they are,” Bucky said, jaw clenching. He was feeling so frustrated and didn’t know why you couldn’t seem to understand.

“I know you’re angry,” you repeated, making Bucky’s jaw tick, “but you’re thinking blindly, and you need me to make you see sense.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” he said sharply.

His back was still turned to you, but you could see how his shoulders immediately sagged out of their defensive position once the words left his mouth. You audibly gasped, taking a step back and swallowing hard. Your lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

The constricting in your heart was awfully painful as you absorbed his words, ringing loud and clear.

I don’t need you.

His words made one of your biggest insecurities become something fully tangible. The deep-rooted belief that, at the end of the day, Bucky didn't really have any use for someone like you.

Cursing, he turned back round to look at you properly, his face full of guilt at your crestfallen expression.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything at first, inhaling shakily. Trying to catch your breath.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, unable to hide the tears in your eyes. He took a step forward but you walked backwards again, rapidly until your back thudded against the doors.

"I shouldn't have said that -" he began, hating the way he could see the way your nails were digging hard into your fleshy palms, the way you did whenever you felt upset. Your mouth was trembling and he knew you were trying so hard not to cry

“I’m going to go,” you said quietly, turning to make your hasty exit and ignoring his pleas for you to stay.

You said quietly in your room, mulling to yourself carefully about what had happened. You had locked yourself away as soon as you had assurance from your fellow doctors that Sam’s surgery had been a success.

Bucky’s words swam in your mind. You knew they were borne from anger, but they had to have some truth in it.

He didn’t need you, not really. What could you give him that someone else couldn’t? What’s more, you were just an ordinary human. Weak, expendable.

You felt a cold chill creep through your chest as you continued to let the thoughts swirl.

You didn’t want to make the mistake of believing that you were more important to him than you actually were.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sat on the ground at the foot of your bed. You hugged them tight as if they could provide you some comfort, letting your tears soak into the fabric of your jeans.

Bucky never had a bad word to say against you. He was always the first person to battle away your self-doubts, your self-loathing, your insecurities. You wondered if he had always secretly believed that he didn't truly need you.

It was insane how much words could hurt.

A gentle tapping at your door made you jump, and you knew instantly it was him. His voice followed shortly after, a gentle plead.

“Can you open the door?”

His voice was apologetic, and it just made you want to cry harder. You heard him sigh when you didn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean it. I was just being a jerk.”

You forced yourself to stand up and padded over to the door, knowing that he could hear your movements. You took a deep breath and opened it, met by the sight of his handsome, guilt-ridden face.

“It’s okay,” you said curtly, shrugging. “You said what you said. And I think, to some extent, you meant it.”

He scanned your tear streaked face, knowing how hard you were trying to keep your expression cool and face emotionless.

Bucky’s face became anguished, frowning and shaking his head vehemently. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his, though yours remained limp in his large palms.

“I didn’t,” he said firmly. “Of course I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t just take his words back and pretend they never happened, and he despised that he had hurt you.

His emotions were complex, his anger raw and all-consuming. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lashed out at your mere suggestion of reigning them in. He didn’t need to be placated – or so he thought – he just wanted to ride out that anger and hurt those people who posed a threat to everyone he cared about.

How could he make you think that he didn’t need you? Of course he needed you – you were his motivation for everything in life. You were his reason that he wanted to be better.

He should have listened to you when you tried to reason with him. He lost control of his feelings, and he was ashamed.

Bucky hugged you suddenly, circling his arms around you. He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes as you stood with your arms by your sides, unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed again, his words like silk in your ear. “Today has been kind of a shitty day. With HYDRA showing their faces again, and Sam getting hurt, and knowing that you could be in danger…it made me feel like I had to get out there and shut down any possibility of something happening to you. And I felt that I needed to do that alone, to be the one to eliminate the threat.”

You bit down on your lower lip, tears welling in your eyes again. You could feel the love radiating from Bucky as he held you, and it helped soothe the ache in your heart.

“When you tried to calm me down, I know you meant well, doll, I’m so sorry. But there was a voice in my head telling me that I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and when you told me not to do anything, I snapped.” His confession was wrought with honesty, and you softened your stance, raising your arms up to wrap around him, too.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed now.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him. “I know you just want to protect me.”

“Believe me,” he said sternly, eyes locked with yours, “that I need you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “I may be a fucking super soldier with a dumb metal arm and fight off bad guys, but I need you to remind me that I’m much more than just that.” He studied your face long and hard, making sure that you really understood him. Finally, he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Forgive me?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, unable to concentrate now as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer against his body, his solid chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. I might need a little more convincing,” you muttered, pulling him into your room and closing the door behind him.

The door stayed shut for the rest of the evening.

[shotoyami]

Could do gambit x f reader basically f reader is a normal person working and is saved one day by gambit in a fight and offers to take her home and basically gets to know her and take her out on a date’s <33

prenotes: Gambit beloved <33 !!! The silly little Cajun man, he has my heart… I loved writing this sm, super cute, might make a part two if anyone would like to see that!!!

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Remy LeBeau/Gambit + female reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, that’s all to be seen here

notes: so please ignore the jokes I make in here if anyone doesn’t like them, I had to make them as a retail worker and the usual daily struggles of retail. but if anyone laughs, I’m glad! (please respect your retail workers, they don’t get paid enough or appreciated enough)

word count: 900+

Sir, this is a Walmart…

Work. Mediocre, stressful, annoying. At least, that’s a normal day on the job. Another day at some high end grocery store that cannot be named here, just dealing with the same customers to expect every day. The entitled old people, the crass young people that shouldn't be without adult supervision, crying babies that the mother literally is not even a foot away from and doesn’t care about, and so much more stupidity. 

“You young kids and not respecting their elders. I swear, it’s like I always talk to the same person no matter where I go unless it’s a machine!” Like now, where an older woman is harassing me.

I force a civil smile onto my face, knowing everything is both on video and on audio, and that anything against store policy could get me fired. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Unfortunately, I can’t bend the rules for anyone. If I change the price for you, I’d have to change the price for everyone in the store- which can’t happen, of course.” I try to explain to the woman– which is stupid, because when do entitled people ever listen to reason? She starts shouting, which is to be expected, and of course a supervisor comes over, trying to gauge what’s happening, and now she’s screaming at them too. The supervisor gives me a glance and I just put my hands up defensively and turn and walk away– because I don’t get paid anywhere near enough to deal with this crap.

I fall into the breakroom’s couch with a long sigh, making one of my coworkers giggle. “Gosh (y/n), tell us all how you really feel girl.” I groan, but let out a small laugh, finding humor in my coworker’s words. “Was it Sharon again? Or Beth?”

I sat up as I respond, “Neither, it was Martha.” My coworker grimaces at the name, before she sighs.

“Yikes. I’m sorry girl, she’s a pain.” I snicker, nodding in agreement. “But have you seen that new looker that’s been coming in recently?” That sparks my attention, and I sit fully toward her, attentively. “No? Okay, so there’s this guy that’s been coming in, right? And he’s got weird eyes and a southern accent, and he flirts with everyone.” I nod along as she speaks, humming afterward in thought.

“No, I haven’t seen or met him yet. He sounds interesting?” She nods in agreement, but we’re interrupted as our supervisor comes in, rolling his eyes.

“Martha.” Is all he says, making both of us giggle. “You’re good to go back on the floor, (y/n).” I nod and hop up, making my way back out onto the sales floor.

Of course, my luck willing, there’s some weird looking people (hey, we’re not trying to judge here, but just imagine this the same kinda way as describing your neighborhood crackhead) getting into a fight on the sales floor. I stand there, awkwardly, because I’m not trying to get into the middle of all of that. 

As I go to shuffle on by, because I don’t get paid enough to care, some kind of metal comes flying at me. My survival instincts aren’t survivaling because I just stare at my impending doom for a moment, accepting my fate and all, until a card with a purple looking hue just flies in front of me and blows up the metal??????

Whilst pondering my existence and how I didn’t just die, I get grabbed and my snatcher???? savior???? just kind of runs, cursing in some other language – french? Once again accepting my fate, I don’t exactly struggle or anything because this is all on camera and surely  someone will clock me out for this or just give me extended pay time for dealing with this crap.

The person finally stops and sets me down in the back of the parking lot, and I find that it’s my coworker’s deemed ‘new looker’. “Ya’ alri’, cher?” I slowly nod, probably looking like a big eyed fish or a barn owl or something. He chuckles, offering a hand, “The name’s Remy LeBeau, ya’ welcome fa’ the save. How’s ‘bout yous make it up ta’ me by lettin’ me walk ya’ on home? Ya’ off the clock?” Again, I just nod stupidly – my coworkers can clock me out, it should be fine. Fortunately, I use public transportation anyway, so it all works out.

Of course, everyone’s staring at the man next to me. Not so much for his “good looks,” but moreso for his odd appearing eyes – red on black. The entire subway is…rather quiet for once. It’s a nice change, a welcome change. He’s the one that breaks the silence as we get off of the subway, “Ya’ from ‘round these parts?” He sort of leans over me, smirking but still being quite respectful. He’s probably fishing for something in common, given his thick southern accent.

“No, I’m from the next state over.” He slowly nods, humming and keeping the conversation going similarly until we arrive at my front door. “So, I be seein’ ya’ again? Here, le’mme give ya’ my fone number.” He quickly comes up with a way to scribble down his digits, handing the paper to me. “An’ maybe we can go on a nice little date or somethin’ soon, cher?”

A goofy smile comes onto my face at this words, a bit shocked that all it took was a bit of small took to charade this man, but I nod in agreement nonetheless. “I’d appreciate if it involved me not being in immediate danger next time?” He chuckles and nods.

“See ya’ then, darlin’.”

[messedupfan]

Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life. 

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest. 

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out. 

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room. 

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.” 

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.” 

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much. 

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus. 

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile. 

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?” 

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.” 

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.” 

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with. 

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much. 

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself. 

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs. 

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch? 

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips. 

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says. 

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?” 

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that. 

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles. 

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies. 

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.” 

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.” 

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says. 

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.” 

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that. 

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.” 

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.” 

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.” 

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early. 

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.” 

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off. 

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa. 

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.” 

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.” 

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?”  You ask softly as her shoulders shake. 

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says. 

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication. 

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect. 

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —” 

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—” 

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye. 

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest. 

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently. 

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully. 

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her. 

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall.  You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–” 

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes. 

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it. 

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away. 

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her. 

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight. 

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open. 

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to. 

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp. 

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep. 

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart. 

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile. 

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing. 

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.” 

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling. 

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.” 

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.” 

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!” 

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.” 

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.” 

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh. 

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork. 

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name. 

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car. 

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her. 

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet. 

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.” 

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.” 

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist. 

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?” 

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.” 

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?” 

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.” 

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you. 

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today. 

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation. 

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds. 

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel. 

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her. 

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been? 

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock. 

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head. 

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck. 

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her. 

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease. 

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen. 

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her. 

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.” 

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?” 

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive. 

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light. 

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head. 

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day. 

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt —  no, feel. 

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into  Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down. 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see. 

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands. 

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words,  “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and,  “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends. 

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm

[darlingmbappe]

Out of the Dark | Kylian Mbappé x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Though months of an almost picture-perfect relationship, Kylian still kept you hidden like his own personal secret. How are you supposed to feel like it doesn’t have something to do with how much you weigh?

