#trying to clean out some drawers to pack more stuff

[humanmorph]

i have gottttt to stop going "well i could use this for an art project" about every little thing. i am not even doing those often enough for that to be warranted

[whoslaurapalmer]

i should go to bed it is Time to go to bed and yet. i am looking around the house going what else can i put in a box before i go to bed

[spencereidluver]

L is for Lover Boy

december 14, 2008

summary:  After you have to drive back to your apartment for the third time in two days to get stuff, Spencer clears out two drawers in his dresser for you while you're gone and can't wait to show you.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: just lots of fluff and spence being a good bf

“No, don’t go,” Spencer says as he gently claws at your hips trying to pull you back into him. You were cuddled up with him on the sofa in his living room watching some documentary he’d put on. This was your third day at Spencer’s house, having come over Friday after work and spending the night, then being begged not to leave, so after paying a quick visit to your home in order to get a toothbrush, clothes, and anything else your heart desired, you returned to Spencer’s apartment for a second night. 

“Spencer, baby, I have to,” you try to pry his hands from your hips, though he is a lot stronger than he looks. He gets a hold of you, pulling you onto his lap. He starts to tickle your ribs, making you hunch over him. You try to push his hands away, but ultimately fail as you yell his name between giggles.

“Stay and I’ll stop,” he smiles into your neck. 

“One more night,” you say and grab his wrists in order to calm his movements. “But I have to go home and get work clothes, so let me go.”

He pouts, but obliges. It’s so hard to tell such a sweet boy no, plus falling asleep in his arms every night is something you could see yourself getting used to.

“Fine, but hurry. I want to cuddle,” he sighs.

You lean down, planting a kiss on his forehead and fluffing his hair with your fingers. “I love you, Spencie,” you say. “I love you.”

You trudge to the door of his apartment, slipping your shoes and coat on and grabbing your keys. “I’ll be back,” you call out to Spencer before you exit the apartment and make your way to the stairs and out to your car.

_____

At your apartment, you grabbed the one clean work outfit you still had and tossed it over your shoulder. You’d been at Spencer’s place so much recently you hadn’t done laundry in weeks. He was gonna be sad when you broke the news that tonight was the last night. For now anyways. You loved staying with Spencer… The only issue was all your stuff was at your house. 

You studied the walls of your apartment. How was it that a place you’d been so comfortable in for so long had become barren? How was it that Spencer’s presence is truly what made you feel at home? You neared the entryway of your unit, letting your fingers track on the surface of the wooden table to the side of the door. You brought your hand up to your eye level: Dust. Your apartment had sat empty for so long that even the most communal surfaces had become neglected. Normally you’d stop to wipe the dust clean, but right now, all that was filling your consciousness was returning to Spencer. You grabbed the pack of gum off the dust-covered table and clenched your keys in your fist. You rush out the door of your apartment and head straight for the elevator. 

_____

You’re practically tripping over your own feet as you rush back into Spencer’s apartment complex. You take the stairs as you don’t see waiting on the elevator as time efficient since you’re only going up to the second floor. As you approach his unit, you slow your steps, careful not to alarm any of the tenets. You reach his door, shuffling the items in your hands in order to knock. Two hits of your fist on the wood and the golden number “twenty-three” is replaced by a smiling Spencer Reid. 

“Hey Spence,” you say, handing over the bag in your arms as he’d grabbed the strap, signaling he wanted to take it from you. He was always chivalrous: opening doors, wrapping you in his sweaters, buying you flowers, and this was another example of such. He always carried your bag for you, even if he had his own. If there was anything Spencer could do to make your day the slightest bit simpler, he was jumping to it. His world revolved around making you happy. And he did a damn good job of it. 

“Hi, how was your apartment?” He asked as he stepped aside so you could enter his. He followed you, shutting the door and turning the lock behind him. 

“It was alright,” you said. “Just how I left it.” You watched as he placed your bag gently on the counter. He was always extremely gentle with your things, even if he didn’t need to be. He cared as much for your things as he did for you, and treated all things, great or small, as if they were as delicate as his love for you. 

“That’s good, I’m glad no one had intruded in your absence.” He turned his attention away from the direction of the counter and toward you. His eyes focused on your face, studying you. “Hey, I want to show you something,” he said as he brought his hand up to meet your waist. He pulled you into a hug, letting his hands linger on you after you’d pulled back. He stared at you for a moment before pulling you back into him, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was rough- like getting hit by a bus. A very pleasant bus, but a bus nonetheless. His hands gripped on your waist, surely leaving marks, as his lips moved feverishly into yours. 