Warnings: Feelings of being insecure about your weight, slight angst at the beginning, vague sex scene, cussing, not edited very well. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

You’re so proud of him. Truly, he deserves every bit of praise he gets. Even before you’d met him, you followed his career closely, amazed at how someone your age could be accomplishing such monumental achievements. And now, you get to love him intimately, personally tell him how fantastic he is, how much you admire him.

You and Kylian have been together for around eight months, the greatest eight months. It was mutually agreed that your relationship would be kept in the dark from everyone. This seemed like the best idea, what with him having the status he does and you being just an average person. Besides, you’ve never enjoyed the spotlight and we’re happy to keep your weekly grocery store run paparazzi free.

Hidden behind that superficial excuse was the real reason why you were content not being in any tabloids… the bigger body you occupied wasn’t exactly something the media would ignore. You could practically read the headlines already, a reasonable delusion you constantly had to push from your mind in order to stay sane and secure.

It was hard work, learning to love yourself, building up your confidence. You knew you love and accept the body you had, but there was always that little voice in the back of your head saying, ‘am I strong enough to put myself out there like that?’

Kylian seemed relieved when you asked him if the relationship could be kept hush, but now you feel like it’s been too long. You’d brought up the idea of going public after your six month anniversary, but he dismissed it with a quick shake of the head, blaming his agent and how she would freak out if he was announcing a new relationship. She would set him up with dates for all of these events. Models, actresses, and influencers hung on his arm at red carpets while you snuggled alone on the couch, following the events through twitter.

He always assured you that he wished it was you, but it was too complicated. It was a viable excuse at first, but it’s four months away from your one year anniversary. You were tired of dropping hints about beautiful restaurants and romantic spots. You were starting to feel like he wanted to hide you, and not because of his agent would complain or his fans would uproar, but because he was ashamed of you. What a shitty feeling.

“What’s that look, amor?” Kylian asks your reflection in his bathroom mirror.

Not realizing you were lost in thought, you shake your head, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing.” Smile. “You look great.”

He fixes his tie then turns to you. “Very convincing.”

You try and play it cool, laughing. “No, you seriously look amazing.” It was obvious he didn’t mean that part, but you really don’t feel like having this fight right now.

“So do you.” He grabs your hips, trapping you against him and the door.

Now you really do laugh. “Good one, Ky.”

While he wore a designer suit, you were rocking a pair of boy-short underwear and an oversized hoodie. Kylian was going to another super fancy award ceremony. He was getting a trophy and everything, but you couldn’t be there with him. Instead, he’s going to kiss the cheek of a tall, skinny, gorgeous 21 year old model when his name gets called. She was get to be his date for the night while you — the girlfriend — waited patiently in his bed for him to come home and tell you all about it.

The dynamic of the whole affair sets in, sending a little tang of jealousy and insecurity through your body. He notices how your stare points away from him now as you wiggle out of his grip and trudge towards his bed. Kylian walks toward you as you flip through Netflix without any intention of picking something anytime soon.

“I wish you could come with me.” He offers, his facial expressions ridden with guilt. You respond with a quiet and half-hearted hum, continuing to look through the true crime collection. He picks up your dismissiveness. “You know I do.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t mean the sarcastic tone behind it, it was just a natural reaction.

He sighs loudly, scratching his neck. “If you want to say something, say something. I can’t read your mind.” You continue to flip through shows and movies, trying to mask the sad expression that you surely couldn’t hide much longer. “We agreed to this. We both wanted it this way.”

“Eight months ago.” You add, looking at him now. He looked annoyed, like this conversation was a burden to have. “At some point I want to get out of this house. I feel like we should, I don’t know… rethink that whole part of our relationship.”

“This again?” He shuffles to the corner to grab his shoes with a huff. “You know how complicated that would be. You would hate attention like that.”

“Maybe I would.” You sit up in your spot while he sits at the foot of the bed, his back facing you. “So what? I might not love the attention but at least we get to go out to dinner, or take a walk together, or I could hug you after a match, or act like we’re together at all!”

He finishes putting his shoes on, still facing away from you. Kylian doesn’t say anything back for a while. You just waited for him, he had to say something eventually. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Not what you wanted to hear.

You nod silently, but that hurt. You watched him grab his phone and wallet on the nightstand as he prepared to leave so he can pick up his literal runway model of a date.

“Are you ashamed of me?” The words came out of your mouth without your permission, but there they were — shifting the mood of the entire conversation without a second of mercy.

He looks back, his eyes rid of any annoyance and replaced with something kind of depressing, a look you’ve never seen from him before. He opens his mouth right as his phone rings, he looks down at it regretfully, sighing out. “One second.” He murmers sorely before he answers it.

You bit the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears at bay. Crying seems like the last thing you want to do right now. You turn your attention back to scrolling through the now very blurry movies on Netflix. He mumbles something about being right down and hangs up. “I…”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” You assured and bite your cheek harder, feeling the tears right there. “Can’t be late. Not a good look. I get it.” There was a clear harshness behind your permission.

“We’ll talk about this, alright?” He fidgets, making his way to you, kissing your forehead. You feel a tear fall and you wipe it just as quickly, not looking at him. “Hey,” he coos, lifting your chin up wo finally meet his stare. “I am not ashamed of you.” He wipes the tear and kisses your nose. “Okay?”

You nod, sniffling and casually wiping another stray tear away, offering a weak nod. “Okay.”

Kylian felt wrong for walking out at that moment. He knew you wanted to go public but never knew that you were feeling this way. It was something he wanted to unpack, something he wanted to make you feel better about.

That question drove him insane all night. His steak tasted dull, his wine tasted bitter, his date looked like nothing compared to you. She twirled her hair and batted her lashes, assuming he was single. Why wouldn’t she? Nothing in recent news even hinted at any kind of romance going on in the star footballers life, but he knew the truth. He knew who he had waiting for him under his covers, and she deserved better than what he was giving her.

The night crawled by, achingly clapping along with the crowd without really listening to what the applause could be about. After accepting his award, he only wished he could find you in the sea of strangers from the stage. He just wanted to go home. Lay with you, hold your hand, let you know his intentions.

Of course he’d thought about this secret relationship from your perspective. It’s weird, needing a date and not being able to take you, even if you were his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if the roles were reversed.

They kind of were once, and he hated that feeling with a burning passion. Your office held a Christmas party last year and everyone had to bring a date… something about even numbers for one of the holiday games they’d planned out. You mentioned it in passing that you were going with Neil, the handsome budget analysts that you considered to be one of your good friends. Kylian wanted to pick a fight so bad. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t like you going with someone else… but he couldn’t. You’d endured countless news articles pondering if he was dating one of the many women that accompany him, helped him look spiffy for these events, kissed him goodbye as he went to eat a nice dinner with hot models and actresses. How would that be fair?

Hours went by and you didn’t feel the need to wait up for him. These events could drag on for hours past your bedtime, and your mood tonight in particular didn’t feel up to listening to all the glorious details that he makes out to sound dreadful… free cocktails, gourmet food, meeting celebrities, making new friends… there were only so many ways to complain about it before it started sounding disingenuous. The more you thought about it the later it got, quickly time spiraled out of your control, finding yourself watching the busy streets of Paris through the open window from the bed. The frustration you felt when your eyes closed and all you saw was Kylian arm in arm with girls that weren’t you put a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

It couldn’t have been later than 1 o’clock in the morning when Kylian returned, his tie loosened, top buttons undone, jacket almost dragging on the ground as he trudged up the stairs, leaving the shiny new trophy by the door.

It’s kind of insane to him how on long days like these he craves your touch, your comfort. He never thought of himself as someone who could be dependent on another person, at least not in this time of his life. With his priorities set on becoming a legendary football star, he didn’t necessarily set aside time for romance, but you just… happened. Someone so unlike the others, your charm reeling him in until he knew he was done for. Helpless.

The pressure of the public eye is brutal. He knows first hand how the media can ruin a relationship, no matter how strong the pillars you stand on are. They find ways to chip you down, make you doubt everything, make you doubt yourself. You were innocent to it all. He wanted to keep you that way. Selfish, sure, but he knew it would eventually cause some vicious issues down the line. It happens every time.

As he walked through the bedroom door, the shape of your silhouette under the covers tugged on his heart. Though his brain was begging him to wash up in the bathroom and go to sleep, his feet lead him to your side of the bed.

He crouched down at eye level with you, petting a gentle hand on top of your head, taking his time to really look at your face. You eyes slowly opened, he offered a tiny smile that he didn’t even realize grew on his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, amour.” He cooed, running his thumb over your cheek.

“I can’t sleep.” You groggily respond, closing your eyes at his touch.

He leaned over, kissing your forehead continuously without pulling away. “I’ll come to bed in a second.” He mumbled against your skin before standing, taking off his uncomfortable outfit on the way. He made quick time brushing his teeth and washing his face, changing into a clean pair of boxer briefs before crawling into his spot next to you.

Without thinking twice, his hands latched around your waist, pulling your bodies close together and spooning you with his face nuzzled into your hair.

You were hyperaware of everything. The way that his hand landed on the puff of your stomach, the amount of room you took up on your half of the bed, the roll that formed when you laid on your side like you were. At the beginning of the relationship that’s all you could think about whenever Kylian wrapped his arms around you. It took you a while to not tense up and let yourself melt into his touch, but tonight you were taken back to the beginning. The questioning if you were ever going to be good enough. If you’d ever be taken seriously as a couple. If people thought you two looked weird together, that he could do better than you.

“You’re beautiful.” Kylian eased, snapping you out of your thoughts. He felt your muscles tight under your skin, he just wanted you to relax. “I mean it, (Y/N).”

You didn’t say anything back, gulping to try and get rid of the panicky lump in your throat. He kissed the shell of your ear, reaching his hand under your T-shirt and letting it land on your bare stomach.

You tensed up more, instinct telling you to get up and go to the bathroom or something to get out of this situation.

“Stop, bébé.” He clicked once feeling your squirming. “Let me hold you.”

The longer the two of you stayed silent, listening to each others breathing, basking in the warmth you both provided, you felt more at ease. He shifted slightly, letting himself look down on you while holding himself up on his forearm.

He touched your cheek, tracing tour eyelashes with his thumb. “I’m taking you out to a nice dinner tomorrow night.”

You furrowed your brows. “Out?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “That new Thai restaurant you told me about last week.”

The tears swarmed your eyes, a wave of happiness surging through your body like electricity. “Really?” Your voice came out squeaky, laced in weary excitement.

He smiled down at you, kissing your grin onto his own face. “Of course.”

“Oh, baby…” You coo, grabbing his face in your own hands, letting some of the tears run down the side of your face. “Thank you.”

Kylian wiped them away sweetly. “Don’t thank me. I should have done this a while ago. I shouldn’t have kept you hidden away all to myself for this long. It wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry.”

You pulled his neck down and kissed his passionately, but the pace was slow. Eventually, your tongues greeted each other expertly, his legs climbed over to lay his body on yours, his hand roamed under your shirt to feel your bare tits. It wasn’t long before you both got rid of the minimal layers keeping you apart, desperate to feel safe in each others touch.

He was gentle, loving, caressing every inch. Kylian spent extra time loving on the places he knew you overthought about. The ones that people would point out in the past. He kissed and licked them while praising you, leaving marks to remind you how he felt about you. All of you.

You attempted to roll over and have him take you from behind, but he pushed you down. “I wanna see your face. Wanna watch you. Wanna look at you.” He was borderline incoherent, but completely lucid. He said all the right things, forgetting completely about the surefire wave of trouble that would be headed your way tomorrow night.

Kylian was drunk on your sweet sounds. The continued “ah, ah, ah”’s that escaped your plumped lips drove him insane, cumming inside your shaking walls while watching the pleasure grow on your scrunched face. You came while clutching his biceps, closing your eyes tightly in euphoria.

He cleaned you both up, wiping you down with a wet rag before laying back next to you. This time, he pulled you into his chest while he laid on his back, feeling your body now comfortable and relaxed, listening to your soft snores that tickled his bare chest.

The next morning, Kylian’s side of the bed was empty, but the vague memory of his sweet kiss that landed on your forehead before he left send butterflies to your stomach. The much clearer memory of dinner plans tonight erupted another wave of them, motivating you to get the day started as soon as possible, needing to get home and prep for a night you’ve been waiting for for way too long.

On the doorstep of your humble townhome sat a big white box, a pink letter taped to the top with your name written nicely on top. It was obviously Kylian’s penmanship; neat but a little wonky. You giggled to yourself, bringing the box inside and opening the envelope.

To my sweet (Y/N),

You will look so beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to see you. Be ready by 7:30.

I love you, bébé.

-Kyks

You pressed the card dramatically to your chest, humming at the sweetness overload from your boyfriend. Though you wanted to relish in that moment, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to see what the hell was in the box.

“Oh, wow…” You gasp as you catch the first glimpse of the dress that sat neatly on the tissue paper. You pulled it out, putting it against your body. It was a pink floral midi dress, form-fitting at the top, looser on the skirt and a slit that ran down the side. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Thank god that Kylian has a sense of style or else you’d be making your debut in an ugly outfit… Even better, you were thankful he knew your size because that thing fit like a glove. Goddamn… you look so sexy in this.

Time flies, it really does. Especially when your brain is working overtime thinking about the absolute worst things that could happen. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking two shots of tequila to calm your jittery nerves, hoping the shaking in your hands or the knot in your stomach would subdue before the knock on the door came. But, alas, it came…

You took a deep breath in the mirror, checking yourself from head to toe. Confidence is something you had to build, and it’s so much harder than people make it out to be. Fake it ‘till you make it can only take you so far, the rest is real work, especially in a world that praises people who look the opposite of you.

You’d hear your thinner friends complain about how fat they looked right in front of you, as if you didn’t have to live in that reality every single day. It was like their worst nightmare was looking like you. They’d tell you “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” As if you couldn’t be both. You’d walk closely to the wall and try and take up the most minimal amount of space possible — as if you could hide your size, feeling like every judgmental eye was on you all the time.

It was the little things that added up (along with the more brutal comments you’d get through life), but your skin was thick. Thick, yes. Unbreakable? You were about to find out. As soon as you stepped out under the mercy of the public eye with him… you’ll be tested how much you can actually take. How much this relationship could actually take.

You swung the door open to reveal the most handsome sight you’d ever seen. Kylian wore an all black suit. You thought to yourself that this must be what the models of the past were used to opening their doors to. Now, it’s finally your turn.

Kylian was holding a bouquet of flowers that matched your dress, showing off a huge smile. He seemed like he wanted to speak words, but his eyes spoke for him, much louder than anything his voice could come up with.

He eyed you up and down, a visible gulp making you want to retreat into yourself shyly. “Hi.” You meeped, cheeks sore from the smile you couldn’t shake.

Kylian cleared his throat, blowing out a raspberry. “You…”

He continued to eye you, walking in slowly as you shut the door behind him. “You did good with this dress.” You complimented, taking the flowers from his hands and walking them to your sink to grab a vase.

“The dress is just a dress, amour.” He growled, watching your backside like a lion would his lioness, infatuated with every curve and crease your body created under the material. “You in that dress? Tu blagues?” Are you kidding me? He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and kissing your shoulder. “Oh lá lá…”

You laughed, lulling back into his touch, basking in his warm and secure embrace. “You always say the right things, Mbappé.”

He hums, unwrapping his arms and taking the flowers you were cutting from your hands, taking over the process. You stepped back and watched him as he filled the vase up with water, dropping them in with precision, one by one until they displayed beautifully.

He set them next to the bottle of tequila and shot glass you'd left out. He raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. "For the nerves."

"Ah..." He nods, opening the cabinet and grbbing a tiny glass for himself, pouring the golden liquid into each one, holding one out to you. "To nerves of steel." You clinked your glasses, throwing your heads back and shivering as it went down. With a grimace, he shook off the taste of the drink. "Ready?"

Your mouth was dry despite the liquid that still lingered in your mouth. You inhaled deeply, faking a smile on your face while grabbing your purse. "Yep."

Kylian sensed the waver in your confirmation, reaching out to hold both your hands. "They're going to say whatever they're going to say. We can't control their thoughts on our relationship." He kissed your knuckles and all the rings you'd decorated your fingers with. "But we can't let them keep controlling us."

"I love you." You say, looking deep into your man's eyes and thinking about all the emotions you've seen them hold. The frustration after a loss. The playfulness before sex. The adoration during the first I love you that slipped his tongue. The relief that washed away the anxious look when you said it back.

"Your carriage awaits, princesse." He takes your purse and hold your hand, leading you both to the door that he opened for you.

You thanked him as he helped you into the large town car, running around to the other side and sat next to you.

As you neared the restaurant, his hand never leaving your thigh, you just looked at him, taking in every ounce of his being.

He wasn't ashamed of you. He loved you. He cared, he listened, he was perfectly yours. You knew no matter the things you'd surely read about yourself, the things you'd surely think about yourself at times, that Kylain would be a constant. This new chapter might bring some hard times, but you'll stand with Kylian. And he'd stand with you. You knew he would.

A/N: Plus sized ladies never get nearly enough representation on this platform. Hope you all enjoyed, this is something I wrote from my own feelings/experiences being plus sized! Love you all so much.

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @http-isabela

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Enough is Enough

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Goddess!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: character deaths, reader being forced to kill, revenge kills, fluff at the end

Request by anon: Heyy! Can you write a one shot  of team free will x powerful demigod reader? Where the reader is the daughter of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades  and blessed by the Gods and the Team need her help for some case and they summon her for help and in the end Dean or Sam fall in love her?

Summary: Sam and Dean take on a case where people are killing themselves after what appears to be a ghost touching them when in reality, something much deadlier is attacking them.

Square Filled: summoning a spirit for @spnclassicbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

“Okay, Sammy, tell me one more time what we’re dealing with,” Dean says as he drives into Victorville, California.

“Two people have died under mysterious circumstances. They were normal people with normal jobs until one day they suddenly went crazy and killed themselves. None of them had prior indications that they were mentally ill or had depression.”

“Yeah, that could be our thing.”

“I already called the sheriff. He’s expecting us.” Dean heads into town and stops at the local sheriff’s station. Both brothers get out and enter the station where the sheriff greets them. “Sheriff. I’m Agent Lennon and this is my partner Agent McCartney.”

“Thank you for coming out here.”

“Of course. What else can you tell us about this case?”

“I can do you one better. I can show you. Follow me.” The sheriff brings Sam and Dean to his desk where footage from a CCTV camera is already pulled up. “Go ahead. Press play.”

Sam sits down and presses play to start the video. There is a highway with passing cars and a diner on the other side of the road where someone is waiting for something. Thirty seconds pass before Sam sees something glitch in and out of the frame. If someone were scrolling through the footage, they would miss it but Sam knows what he’s looking for. As soon as the mysterious object passes through the frame, the man starts screaming in terror. He pulls at his hair and runs into traffic where he gets hit by a car.

“Poor son of a bitch,” the sheriff sighs.

Sam rewinds the footage and stops on the figure that glitches into the frame. There isn’t a good angel for it but Sam knows it’s the shape of a woman.

“Was there footage of the first murder?” Dean asks.

“No. It happened inside the victim’s home.”

“If you get any more footage, please let us know immediately.”

“Sure thing.”

Sam and Dean finish up at the police department and leave together.

“Did you see the ghost?”

“I’m surprised the sheriff didn’t.”

“We should check the diner for any signs of EMF.” Sam and Dean drive over to the spot where the second victim killed himself. CSI and the police already investigated here, so the place is pretty empty. No one wants to go to a diner where someone saw a ghost and freaked the fuck out. “Why don’t you see what you can find out? I’ll talk to the staff inside.”

Dean leaves his brother’s side and heads inside while Sam takes out his EMF reader. He walks down the entire length of the parking lot but not a single abnormality shows up on the reader. It doesn’t take long for Dean to finish talking to the staff inside and he joins his brother’s side when he’s done.

“Anything?”

“They didn't see a thing. It was too dark to see if there was another person. All they knew is that he came in by himself, ate, and left. Minutes later, he went crazy and killed himself. What about you?”

“Nothing. There is no evidence that there was any ghost here. It’s weird, we definitely saw a ghost on film.”

“What else could it be?”

While Sam and Dean ponder on that questions, two teenage kids hang out at a grocery store on the other side of town. They’re known as the troublemakers of the town. They love getting into fights, trashing people’s houses, skipping school, and causing headaches for most of the adults in town. Dylan and Jaden are best friends who feed off each other’s energy so there is no stopping them whenever they come together.

Dylan is resting on the hood of his car while Jaden is smoking next to him. They’re in the mood for a little fucking around with the locals in town. The best kind of people to fuck with are the tourists and people who pass by their town because they don’t know the boys’ reputation. Someone new moved to town not that long ago making him the perfect target for the boys’ torment.

The man is walking out of the store since his shift has finished and walks toward his car. Dylan nudges Jaden with his foot and gestures to the employee. Jaden takes a deep inhale from his cigarette and flicks it onto the ground.

“Melinoe, come out come out wherever you are,” Jaden smirks.

You emerge from the shadows with a look of hatred on your face. Dylan and Jaden smirk and point to the man walking to his car.

“I should kill you two instead,” you glare.

“Do that and you won’t ever see your heart again. Now go kill the bitch before we kill you,” Dylan threatens.

If someone is in possession of your heart, they have the ability to use you in any way they wish. If someone were to pierce your heart, then you’ll die a slow and painful death. These two idiot kids got ahold of your heart and now have power over you that no human should ever have.

You walk over to the man who has no clue what’s about to happen to him. You’re all for killing people and bringing their souls to the Underworld for punishment but only those who deserve it. The people you’ve killed never deserved it despite the two kids thinking they did. You walk past the man and touch his shoulder to let your powers flow through him. The man screams in terror and pulls at his hair as he is driven mad. He carries self-defense weapons to protect himself which he uses to kill himself.

You turn back to the shadows when you’ve done your part.

The next morning, Sam and Dean show up at the grocery store parking lot where the man killed himself. Dean talks to some of the staff while Sam takes out his EMF reader to check for paranormal signs. Much like the last scene, nothing shows up.

“Dean, this isn’t making any sense.”

“The store manager says we can look at his security footage. He got a good view of the parking lot. Come on.”

Sam and Dean walk inside the store and meet the sheriff at the manager’s office where the cameras are. The manager plays back the footage to the right after the man left for his shift. There are two kids by a car in the background that are illuminated by the light pole, and they’re watching the man walk to his car. A ghostly figure walks into the frame and they gesture for it to attack the man.

They watch as the figure walks past the man who then freaks out. He takes one of his self-defense weapons and kills himself with it.

“Who are those two kids?” Dean asks. The manager rewinds the footage and zooms in on both of them, getting a clear view of them. “Sheriff, could you identify them?”

“Yeah. I’ll have my men look into it.”