You giggled into his kiss, pushing him away gently by his chest. He gives a small pout which makes you feel a bit bad, so you lean to give him one last small peck. He smiles. 

“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks forming a light blush, “I just love you.” His hands fall from your waist. He shuffles to the front of you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him as he leads you to his bedroom. 

“I love you, Spence,” you say while trailing behind him. “So much. Now, what are you showing me?” He drops your hand as you enter his room, moving it to the small of your back and giving you a slight shove in the direction of one of his closet.

Spencer’s closet was a small room jutting out of the wall adjacent to the door. In it was a six drawer chest, a floor mirror, and a horizontal rod that harbored his polo shirts, sweaters, and suit jackets. In front of the mirror sat his three pairs of shoes- his black converse, his brown leather dress shoes, and his black suede dress shoes. Typically, his converse were just thrown in front, as they were his most common choice and he didn’t see the effort to put them back nicely every single time was worth it. You took notice of the fact that they were set up nicely like the two pairs of dress shoes, him even having tied them to make it more visually appealing. You also noticed the knickknacks he had atop his dresser had been rearranged, and some books had been relocated from somewhere. 

“You cleaned your closet!” you said, reaching out to fondle the Curta calculator that was placed on the edge of the dresser. 

“I did,” he responded, still having ahold of your back. “Open the bottom drawers.” 

You were a bit confused. Why was he giving you a closet tour? What could possibly be so intriguing about the contents of these drawers that he had to give you the rundown? You obliged nonetheless, partially because you were curious, but mostly because you could sense his excitement and knew this was a big thing for him. 

Leaning down to grab the parallel knobs on the very bottom drawer, you braced for something slightly heavy, a wooden drawer filled with clothing, but were taken aback when the drawer practically flew open. It was empty. You were confused. Was he getting a head start on spring cleaning? Maybe you just opened the wrong drawer. You silently opened the next drawer up, it being empty as well.

You stood and faced Spencer who had a big goofy grin on his face. You furrowed your brows at him, softening your voice to say, “I’m confused.”

“It's for you,” he said, still with his dorky smile. “I just thought, since you’ve been staying here so often, and I really hate to have you traveling to and from your apartment for five minutes every other day, maybe you could store some of your clothes and things here.”

“Spencer, I-”

You must’ve had a passive tone because his smile faded as the words fell out your mouth.

“I-if you don’t want to then I understand, I know we really just started dating and rushing things is statistically bad for relationships, and I’m n-not saying you should move in with me, I just-”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him, desperate to save him from his pointless embarrassment. His eyes are wide as he looks down at you, almost as if he’s pleading. “Spence, this is so sweet,” you say, “it’s perfect.”

His smile, though more calm this time, returns. “Really?” he asks.

“Really. Such a good idea too.” You ruffle his hair. “I love you.”

His smile widens, his eyes squinting from the contortion of his cheeks. 

He can barely spit out an “I love you too,” before his expression changes to one of remembrance. 

“Oh!” he exclaims, “I also took my books out of this nightstand, you can put stuff in there too.” He gestured to the nightstand on the closet side- the right side- your side- of the bed.

‘That’s where those books on the dresser came from,’ you thought to yourself. You glance at the bed, noticing that he’d not only done your laundry, but also folded your clothes and separated them by outfits for you. 

“Wow,” you say as your hand grazes the fabric of the folded clothing, “you really didn’t have to do all this, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said, “but I wanted to.” He picks up one of the stacks of your clothing off the bed and carries it the few steps to the closet. “You want to go ahead and put these in here?” He gestures toward the dresser.

“Sure, these can be my ‘Spencer’ clothes!” 

He giggles at your little pun. That was something you loved about Spencer; no matter how bad a joke you made was, he always laughed. Maybe he was just being nice, but it made you feel good, so you weren’t complaining.

_____

You awoke before Spencer for the first time since you’ve been staying over. 

‘Doing all that rearranging last night must’ve really knocked him out,’ you thought.

You lied still in his embrace, careful not to move a muscle. He was lying on his back, left arm tucked underneath you, right draped across your waist. You lied on your stomach, left leg wrapped around his hips, the other down parallel to his. Your head rested on his chest allowing you to hear every breath taken by him. You were worried if you moved even a tiny bit it would stir him awake and this would end. You were far too comfortable in his arms and with your thoughts to do such a thing. 