The sheriff immediately sends the footage over to his IT department who comes back with both of their identities and their addresses. Sam and Dean will take over from here, so they head over to Dylan’s house in hopes that he’s home. Dean and Sam walk up to the front door and knock three times. Five minutes later, Dylan answers the door with Jaden behind him.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Are you Dylan and Jaden?”

“What’s it to you, old man?” Sam and Dean push themselves inside their house and look around. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Where is she?” Dean asks and shoves his FBI badge into his face. “Where are you hiding her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The woman you use to kill people. Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave before I call the police on you. Do you even have a warrant to be in here?”

Dean is about to tear him a new one when you appear from the shadows in the corner of the room. Sam and Dean take out their guns with iron bullets and aim them at you. Dylan and Jaden step back when they see the weapons to stay out of the line of fire.

“Who the hell is she?”

“Those bullets won’t do anything to me.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the thing they keep hostage to kill others with,” you glare at them.

“Kill them,” Dylan orders.

This is it. This is your way out. At this moment, you don’t care about your heart or where they might have hidden it. The fact is, they don’t have it on them right now.

“No, I don’t think I will. I’m done being your bitch. It’s time you get a taste of your own medicine.”

You disappear from sight and allow them a few seconds of pure terror of not knowing where you are. You appear behind them and place your hands on both of their heads. You let your magic flow through their brains ten times harder than you did with the other victims. Almost immediately, they begin screaming their heads off in fear.

They didn’t know it, but they were declared dead the second they possessed your heart.

They claw at their hair, run their nails down their faces so hard it draws blood, and smash their heads against the walls multiple times. Dylan did it so much that his skull split open and his brain and blood spattered everywhere. Both men slid to the floors when they died, and you turn to the brothers who have shocked looks on their faces.

“My name is Melinoe but I go by Y/N these days. I am the Goddess of Ghosts, Nightmares, and Funerary Rites. I am the daughter of Persephone and Zeus and Hades combined. I’d like your help finding out where my heart is so I can be free.”

Sam and Dean call in the double suicide before leaving the scene as fast as possible. You join them in their motel room to talk about what you’re here for and what it means to have someone possess your heart.

“We’ve met some Greek Gods in our time but never someone like you. We’ve met your father.”

“Which one?”

“Zeus.”

“Despite what people say, Zeus is worse than Hades. Zeus got jealous of Hades and banished him to the Underworld.” Sam and Dean look at each other in silence. “Look, I know you think I’m a killer but I’m not a bad person. I only kill those who deserve it so I can guide their souls into the Underworld to exact their punishment. Those two idiots made me kill innocent people.”

“How did they do that?”

“They have my heart. I shouldn’t have killed them. They hid it so I wouldn’t grab it and leave them.”

“We’ll find it,” Sam smiles.

“Thank you. I’m not all bad, you know. I can reunite people with their dead loved ones for a few minutes. Cemeteries are my favorite places to hang out in.”

You, Sam, and Dean do some research on where Dylan and Jaden could have hidden your heart. They would have chosen a place where no one would find it. A place that could be abandoned or a cave. There aren’t a lot of spots like that around town so it’s easy to compile a list.

“What will happen if your heart is destroyed?”

“I’ll die. I had ownership of my heart for thousands of years until one day I met a man. A man who heard the rumors about me and what I can do. This was during the time when Greek Gods and Goddesses were roaming Earth. He’s the sole reason why I believe in love, but he’s also the reason why I believe in heartbreak. He stole my heart and it’s been passed around ever since.”

“Greek Gods were around in 900 BC. That’s a long time to go without your heart.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoff.

“I promise to get your heart back for you.”

“Thank you,” you smile sweetly.

“Okay, I have a list of three places where your heart can be,” Dean says. “The abandoned factory outside of town, the old Well House on someone’s farm, and a cave in Long Beach. Though, I don’t think they’d drive two hours for something so precious as a Goddess’ heart.”

“Let’s check the factory first. These guys craved power. I don’t think they would allow my heart to reside on someone else’s property.”

“Factory it is.”

You three head thirty minutes to the factory outside of town. Before you step foot out of the car, you can feel the power your heart holds. It’s here and it’s calling to you. You don’t have to search the entire property because you know exactly where it is. Your heart is inside a dirty box and you scoff at the treatment it got.

“Wow, never seen that before,” Dean mutters.

You grab your heart and it glows bright green at being connected to the person it belongs to. You move the top of your dress to the side and allow your heart to be absorbed back into your body. Your entire body glows bright green before dimming down, and you turn to the brothers with a smile.

“I can’t thank you two enough for what you’ve done for me. Please allow me to repay you back. Is there a dead loved one you’d like to see again?”

“No, we’re good. I just want to get out of this God-forsaken town,” Dean chuckles.

Sam looks at his brother in thought and gets an idea.

“Actually, there might be.”

It doesn't matter where a person is buried or where they ended up after death. You have the power to draw their souls back to you for a short amount of time to give a person a chance to talk to them. Dean is shocked when you pull his mother and father from Heaven to allow him some time to talk to them. Sam never knew them, not in the way that Dean did, so he gives this moment to his brother.

“You must love your brother to let him have this,” you say to Sam.

You and he are off to the side to give Dean some time alone with his parents.

“He knew them better than I ever did,” he shrugs.

“Listen, I don’t have to be in the Underworld right now. Would you like some company for a while?”

A blush spreads across Sam’s cheeks at the thought of spending more time with you.

“I’d like that.”

x

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[azucar-skull]

H(a)unted

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @lavadragon365)

Fandom: Rise of the TMNT (Post movie)

Prompt: Halloween, the one night a year where the boys can go to the surface without hiding from humans.

Word Count: 1919

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

The single greatest day of the year! Right next to the Lair Games, Thanksgiving, and his birthday. There’s nothing Mikey loves more than Halloween. But what makes Halloween so special?

Is it the spooks? Hell no. Mikey detests the idea of horror and blood, and pizza supreme forbid…ghosts. Is it the free candy? Mmmm… Mikey can have as much free candy as he wants with the power of his puppy dog eyes and the fact his brothers and he have been stealing for food to get their groceries. It’s much easier than you think.

So what is it?

The costumes. Or better yet, the lack thereof of needing one. This is the one time of the year that Mikey gets to walk the streets freely with his brothers and get to just…be. And Halloween is now just around the corner and Mikey just can’t wait to—

“We’re not going out this year.”, Donnie spat when Mikey strided into the kitchen and showed his brothers the layout they should take for trick-or-treating.

“What?!”, Mikey squawks. “What are you talking about, Dee?”

“Donnie’s right. It’s not safe, right now.”, Raph chimes in. “The invasion was only 2 months ago. Streets are still being prepared, everyone is still on edge, and not to mention that EPF guy is still after us. We gotta lay low.”

“But for how long?! We’ve been cooped up in the same smelly old subway lair for weeks and I can’t take it anymore, I think I’m gonna just explode from pure boredom!”, Mikey groans in annoyance. “Pretty sure I remember Donnie saying something about how box turtles hate captivity.”

“Hey, don’t twist science against me, Michael.”, Donnie points a finger.

“What if we wore disguises?”, Leo suggests. “I mean, everyone else is doing it. We can just hide in plain sight.”

“The whole point of this holiday is that we don’t have to!”, Mikey stomps his foot against the ground. “I’m tired of hiding! I just want to be me!”

The others are quiet. They look away, frowning in their own volitions. Raph sighs, putting his foot down.

“Sorry, Mikey. Maybe next year.”

Mikey balls his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. He turns on his heel and storms out of the kitchen, hurrying back to his room before his brothers could see him start to cry.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The evening of Halloween arrives and Mikey’s so-shell feed is full of people out and about having fun. Meanwhile Mikey is stuck in his room, stuffing his face full of whatever last-minute Halloween candy bag was left at the store. It’s not fair. He wants to join the fun. But his brothers don’t want to go.

…

Wait, so why doesn’t Mikey just go by himself?

Shit, why didn’t Mikey think of that earlier? He can just head out, have his fun, get some candy, and come back as if nothing happened. Sure, his brothers will be mad that he snuck out, but once they see that everything’s fine, they’ll be the ones who are jealous that they didn’t get to go. Yeah, that’ll teach them.

So fuck it! Why not? Mikey springs out of the hammock, yanking the pillowcase off his pillow and heading out the door. Now he just needs to get out of here without anyone—

“Mikey?”

Mikey quickly bolts, using his ninja prowess to wall jump up and hide in the support beam on the ceiling. Talk about reflexes, huh? He spots Leo hurrying over to his room.

“Mikey, look, we’re sorry we can’t go out this year. I know you’re pretty bummed about it.”, Leo calls out as he peers into the room. “I-I was thinking we could watch a Halloween movie? Doesn’t have to be scary, we could binge some of those stop-motion ones you like. …Mikey?” Leo looks around the subway car before walking back out. He looks around once more before leaving from whence he came.

Phew, that was close. Mikey hops back down before scurrying off in the other direction. He makes his way through the sewer tunnel entrance, dashing through the waterfall before it could soak him. Then he heads up the abandoned subway stairs, towards the sounds of laughter and screams. And the streets…

The streets are beautiful.

Filled with people and creatures of all different shapes and sizes. A crowd flock down the street, cheering as they show off their creations. Little kids run around coated in blinking lights and glow sticks to help them find their way in the dark. Orange lights decorate the streets and balconies of apartments. A chilly autumn breeze shakes the withering colorful leaves on the trees as the smell of sweets flood Mikey’s senses. And just as he expected, no one bats an eye at the peculiar orange turtle. For he is right where he belongs.

“Hey, love the costume!”, a purple skeleton smiles with glowing yellow eyes and wearing a grim reaper outfit.

“Thanks! You look cool too!”, Mikey beams back.

“Just an FYI, the large candies are almost out. So you better get to it.”

“Got it! Thanks for the tip!”, Mikey nods as he heads off towards the richer neighborhoods.

Door after door, Mikey is met with smiling, welcoming faces instead of horrid and wary ones. Showered with compliments and pinching on the cheek from old ladies instead of avoided like the plague. His pillowcase begins to fill more and more, heavier and heavier. He hoists the bag over his shoulder like a candy Santa Claus as he makes his way to the next house. He spots a little girl up ahead wearing a dinosaur suit with a tutu, happily skipping down the block when a group of older teens on their bikes stop in front of her and yank her Halloween pumpkin bucket out of her hand. They dump the bucket in their backpacks before tossing the empty bucket at her head and biking away. Mikey scowls at the teens, inconspicuously getting out his nunchucks and whipping it at the bikes, causing them to crash and knock over.

Mikey rushes up to the now crying little girl. “Hey, dinosaur ballerina. What’s the matter?”, he asks softly with a smile. He reaches into his pillowcase and grabs a handful of his candy. “Here, you strike me as a Reese’s gal.”

The little girl wipes her tears. “I like the almond coconut ones.”

“You mean Almond Joy? Yuck! Who likes Almond Joy?”

“I do!”, the little girl pouts, crossing her arms.

“Well here, you can take mine. I’d be more than happy to get rid of them.”, Mikey obliges, picking out as many Almond Joys as he can find and dumping them into the girl’s bucket.

The little girl smiles as her bucket fills up as well as her heart. She lurches forward, latching Mikey’s leg in a hug. “Thank you, Mr. Turtle.”

Mikey smiles warmly, patting her head before the little girl takes off and waves goodbye.

And Mikey continues his hunt. Next house, then the next, then the next. The orange setting sun fades as the sky becomes coated in pitch black. House lights gradually begin to turn off. Children head back to their homes, tuckered out from the excitement. Now it’s just the older kids scraping what they can before the night is over. Mikey scrapes what he can as well. As luck would have it, his brothers would steal his candy out of pettiness. So he has to get extra.

He takes a scenic route back to the lair, giving him time to snag a few more pieces of candy. But up ahead he sees flashing red and blue lights. He looks up as sees a few costumed teens talking to the police. Of course, those teens probably got into some trouble. Mikey should probably steer clear of them, he thinks as he starts to cross the middle of the street.

“I mean yeah, we saw a few dinosaur costumes.”, one of the teens comments.

“No, no, turtle. Kind of looks like a human?”, a man’s voice presses. “Surely you spotted one?”

“Oh yeah, I did.”, another teen points out. “It looked sick. Almost like CGI.”

“Where?”

“I dunno.”

…Ohhh shit. They’re talking about him, aren’t they? Mikey peaks behind him at the police and spots one peculiar man among them. A tall man with pale skin, sleek black hair, wearing a tux with sunglasses (at night??). The one and only. John Bishop. Bishop has been after the turtles for a while ever since footage of them fighting the Kraang got leaked all over New York. Donnie tried to wipe as much data as he could, but even his hacker skills couldn’t outsmart the clever and cruel mastermind that is John Bishop.

The sunglasses tilt up. And Mikey knows he’s been caught. He drops the bag without a single hesitation before zipping into the alleys.

“Hey! HEY! THERE! STOP IT! GET THAT THING!”

Mikey runs as fast as he can, lashing out his nunchucks again and begins swinging up into the air to get some distance. He has to find somewhere to hide. And fast. Oh, he’s gonna be in so much trouble when this is over. Getting higher into the air, Mikey scopes his surroundings. It’s night, that gives him the advantage of hiding in the shadows. He just has to—

THWISH!

A net launches out at him, tethered to lead balls as they wrap around him and causes him to lose momentum. He shrieks as he hits the ground, thrashing about to try and escape before he hears people surrounding him. EPF soldiers all shouting orders as the exit points close in. He tries to move, tries to stand, but suddenly he is hit with electric shock. Then another. Then another. The soldiers are poking him with tased poles like poking a distressed girl confused for a witch with pitchforks. He shrills, for that’s all he can do.

Suddenly, there are flashes of light. Red, blue, and purple. There’s the sound of shouting. The rustle of someone scooping him up in large arms and carrying him out of there. Mikey tries to struggle free but his limbs are tangled up tight. A swish of a sword, and Mikey drops to the ground.

He gasps for air, panting. He blinks and finds himself on a tall building’s rooftop. And standing in front of him…were 3 very concerned older brothers.

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!”, Donnie starts. “DIDN'T WE TELL YOU NOT TO GO OUT TONIGHT? WASN’T IT CLEAR ENOUGH HOW DANGEROUS IT WAS? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!”

“You scared us, Mikey!”, Raph gripes. “You can’t just take off like that without telling anyone! What if something bad happened?”

“Mikey…”, Leo hushes. “Are you okay?”

A hiccup. Then a sob. Mikey curls inwards on himself, profusely trying to wipe his tears that refused to stop. His brothers’ expressions softened, now all quickly crouching to the ground and surrounding him with so much worry it’s suffocating. Mikey’s lip trembles in fear and despair as he brings his wobbling vocal chords to speak.

“...i just wanted to be me…”

The older brothers shower the youngest with love and a comforting embrace as Mikey wails into the night sky. All Mikey ever wants is to be loved. To be able to walk down the street with his head held up high and plastron puffed out. Just like everyone else.

But even some of us don’t get to do that either. Do we?

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

How come all my Mikey's end up depressed? MLTS Mikey's ending was bitter, no sweet. GEM Mikey had issues tbh. FCAU Mikey...uhh no spoilers from me...

Hope you liked it, Lava! Don't blame me, blame the random number generator that selected you from the prompt spreadsheet. Now, ONTO THE NEXT VICTUM!

[bitchinbarzal]

(this is kinda horrible, but the thought is still sad)

gigi and uncle adam are besties, have been since she was three days old.

and ofc as we mentioned, he might use her to pick up girls every once in a while, but that’s besides the point.

once gigi gets a little older, maybe 3,4(?), adam gets with this one girl. and she’s nice, gigi thinks.

at least she was the first time she met her.

two versions past this point:

1. then suddenly, uncle adam doesn’t come over that often. he’s passing on their weekly uncle adam and gigi dates, and he doesn’t watch her favorite cartoon anymore. and finally it rattles little gigi so much, that one night she crawls into luca and moms bed with her favorite stuffed animal clutched in her hands “dada, why uncle ad no love me no more?” with the saddest little pout on her face and luca loses it. is on the phone with adam the morning “dude, i don’t know what changed lately, but all i know is you better get your ass over to my house to watch paw patrol, or else i can’t stop your niece from believing you don’t love her.”

2. the next time gigi comes over to hang with uncle adam, her and the new gf get left alone for a little while, while adam runs to the grocery store. and instead of playing tea party with her (like gigi asked) the new gf jsut ignores her. and then she takes a call. “no, i don’t know where he went. he left me here with a fucking toddler. god kids are so difficult.” and gigi doesn’t really understand, but she knows that wasn’t nice. and so she asks her again “wanna play tea with me” and the new gf loses it. angles the phone away from her mouth and tells gigi to go away, that her uncle adam doesn’t love her as much as he loves her (new gf) and she really needed a new babysitter, because her (gigi) “uncle adam” is “getting real tired of having to hang out with her.”this scares gigi, and she goes to the corner to play tea by herself and cries. when uncle adam gets back, she’s excited for a little while, until she remembers what new gf told her, then she calms down. when mom comes to pick her up, she goes sprinting for the door. mom and adam both think this is a little weird, because usually she’ll fight tooth and nail to stay, unless promised ice cream, but they ignore it. until gigi starts rejecting uncle adam. “ready for another play date g? we’re going to the zoo!” gigi screams “NO!” and runs to hide. and of course this is now getting pretty strange, but adam starts to ignore it, and lean more in to hanging out with his gf. and now a few weeks go by. and gigi misses uncle adam. really bad. like wakes up at 2 am and crawls into luca and moms bed, bad. “momma, i miss uncle ad” “baby you’ve been mean to him, that’s why he hasn’t come around.” “he was a meanie first!” “how was uncle ad mean?” “he doesn’t love me as much as he loves her, and, and he doesn’t want to be with me no more.” now luca intervenes. “honey when did uncle adam tell you this?” “NO- no uncle ad. new gf. she, she said that uncle ad didn’t love me as much as her, and he doesn’t wanna go on our play dates anymore.” luca is up bright and early to go kick adam in the ass and make him apologize (but also has to go early to make sure momma bear wasn’t going to actually beat new gf’s ass for saying that). adam breaks up with her within the hour, but it’s going to take a lot longer than that to get his and gigi’s relationship back to where it was.

nonnie… who hurt you?? (Also I’ve named the girlfriend ruby in this)

So imagine the girlfriend has said all that to Gigi and she’s just sad. She’s so upset and when you come to get her, she sprints into your arms.

This is really unusual because Gigi spends maybe one weekend a month in Columbus with Adam because of his schedule and she’s usually crying and screaming to stay but this time she’s already on-route to the car without her bag or stuffed animal.

Adam comes out to the car to say bye but Gigi is just asking you if she can call her uncle Rut on the way home.

When it’s Adam’s next weekend to have her, Gigi declines the invite and says she’d rather stay with mom and dad. Which hurts Adam a lot he hasn’t missed a Gigi weekend since she was six months old.

Then Adam’s in Detroit playing the red wings and he stops by to watch a game on their day off, Gigi doesn’t want to sit next to him.

Both you and Luca are confused and somewhat concerned, it brings up conversations of has something happened, should you be asking Adam.

Then one night at bedtime Gigi calls on Luca to read her story and when Luca goes to grab his book, daddy loves me she gives him goodnight moon.

“Baby this is Adam’s book”

Gigi is so annoyed she loves this book “No, it’s daddy’s book now”

“Ok, G what’s wrong? Why are you so mad at uncle Adam?”

You’re standing in the hallway listening “He doesn’t love me anymore!”

“Did he say that?” You ask, coming in.

She shakes her head, eyes filling with tears “No! Ruby did, she told me he loves her now not me anymore and he doesn’t like playing with me”

You both let her sleep in your bed for the night, consoling your babygirl’s sobs throughout the night. Her cries making you cry.

“I’ll kill them Luca, I swear to fucking god” is all you said all night. You were beyond angry at both of them, Ruby for doing it and Adam for allowing it to happen.

Luca leaves the bed early morning to call his brother and explain the situation, much to adam’s surprise and anger. He breaks up with Ruby over the phone as he’s half way to Ann Arbor.

When he gets there, he finds your car to be the only one in the driveway and he’s a little frightened.

When he comes in, calling out for someone he sees your angry face staring at him as you’re soothingly gigi to sleep for her nap.

“You’ve got some nerve fantilli”

“I didn’t know!” He excuses, walking in to the nursery.

“She was heartbroken Adam, she was up all night crying and I… Adam you broke her heart, her first heartbreak and it’s her uncle who broke it”

That kicks Adam right in the gut.

He sees that she’s not asleep yet and he points to her “Can I?”

Typically, you would say no but she was heavy and your arms were sore so you passed her off and left to make lunch.

There, Adam stood holding her just like she was a baby once again and he mumbled the words to Goodnight moon to her. When she finally fell asleep he kissed her head and whispered “I’m so sorry Princess”

[abellmunsonmovie]

Steddie Headcanons 1.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Every once in a while steve will do a hair mask and will make eddie do it with him Steve has to tell eddie to put his seatbelt on  When they have to go to dress formal and wear a suit and tie they will do eachothers ties:( Eddie teaches Steve acoustic guitar Steve gets runs cold and Eddie is his own personal heater Eddie will make Steve coffee for work in the mornings They use “Man”, “Bro”, and “Dude” but romantically Eddie will slap Steves ass when he walks by  “Can you not” steve says slightly  annoyed “Can’t help it, you’re irresistible babe” Eddie says smirking

Steve will always get dressed to go anywhere, where Eddie will just go out in a tshirt he’s been wearing for 3 days and basketball shorts, and Steve will be like “You’re really gonna go out like that?” Eddie putting his hair up in a pony “Dude, we’re going to the grocery store” On days where Steve is off work, they’ll lay in Eddies bed all day and make dinner together Eddie loves head scratches and Steve loves back scratches  Eddie will make up little songs about Steve

Modern!Steddie would like Glee, SUE ME IF YOU DONT AGREE (eddie would like blaine and steve would like kurt…) I think Steve likes to have a camera on him and he’ll take cute polaroids of them tg Listen  I don’t think Steve is a skin care connoisseur or anything BUT I think he showed Eddie a few things like moisturizer and different face washes and they’ll do their skin care tg After Eddie got attacked by the demobats, Steve would help Eddie change his bandages Steve taught Eddie how to swim  If they get into a fight the next time they see eachother they’ll say “Edward…” “Steven…” If they bicker in front of Robin she’ll say  “Are you guys gonna get a divorce?” Modern!Steddie would love Chappell Roan Eddie HATES olives and Steve loves them  They’ll slow dance after cleaning up the kitchen together When Eddie can’t sleep, he will count Steve’s freckles The sound of Eddie’s heartbeat calms Steve down and makes him sleepy They both love the rain Steve has anxiety and Eddie knows just the right things to say to calm him down Also one of Steve’s anxious ticks are playing with Eddie’s rings

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Steddie has my soul forever<3 -Bella

[proclaimtheword]

(Photo credit from another site. I redacted a name often accused against the pope because I don’t like throwing that word around and I don’t believe in using it against other people, no matter how much I disagree with them.)