Unintentionally, you found yourself matching his breathing patterns. You found yourself unintentionally matching a lot of Spencer’s mannerisms as of recently. Granted, you spent almost all your time with him, but you could never have ‘too much’ Spencer Reid. You thought about what he said last night: “I know we really just started dating.” While technically he was correct, it had only been three months since your first date, and a little over two since you guys had become official, it felt like a lifetime with him. Maybe this was because you were just as close before, the only difference now being that you kiss. Sometimes you have to remind yourself this is his first relationship. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you were weary to begin the relationship at first, though now you’re more than happy you did. Spencer has been the best decision of your life. Turning him from your nerdy best friend to the love of your life has been the best decision. He was perfect. 

Spencer stirred beneath you, rolling over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You reached your hand up, tangling it in his hair, and gently ran your nails through his scalp. He brought his knees up toward his chest, now lying in a loose fetal position with his legs tucked into the gap yours left. He was like a baby. Your baby. 

You could hear his breath getting caught in his throat as his body fought to stay asleep. 

“Hey,” you whispered softly into his ear as you let your hand trace down his hairline to cup his jaw. He gave you a small groan in response, being awake but not yet conscious. 

“Spence baby,” you hummed. You tilted his face up toward you while rubbing your thumb back and forth on his sharp jawline. You pressed several small kisses on his forehead. From the way he was leaning into you, it was obvious he was awake. You looked down at him, his eyes still shut.

“G’morning,” Spencer mumbled as his eyes fluttered open and met yours. 

“How’d you sleep?” You brushed a stray piece of hair from in front of his eyes.

“Pretty good. I uh, I had a dream about you.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We were just reading. You know, actually they say when you dream of your partner it means you’re wanting to spend more time with them, which is strange because aside from when you went home for an hour last night we’ve been together for the past 56 hours with no cases as a distraction. That’s the longest time we’ve been together.”

Only Spencer could wake up and immediately start sharing facts.

“Maybe it means you enjoyed the last 56 hours and wish for them to continue, rather than for them to come into existence since they already have.”

He smiles at you, in awe. “That- that’s a really good point.” “You’re not the only smart one, Dr. Reid.” You boop his nose to acknowledge that you’re teasing him. Spencer sometimes struggles with social cues; it doesn’t take a genius to know that. You always try your hardest to do something to let him know you’re just teasing. 

He’s still smiling. “Y/n, you never fail to amaze me.” 

His eyes sparkle in the light. More than usual. A tear falls from his left eye. He’s crying.

You wipe the tear away and grab his chin, lifting up toward you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask, using your soft voice again. Another set of tears falls from his eyes.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” he said, “I just…” His voice hitched. Tears stream down his face seemingly uncontrollably. “I just love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you, Spencer.” You say earnestly, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on his salty, tear soaked, lips. He melted into the kiss instantly, chasing your lips as you pulled away. 

“Please, Y/n. Kiss me,” he said, sitting up to allow easier access. You sat up as well, criss-crossing your legs in front of you to match Spencer. You lean forward, grabbing ahold of his thighs to keep yourself from face planting into him. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s pressing his lips onto yours. You taste his tears with every opening of your mouth. He still has morning breath, you know you do too, but that taste belongs to what you call home. This boy, this bed, this room, this apartment; it's your home.

_____

next chapter: M is for Merry Christmas

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____ BUY ME A COFFEE _____

a/n: hi! long time no see... i'm really sorry for my unannounced absence :( i got really busy with school and work and just had a major burnout. i'm really gonna try to push some stories out for you guys as i really do enjoy writing them and seeing your guys' reaction to them. thank you guys for sticking with me

_____

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 9

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He's on you again. Just like before, you can't stop him. Steve is behind you, an arm hooked beneath you, his other hand nestled against your pelvis as he plucks your clit.

You heave and cling to the pillow beneath your head. He pumps into you as he keeps your leg propped over his. He impales you with sharp snaps only to drag himself out slowly. Your walls are tender and twitching with each torturous thrust.

You swallow your orgasm. Shame sears over you as you squeeze him without meaning to. He grunts and spasms as he cums. Again. You just want it to end.

He's made a mess of more than your bed and body. He's ruined your life. You were just trying to get by. To make an honest living. Now... you don't know what's going to happen.

He buries himself in you and sighs. He relaxes and keeps his arms around you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You lay over him, limp and defeated. His hands rove up and down your body, fondling your chest then kneading your thighs. He's greedy without end.

"You should start packing," he rasps and wiggles his hips. "Mmm, but you feel so good on me."