It has been more than a week since this happened and the pope said this before a congregation on an official trip to Singapore. I’m appalled that catholic tumblr is utterly silent on this, but not surprised. They really only get up to defend their church against protestants, and then even happily side with unbelievers. I hate fighting with other Christians, of all people, and many times avoid it and just move on. But THIS. Come on. COME ON. I thought we at least agreed Jesus is the only way to salvation! How could you not say something? At least don’t be blind to false teaching!

A catholic, of course, tried to defend it, who actually said the pope is not infallible—but I corrected him on that one (I grew up catholic you’re not fooling me, and yes I have been catechized enough)—then came back to say it only applies ex cathedra: meaning, only when he is ‘in office’ with “full authority.”

I said my pastor then has more integrity. He’s not perfect, but at least he says the same thing whether he is on the pulpit or not. He preaches the same gospel whether at church or in a grocery store. And I never have to make up new doctrine to make him or his job infallible, or exalt him more than necessary to a level higher than a church leader or teacher (I am looking at the saint and blessed pope).

Jesus says, I am The Way, The Truth, and The Life. No comes to the Father except through Me.

How clear can that be? I’ve said this before, No wonder Muslims love Catholics (I constantly refer to Islam on this blog because I live in Middle East; this is also where I converted, and I had never known what it was actually like to be Christian until I lived here). If the world had a favorite type of Christian, it might be the Catholics. And if the world had a least favorite type of Christian, I am sure it’s evangelicals. I mean, even other Christians hate us.

Today I went to church. Have I mentioned we don’t actually have a proper church building? We rent a small villa in a far-side residential area with over 50 people at a service (Praise the Lord! Even in a cramped area and with a tight budget, God still fills our house). We don’t have a name or sign plastered outside identifying as a church. We’re scared because it’s not actually legal to run an evangelical church in this country. But there are Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox churches at least one of each in my city. As I’ve said before, evangelism is illegal, but they will openly convert you to Islam. (I don’t blame them, it’s their country, we’re just here as immigrants and treated accordingly. We don’t try to change laws or culture, and we try our best to live according to the rules. As long as we keep to ourselves and treat it nothing more than a closed gathering, we’ll be fine).

Trust me, I missed being Catholic - because I was just happy and carefree. I didn’t know much of the world or the Word. Ignorance is bliss. But my life changed as soon as I became Christian - when I professed that faith, took it seriously, and preached the gospel boldly. Now I understand the Bible even more intimately - anytime it speaks of persecution, insult, and suffering, I can relate to it. When Jesus says ‘love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you,’ it has more weight.

I don’t know where I am going with this post other than it’s a rant and a writing of personal experience. My journey as a Christian is both a blessing and a curse - in the same way the apostles have written about it. But narrow is the way that leads to life. I know persecution is part of Christian life, and I shall rejoice in it.

Repent! I say this to myself more times in a day than I address it to others. I am a sinner. Always will be. But by the grace of God and blood of Jesus on the cross I shall be justified.

Jesus is the Way. There is no other way.

[heavenbarnes]

“and we’re fighting in the grocery store and i love you but i don’t know if i like you anymore”

[theupsidedownsrealestateagent]

June 1986

Eddie Munson lived by the skin of his teeth, or rather the skin of whatever those demon bats didn’t chew like he was a discount steak at the worst grocery store in town. The healing process was exhausting, and humiliating. For his entire life he’s been able to be independent with just Wayne seeing his most vulnerable and carefully hidden parts of himself. The problem with fighting an evil wizard from hell isn’t the chronic pain and constant nightmares, but the ragtag stubborn family that follows after

While the Byers-Hopper family was in California packing to move back to Hawkins (why they would do that Eddie has no goddamn clue) Nancy, Robin, and Steve made Eddie’s and Max’s recovery their personal missions. Red he gets, she’s just a kid, a kid that’s been through this shit three times with them compared to Eddie’s measly one. Of course Eddie’s only Upside Down encounter would be the one that almost took him out. Even baby Wheeler hasn’t been this close to Death’s door. There was no reason for these former classmates to care this much. And yet they practically never left his side. He’d like to complain about it, but them helping out had taken a lot of the pressure off of Wayne’s shoulders, and that was the most important part of it for Eddie

If you told Eddie a year ago he’d be becoming close with King Steve himself he probably would’ve hissed at someone or just spoke some broken latin and let the general pop believe he was a demon. In hindsight that didn’t make it easier for Hawkins to believe he wasn’t a satanic serial killer. The point is he’s not supposed to be friends with people like Steve. Robin he gets, they make sense. His friendship with Nancy was surprising but after getting to know she was a complete and major dork, they clicked in a really cool way. But Steve? Steve was funny in a way that was different from anyone else Eddie knew. Steve cooked for him and his uncle during the toughest part of Eddie’s recovery, not well, but it was hot and filling. Steve held him as he cried from nightmares and when he was completely exhausted from his physical therapy appointments.

Eddie was in love with him and completely fucked.

***

The June heat was sweltering, Wayne was on a fishing trip, it was one of the first nights being left to his own devices since he could get around a lot better now. He was spending his solitude getting acquainted with his Darling, since his Sweetheart was destroyed and honestly now associated too much with death and near death experiences alike. The phone rings, Eddie grunts, stands and makes his way over to the phone, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to get there with his aching knee, but he manages.

Before he could even get out a greeting the caller was already speaking, “Eddie hi! Hey Eddie, it’s me. Um me being Steve. Harrington. Shit you probably knew that–”

“Stevie, you have a shift with Robs today?” Eddie grabs a bit of hair to twist around his finger, lip bitten to hide his smile. No one’s home but him whose he trying to fool? Himself mostly. It’ll go away repeats in his head over and over waiting for Steve’s reply.

Steve chuckles into the line, Eddie’s heart is about to burst out of his chest Alien style. “Yeah we did have a shift together which I guess explains my totally out of character rambling. Don’t let that keep you from remembering what a cool and not dorky guy I am.”

“Hm sorry, but that’s not ringin’ any bells over here sweetheart, you sure we’re talking bout the same Steve? Steve Harrington? You know the major dork who babysits all these kinda freak kids who are definitely too old for babysitters?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart? Did he really just call his strictly platonic, straight friend sweetheart? It takes all of Eddie’s self control (which is admittedly extremely low already) not to brain himself with the heavy phone receiver.

Steve laughs a real genuine laugh at that. The rollercoaster of emotions Eddie is navigating through is enough to make his stomach hurt. “Apparently one in the same then.” He quiets after another small chuckle, and takes a deep breath, “Listen Eds I was wondering if you wanted to get out of the house for a bit? With me?“

"You know I actually am capable of taking care of myself for a few days even without a babysitter on standby? Just because Wayne’s not home doesn’t mean I’m about to croak in the night” Eddie huffed suddenly annoyed.

Steve lets out a tired sigh. Eddie’s gut twists in guilt at the sound. “Yeah I know that you drama queen, but um my parents are home actually. For once, and I. I just don’t want to be here tonight.” His voice goes even quieter, softer now, and filled with shyness, “I like spending time with you Eddie, even when I don’t have to make sure you aren’t dying in your sleep.”

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” Eddie goes for casual, he doesn’t think it works, given how fast the words leave his mouth.

***

If he didn’t die and come back a few months before today, he’d surely think he’s dead, or at least dreaming this moment, he’d sooner believe in a hell dimension… Damn he’s gotta get a new improbable scenario to describe the insane situation this moment absolutely is.

Okay so maybe it’s not as improbable as he’s making it out to be. Because obviously it is indeed happening.

Every summer Eddie always feels like a drowned rat, which is true today. His hair is frizzing everywhere, just sitting is causing him to sweat profusely. Steve however looks the best he’s ever looked, golden skin, perfect hair, his sun kissed face bringing out his freckles. He wants to reach out and touch, to stop himself he grabs his rubs at the twinge in his left knee. Steve clocks that action annoyingly quick. Maybe if he’s lucky Steve won’t call attention to it.

And because he’s a Munson the universe holds a giant middle finger to his prayers.“

How’s your knee today?” Steve asks him obviously trying to make it sound like a casual question, when they both know this is a long standing argument neither is backing down from.

Since he came home from the hospital Wayne and Steve have been conspiring to get him to use a cane. Which okay. Whatever. But at what point was using the cane just admitting defeat? He’s supposed to be getting better. Is getting better. Adding a cane to the mix was like adding a crutch (ironic but it emphasizes the point) he didn’t want or need. So sure, sometimes there will be days he can barely get out of bed to take a piss, but maybe if he kept at it, he’d be able to play, and jump around on stage like he’s always dreamed of.

“Fine, Steven,” Eddie bites out, because he’s nothing if not petulant.

Steve barks a laugh, Eddie’s heart drops into his ass, “Aw c’mon don’t Steven me, I just told you my parents are home.” He pouts but his eyes are shining so brightly with mirth.

Eddie scoffs and takes a piece of his hair to give his fingers something not stupid to do, like grabbing Steve’s lip and giving it a tug. “Yeah, I know, you good though? Or should I go grab Nancy for a little chat with good ol Rich Harrington?”

“Oh my god, you’re a menace. Did you know that?” Deflecting, Eddie notices.

“It’s been mentioned, alongside satanic cult leading murderer, but you know I get menace every now and then.

”Steve’s brows furrow, he looks at Eddie almost like he’s searching for something, he must’ve found it because he shakes his head and moves their conversation along, “Well I happen to know you’re innocent, and I also know your dinner order at Flo’s place. One grilled cheese with tomato, pickle on the side, curly fries, and mostly because I think you’re special, a strawberry and mint chocolate chip milkshake.” He holds the cup and wags it a little before putting it in what has become Eddie’s dedicated cup holder.

Eddie gasped, and his eyes started to take up most of his face, “No fucking way man, there’s no way you swung that. I’ve been begging Flo to do that for years! How the hell did you manage that?”

“Okay so I know this totally sounds like a cool line but I promise you it's the truth, but Eds, if I told you I’d have to kill you, then probably myself.” Eddie starts to laugh and Steve can only roll his eyes. “Flo is scary dude!”

“Says Hawkins residential monster hunter, huh a little waitress is scarier than a full grown Demogorgan?”

“No contest! I’d even take the junkyard ‘dogs’ a hundred times over before double crossing Florence Foster. And anyone who says otherwise has a death wish.” Steve starts pulling out his own dinner, his sun pink cheeks matching the setting sun. He must catch Eddie staring because he clears his throat and gestures for Eddie to fiddle with the radio.

It takes him a few minutes to settle on a station, but then he just ends up on his go to metal station. 102.9 The Metal Shop hosted by none other than the annoying Master Metal. Like seriously, he couldn’t come up with anything better? But it gets the job done. Plus it’s normie enough that Steve’s able to tolerate and even like some of it.

So they talk, and the night is warm but there’s a breeze now so they’re able to roll their windows down. Steve’s hair is lightly blowing around every few gusts. He looks so beautiful, and Eddie can feel his cheeks getting hot, he’s choosing to blame it on the heat. He’s also choosing to believe the swooping feeling in his gut every time Steve laughs is due to the greasy take out.

Before he can start believing in any other of his made up bullshit Master Metal cuts in declaring that for the next sixty minutes will be the dreaded Dedication Hour. He groans and goes to change it, but his wrist is now caught in Steve’s hand.

“What’s your problem? You love this station.” And Steve’s head is tilted in that way where he looks exactly like a dog in one of those shelter commercials.

Eddie is kind of baffled by this whole interaction, so he says exactly what his problem is, “Yeah of course I do, but it’s the Dedication Hour, they’re going to play the same bullshit non metal love songs, because people think they have a better chance to get their song on than all the other appropriate stations for their pedestrian tastes. No offense I'm sure that’s very much up your alley Romeo. You got a song on there for one of your many conquests eh Casanova?” Jesus Christ, even he knows he’s laying it on thick.

“First gross don’t call them conquests ,” He throws a fry at Eddie’s face, who in turn picks it up and dips it into his milkshake and laughs at the revolted face Steve makes. “Second, no I didn’t. That’s too romantic, maybe I would've for Nancy, but that wasn’t really her thing anyway.” His eyes stay on his hands, he takes a shaky breath, looks up at Eddie through his lashes. “Eds I’ve got a confession.”

All of the air gets punched right out of his lungs, he has to basically wheeze out an okay Stevie, eyes hopefully conveying to Steve to continue.

Steve sighs, tan hand scrubbing at his jaw, clearly nervous. He’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “My parents aren’t home Eddie.” He pauses, in that pause Eddie’s heart crumbles of course that’s what it is. So he’ll sweep up his heart to be put back together much later, and instead comfort his friend. Because at the end of the day, as much as he wants Steve, he’ll also take what he can get, so if Steve only ever offers friendship he will happily take it.

“Oh Stevie–”

“I just wanted to spend time with you Eddie, and I thought if I told you I needed a distraction from my shitty parents, it would’ve hid what I want to say, what I’ve wanted to say since fucking April.” He’s running a hand through his hair, completely flushed now. He’s never been more beautiful.

For the first time in his life Eddie doesn’t feel the need to run in order to avoid inevitlby fucking up what could be a good thing, a great thing. “Eddie Munson, I am so unbelievably infatuated with you, I want to kiss you so fucking badly baby, and and if I’m overstepping you’ve got to tell me Eddie because I’m two seconds away from just doing it even if you end up punching me.” His hand comes up, his thumb brushes away tears Eddie didn’t even know he was shedding.

“Steve Harrington, you are something special.” With a watery laugh Eddie’s hands are now cupping Steve’s face, his eyes are taking in every single detail, before he knows it they are both leaning in.

The kiss is soft, slow, and more tender than it has any right to be. They both took their time, afraid to break this delicate bubble they found themselves. This goes on for a few minutes longer until Steve, reluctantly, and annoyingly pulls away. Eddie huffs, and Steve has the nerve to fucking giggle.

Grabbing Eddie’s hand, he plays with the rings on his fingers, “I have one more thing to say.” He is quiet now, almost shy as if they weren’t just swapping spit two seconds ago. “Um so, this isn’t a casual thing for me Eddie. I like you in the way, where this has the potential for me to be forever, and I don’t want to lose you for being too much too fast, but this is something I can’t negotiate on. If we do this, it has to be the real thing. And if you don’t feel the same, we can forget this and pretend I didn’t ruin our friendship.

Eddie’s shocked that Steve could think he wouldn’t, couldn’t, feel the exact same way, if not more. “I don’t want to forget this Steve, this could be my forever too, I want it to be forever. I think we should do this, I’m all in big boy.”

They laugh, they kiss, and eventually Dedication Hour is over. Hand on his sore knee rubbing soothing circles that ease the pain a bit, Steve suggests going back to Eddie’s to have a real adult conversation about what they’re starting. To which Eddie agrees so long as after they’re done talking they can have an adult conversation with their bodies, and Steve pushes him back in his seat rolling his eyes before enthusiastically agreeing.

December 1986

It’s freezing out and yet Eddie couldn’t be warmer if he tried. There they sat in Eddie’s van, two pizza boxes between them, because according to Steve, Eddie’s preferred pizza toppings are abhorrent. Eddie has tried to argue but almost everyone he knows complains about his pineapple, peperoni, and mushroom pizza. A heavenly combination, especially when he compares it to Steve’s ham and extra olive monstrosity.

“You know babe, when I said we should grab dinner tonight, I was thinking something a little, I don’t know… balanced.” Steve sighed, while shoveling another bite in his mouth Eddie notices. Eyes squinting at his boyfriend’s hypocrisy.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, “Steve, Stevie, Sweetheart. It’s Pizza Hut, it even has a salad bar.”

“Eds we got takeout.” Steve deadpans.

“Yeah but the salad is out in the open air getting its nutrients on the pizzas by osmosis.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Eddie asks, feigning shock. “Don’t forget I’ve taken biology three times.”

“Even if you were right, this definitely is not covered under biology.”

“Well what the hell do I know anyways? I had to take biology three times.”

“Oh my god.” Steve’s trying to sound annoyed but the fond smile on his face is betraying him.

Seeing that look on Steve’s face nearly melts Eddie. In the last six months of dating Eddie’s sap meter has gone way up, and like the sap he’s turned into (ignoring the fact Wayne keeps wrongly insisting Eddie has always been a sap) he can’t help but lean into it. Steve makes him want to be that guy, that boyfriend. Which is why Eddie set up this whole night.

Eddie spent his whole childhood being told by his sperm donor that the Munson Curse existed and that’s why their lives were so bad. Absolutely nothing to do with Al’s poor life choices, that long effected his son even after getting locked up. But nights like this, with the snow falling, with Steve’s pink cheeks, and warm laugh, it has to mean something. It has to be the universe’s way of apologizing for all the bad shit. His mom dying, his ‘dad’ being a piece of shit, his near interdimensional death, having to now use a cane to get around, and not to mention all of the horrible stuff Steve’s been through, maybe it all wasn’t in vain.

So maybe the universe wasn’t so bad. It’s not great, every day is still a fucking struggle to get through. But the man next to him, made the hurt a little more dull.

The low radio pulls Eddie back to the present. Master Metal in the middle of announcing the dedication hour, when in the corner of his eye he sees Steve hands reach to change the station. Without thinking Eddie grabs Steve’s hands and entwines their fingers.

Steve turns toward Eddie, brows lifting with a questioning tilt. “I think I’ll survive one night of cheesy love songs sweetheart.”

“Uh huh, who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I contain multitudes.”

“Since when?”

“April.” Which silences Steve who is very much biting his lip to avoid smiling.

In the brief silence that follows their conversation Master Metal is speaking again, “And now for the first dedication. For Big Boy,” Steve’s eyes shoot to Eddie, he goes to speak but Eddie just squeezes his hand, and whatever Steve was about to say dies on his tongue. “The last six months have been the best of my life. The fact that I’m even still alive is all because of you with the help of the family we’ve been able to build together. I love you, with every fiber in my being. I used to be so scared of loving anyone, running at the first sign of a good thing, but you are the best thing, the only thing. And I’m done running, so I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me, even while trekking back into Mordor. Love forever and always Joan Jett. Now here’s Journey’s 1982 hit Open Arms. ”

Steve is crying, big, fat tears, looking at Eddie almost in disbelief. He takes a grounding breath before frantically throwing the pizza boxes in the back. With the boxes out of the way Eddie finds himself with a lap full of Steve, which he’d never complain about.

With a hand gently stroking Eddie’s hair, and the other hand cupping his jaw, Steve leans in and gives Eddie’s forehead a kiss. Then both his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, finally his lips. Steve basically breathes his next words, “I love you too, so fucking much.” A pause, then a smirk flashes across his face, “Joan.”

Eddie’s eyes are now misty, but that doesn’t stop him from groaning at Steve’s response. “I confess my love for you and you tease me for my alias. For shame Steven for shame.”

“You’re right I’m sorry, this is genuinely the most romantic thing anyone has done for me you know.”

“I know it baby, but you Steve Harrington, you deserve all the big gestures. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving to you just how easy you are to love.”

Steve doesn’t even say anything to that, just lets his body do the talking, he’s attempting to pour in every last bit of his love for Eddie into the kiss, while not so subtly tugging his boyfriend into the back of the van.

Eddie’s laughing again, “No way gorgeous, I’m taking you home so I can show you just how much I love you. We are not going to defile the van after confessing our love to one another.”

“When did you become sensible?”

“I’ve been keeping company with some good influences.”

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

[aemonds-little-belle]

Feelings Sold Separately

CHAPTER EIGHT (THE FRIDGE)

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

TAGS - (REPOSTED FROM AO3)

Alternate Universe - Sugar DaddySugar BabySugar Baby AUAUokay this is a whole ass story that's just one long ass brain fartliterally i am just coming up with this on the spotlow key really love it thoughSugar Baby/Sugar Daddyobviouslytalks of class issuesaemonds been hurt in the pasti think there will be some sexy stuff eventuallywait fuck i didn't mention this is a modern!aumodern!AUAlternate Universe - Modern Setting&lt;3Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen is Bad at Feelingsstop that was recommended but so accurateI don't know how to do tagsI'm SorryI promise it's goodAnd no one diesand it's just so classically a sugar baby/ sugar daddy au it hurtsreader works at a cafe ... obviouslythis will follow a similar storyline to the show just modern and also not at allFamily Issueswait probably dom/sub vibes tooDom/subLight Dom/subclearly i don't know where this is going yetmy readers are always written fat because i am fatso keep that in mindSlow Burnit's so slowbut I think it's greatlike genuinely two idiots in lovebut they take soooo long to noticeUghI love fanfiction

NOTES - (REPOSTED FROM AO3) -

This chapter will begin to dip into the more serious side of sugar baby/sugar daddy tropes, such as talk of money being needed for more than just clothing. The last chapter, and this one too, signal a sort of change between the two characters, they've grown closer over the past day, / last a billion chapters I'm sorry I don't know why I made it slow burn! So do know the story will begin to grow now, the pace may get quicker, and Dom/Sub vibes, though very minimal, will begin to pick up. That's all! Just a little heads up! ALSO, get your glasses, some water, and a snack, they finally get into a fight ...

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG!

+ + + + + +

The grocery store was huge and unfamiliar, the overhead light cool and bright, a stark contrast to Y/n’s favorite little market down the road from her apartment. Plus this store had a huge selection of things she had never heard of, things she didn’t know if she even wanted to try, like the fruit some woman was holding, the colour strange, texture clearly unpleasant. “Ready?” Aemond asked, a large cart in tow.

“I don’t need that much stuff, a basket would be better.” Y/n began looking around, trying to find where they kept their baskets, though from how fancy the store was she wouldn’t be surprised if they came with a personal shopper too.

“We’re fine, come on.” Aemond said in a reassuring tone, noticing Y/n’s sudden anxious wave, her panic to make everything work perfect taking over, his hand settling on her back to comfort her. “What do you need to get?” He asked, his tone one she hadn’t had the chance to hear, the softness in it, the genuine care he was giving, it was new, but she needed it.

“Um, some bread, and crackers.” She answered quickly.

“That’s it?” He asked, confused, the last time she seemed to make this errand seem like something so long and boring Aemond wouldn’t even want to go.

“I guess maybe some juice too.” Y/n’s eyes seemed to meet every person who passed them, assessing them, making sure they weren’t doing the same to her.

“Y/n, look at me.” Aemond huffed slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yah I’m fine.” She didn’t seem so sure. “I promise, I just want to get home, really, no big deal.” Aemond didn’t believe her, but knew he had to learn to trust her, just like she was learning with him.

+

Aemond and Y/n stood awkwardly outside her building, bags in each of their hands, though not a lot, Aemond had convinced Y/n to buy a few extra things at the grocery store. “Are you going to open the door?” He asked, looking to her, her looking away.

“I can bring them all up on my own, it's okay.” Y/n smiled, one that she didn’t mean, the gesture hardley meeting her eyes.

“That’s not going to happen, little dragon, I’m sure you're strong but your building has no elevator.” He smirked, one she would have regularly enjoyed, but not in this moment. ‘How does he even know I don’t have an elevator here?’ Y/n just took a few steps towards the main door, her key meeting the lock, the stairs only steps away.

“Just be careful, the stairs can be tricky sometimes.” She mumbled, her chest growing heavier and heavier the further they got. The third floor hallway had even dimmer lights than the last two, the doors worn, beige walls stained with time. “You can just leave the bags there.”

“Y/n!” An old lady's voice shouted.

“Hi Miss Falker.” Y/n smiled.

“Your fridge, young lady!” Miss Falker pointed to her. “I thought you got it fixed, the noise is driving me nuts.”

“I know.”

“Just.” The lady seemed to take a sudden stance of pity. “Make sure you and your Targaryen wannabe keep quiet.” And With that she walked away, a door slamming to the left, Y/n’s giggle quietly drowning the sound out.

Aemond had a stunned look on his face, his lips turned into a smile. “She’s nice.”

Y/n laughed a little louder, Aemond happy to see the slight sparkle back in her eye. “She is, sometimes. Other times she can be a little.” Y/n tilted her hand side to side.

“Why don’t I take a look at your fridge?” Aemond offered, still holding bags, not giving up his want to see her apartment.

“It’s not making a noise, I promise.” Y/n unlocked her door. “Mr Bayle lives on the other side of Miss Flaker, it’s his fridge that’s making the noise, I just don’t want there to be more drama than necessary.” She explained, still not actually opening the door. “You can go take a look at his fridge if you want?” She playfully offered. Aemond just ignored her, placing his hand over hers and turning the doorknob.

The studio apartment was small, the kitchen dated, though he enjoyed the little window ledge with a built-in bookcase under it. It was quite empty, only a few things here and there, a total of four books under the window, a couple lamps, a small plant sat beside her bed, and some t-shirts scattered on the floor, though the sun had gone down quite a bit, so everything was heavily shaded. “Um, well, yah, thank you for today.” Y/n rushed, she seemed antsy, a state Aemond didn’t wish to leave her in.

“What books do you have?” He asked pointing to the bookshelf, his head swiveling, looking for a light switch.

“Poetry by the great ..” A *click* could be heard but nothing happened, then another *click*. “The light switch is just a little finicky.” Y/n tried to explain, Aemond shook his head, finally putting two and two together, he walked towards the fridge, hearing Y/n mutter a quiet ‘Aemond’ under her breath. When the door opened he was met with empty shelves, no light, and the sound of Y/n sniffling in the background.

“Y/n” He hummed, almost angry.

“It might just be a power outage, I …” Her voice was shaky, though she tried to hold it together.

“You told me your pay at the cafe covered rent, groceries, and your utilities.” He wasn’t sure what to feel, he was angry she lied, but more mad at himself for not checking.

“It does, I promise.” She took a step back, hiding from him, herself, the goddamn fridge at this point. “It’s just, the fridge was making a weird noise and.” She paused to sniffle again. “And the guy charged me more than I could afford, I, just, it threw me off a bit that’s all.” Y/n’s shoulders collapsed in on one another, he could pay her a thousand dollars a minute and not even falter, she couldn’t even scramble an extra two hundred in time to pay her bills. She wished she could confidently think he wasn’t going to mock her, or say something mean, but she didn’t know, she had no idea how he would react. What if he thought she needed him too much? What if this was his last straw? What if she’s just too different for him? “It’s really not a big deal.” She tried to reason, her mind already pitting Aemond against her.

“Not a big deal?” Aemond shut the fridge door a little too loudly. “Little dragon, it is cold as ice in here, you have no food in the fridge, how are you even charging your phone?” Then it clicked, she ran earlier, she couldn’t call him, her phone must have died, she was in the mall stranded, with a dead phone, and he left her there, to fend on her own. “Your phone died?” He asked, his tone softer, no wonder she seemed off throughout the day. Every time something remotely related to the power came up she hid again. This morning, she cut her words off, changed the subject when she mentioned the fridge noise, her phone was dead and she couldn’t call him, causing her to face the situation again, the grocery store. “You didn’t get anything that needed to go in your fridge, you don’t have anything that needs to be cooked.” He felt his own heart racing, he knew why she didn’t tell him, it’s a vulnerable thing to tell someone you just met, but he should have known, he’s supposed to know. “How long? How long have you been living like this?”

“Four days.” Y/n barely whispered.

“You could have asked for help.” Aemond sighed.

“Could I?” Y/n cried. “I didn’t want you to look down on me, or, or be mad at me.” Tears were falling down her cheeks at this point, her chest heaving slightly. “I didn’t have a choice! My fridge needed to be fixed, sacrifices had to be made, that’s how the real world works Aemond!” She knew her words might sting, but she couldn’t stand silent as he asked her such obvious questions.

Aemond stormed out of her apartment, the door still open as he ran down the stairs, Y/n just stayed still, crying, she didn’t want him to see this, she hated herself for letting him in, yet she knew he would get here eventually, see how different they are, see how he lives in a totally different world. Suddenly all she could hear was banging from below, fist banging on a door and then yelling. “Are you the guy that runs this place?” She could hear Aemond’s voice, the idea of him yelling at the man she depended on for a roof over her head made her stomach churn, her moving to go downstairs to stop whatever was happening, move on. Aemond seemed to know she was coming. “Y/n? How much do you owe this man?” Aemond didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of him, no doubt scaring him into submission.

“Two hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred, missy.” The guy stepped to the side to point at her, like she had just thrown him under the bus. Aemond wasted no time pulling on the guy’s shirt, forcing him to stand in front of him, to look at him, in his terrifying targaryen stance, money practically dripping from him like sweat would.

“I gave you a hundred last night, Gunner!” Aemond hated the way she said it, like she had pleaded with him before, like he had tried, and probably, scammed her before, though this time she clearly had backup.

Aemond chuckled lowly, letting the man go, reaching into his suit pants and pulling out his wallet, a wad of cash in hand as he carefully, and slowly, just to prove how much money he had, ‘seriously?’,counted each bill before handing Gunner the money. “Two hundred.” Aemond spat, his hair a little messy, his shirt buttons hanging on for dear life as he heaved breaths in and out, the true picture of a deranged, ‘hot’, man willing to do anything for his girl.

Y/n began walking back up to her apartment, expecting Aemond to walk out and not turn back, a kind gesture and no goodbye. But before she could close her apartment door he walked in behind her, watching as the lights finally turned on, a small whizzing noise passing through, signaling electricity, water flowing through the pipes again. “You didn’t have to do that.” Y/n mumbled, waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for him to walk out.

Aemond huffed. “This entire arrangement I have told you to rely on me, to let yourself need me. I don’t care how many times I have to say it again. Of course I am here to spoil you, sure, but I’m also here to keep you safe, protect you, keep you out of danger, make sure you have fucking power Y/n!” Y/n hadn’t seen him like this before, part of her shocked he had this side, the other half widely attracted to him. “That’s what’s important.” His hands were on his hips now, he looked like a mother out of breath, like he just did a zumba class, though he was really just exhausted from holding in the want, ‘need’, to punch Gunner in the face. “I am happy you let me buy you things today, shoes, clothes, some bread.” He looked at the bag full of pitiful snacks. “But this is what matters, your well being.”

“I just thought ...”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t think next time, just ask.” ‘I will give you the world, the air from my lungs.’ “Just ask.” His words were breathy, low, and serious. “You want to make me happy? Pay me back?” ‘You don’t have to.’ She nodded her head. “You’re going to charge your phone, eat some food, and you’re going to go to sleep.” Aemond picked up the bag of food from the floor, setting it on the small island space to his right, taking out the things and laying them out nicely. “Do you have any allergies?”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, she hadn’t really had the chance to go out, try the foods of the world, and see if any decided to close her throat up, and it wasn’t something she felt the need to do. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to buy you some groceries and make you some proper breakfast in the morning.” Aemond shook his head. “All you ate today was a bagel! I didn't even think to stop and pick something up.” He couldn’t help but beat himself up, he knew she wouldn’t ask for things, he knew he needed to take the lead, and yet he was struggling, and his failure was eating him from the inside out.

“I actually ate a few crackers when you were putting the cart away.” Y/n’s sassy voice, though much more diluted, rang through the room.

Aemond chuckled, looking to the ceiling. ‘Gods help me, she’s going to be the death of me. I don’t mind’. “Tomorrow you start asking for things, and tomorrow I make sure my focus is you.” He turned around to face her.

“You seemed to look at me alot for someone who wasn’t focused on me.” Y/n’s fingers were once again anxiously playing with one another, her mind still swirling.

“And you seemed to look at my hands alot for someone who wouldn’t ask to hold them.” Aemond quipped back, Y/n cracking a genuine smile, one he could never get sick of. “So do we have a deal?” He asked, Y/n nodding her head.

“Yes, I’ll start asking for things, I promise.” Y/n nodded her head, her smile still lingering. “But, Aemond, your money isn’t going to fix every problem I have, I’m not your responsibility.” She added. “You shouldn’t put all this weight on your shoulders, I’m okay, I can take care of myself, I promise.”

“You don’t have a great record of doing so, Y/n.”

She huffed. “I have made it all these years without you, Aemond, I can certainly keep going.”

“But you don’t have to.”

“And I know that now.” She explained, looking at the light above her. “But you don’t have to defend my honour.” ‘I want to.’ “I’m your sugar baby, you don’t need to turn your life upside down for me.” ‘I will anyway.’

Aemond’s heart seemed to stop, was this her setting up boundaries? Did she want him to back off? Step away? Treat her like she meant less to him? Because she didn’t, how was he supposed to get that across? She, even though it had only been four days, meant everything to him. “I know my money isn’t going to solve all your problems.” He admitted, leaning against her counter, his arms crossed against his chest, the damned, ‘gods sent’, tattoo on full display. “But I have power in political and corporate worlds, I have multiple university degrees, my family is practically royalty, and last time I checked most people find me terrifying.” He chuckled slightly. “Other than Miss Falker.” Y/n laughed with him then. “So stop thinking you have to do everything on your own, I have every base covered, I can fix anything, even your neighbors fridge if it bothers you too much.” ‘Do I sound like I’m begging?’ “So stop pushing me away.”

“We’ll see.” Y/n pretended to hold her head high, the leftover tear stains making her look of pride falter.

“We’ll see?” Aemond adjusted his arms, tightening them, his forearms flexing, Y/n trying not to stare.

“It’s a big ask, Aemond, I’m only one person.”

“I thought you wanted to change the world?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Stop bringing that up!” Y/n raised her hands in defeat. “I will try to let you help.” She bit back her desire to take the words back.

“Y/n!” Miss Falker could be heard from outside the apartment. “Get that bleach blonde boy out of here before I do it myself!”

Y/n hummed. “You interrupted her TV time.” She giggled slightly.

“Her what?”

“He’s too loud, I couldn’t hear the damn TV!” Miss Falker yelled, as if on cue.

“He’s just leaving Miss F, I promise!”

“You’re pretty enough Y/n.” She yelled back. “You could get a real Targaryen boy, you deserve one.”

Y/n looked to Aemond, who had a mixed look of amusement and pure rage lingering on his features, his hair every which way, clearly not a man to mess with, and yet Miss Falker was ripping him to shreds. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”