Your eyes widen as the ceiling and you feel another sheet of tears stinging. Your skin crawls and your heart thumps. He inhales deeply.

"I can hear that," he sits up with you still on him. "You don't have to be scared, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you."

He frames your hips and rocks you in his lap. He purrs and keeps you moving. You whimper at achiness inside of you. You put your hands on his to keep from folding. He nuzzles the back of your head and drones.

"You're so good, feel what you do to me..."

You close your eyes and breathe through the agony. He doesn't stop. He tilts your hips until he tenses. He climaxes again and it drips out onto him. He pets your hair and pulls you to lean against him.

"Let's go home, huh?"

You murmur as shifts you with him to the edge of the bed. He slides you off his length with a groan and stands you up. His cum spills down your leg and you shiver. He grips you a moment longer before letting you go. You reach to wipe your thigh and he tuts.

"Baby, I want you to leave it. I want you wearing me until we get home. We can take a nice bath together and get washed up."

You retract your hand and swallow your disgust. His cum cools to stick streaks and squicks along the creases of your thighs. You don't know if you're more repulsed by him or your own weakness.

"Let's see," he stands and taps your ass lightly as he passes you, "what are you gonna wear?" He slides open your dresser and searches around. He stirs around your panties and shakes his head. "I need to buy you some cute stuff, huh? Maybe some thongs?"

He pulls open the next drawer and the next. He finds a tee shirt dress that doesn't go far past your thighs. You don't really wear it as more than something to be lazy in.

"Here," he tosses it to you.

You stare at him and hug the fabric.

"You don't need a bra, sweetheart," he winks.

You tuck your chin down and pull it over your head. You tug it as far down your legs as you can. He continues to ravage your belongings. You watch him gather things into a bag. Not everything, just what he thinks is necessary.

"Gonna get you new everything," he promises. "To go with your new men."

He smiles at you. You feel faint. He's still naked and completely shameless.

He zips up the slack duffel. You try not to show your distaste. As scared as you are, you're angry too. How can he do this and still act like a hero?

"Stop pouting or I'll have to fuck a smile onto your face," he warns.

Your lips part then you force them to curve. You turn and look around. You find some shoes and step into them. His demeanour tells you, you won't be seeing this place again.

He dresses and groans as he stretches out his neck and shoulders. He hooks the bag on his shoulder and approaches you. He sighs again as he balls then opens his hands.

"I feel good. More... relaxed," he steps into his boots. "I needed that."

You stare at him. You're a disaster. Just like your life. He doesn't seem to care about any of that.

"Come on, sweetheart," he opens the door. "Won't it be nice to be home?"

[lilacstarryskies]

Round 2 Steddie Bingo Promptfill

@steddiebingo

Rated: T

Prompt: Home

WC: 3168

Ao3 link: here!!!

Tags: Getting Together, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Angst

———————

“Fine!”

Steve strutted off, busted face and all, rushing up the garishly pristine stairs of his—well his parent’s home—ready to get the fuck out of here.

It was due time anyway. He was fed up with not just all the nagging, but the general bad demeanour, the demeaning words, the not-even-being-here but making him anxious all the same. And even when his parents were home, the few minutes they used up of their so-called precious time on him were all wasted on awful criticisms, never ever any words that resembled even a sliver of love and affection.

He slammed open the door to his room, the room that was no longer his as of this moment. Even before this, the room was never truly his. It was a facsimile of a personality slathered onto the walls, the shelves and the god awful patterned curtains.

Everything in there wasn’t Steve and it never was, not even representing Steve back in the days where he was a little standoffish asshole to the masses in Hawkins High.

It was more akin to a furniture store’s showrooms, everything too polished and basic, seeming like an average teenage boy's room but with just a hint of something missing.

It was manufactured—fake, to put it simply.

Just like he was.

Though he’d changed, and he heavily respected his own efforts trying to get away from the expectation of his parents, of all the people around him.

Steve mainly respected Nancy, for giving him the big push to not only recognise the assholery beside him, but to take a stand and leave despite the stomach-turning fear born in his childhood years that leaving his friends and no longer following the status quo would make him an outcast.

Besides, he liked outcasts anyway.

The best people he knew were all outcasts who’d be sneered at by the likes of Tommy and Carol, and his parents.

He sometimes missed Tommy and Carol, the sensation felt as if he was missing a vital part of himself, but he recognised that as the years went on, all three of them became twisted individuals filled with underlying hate, no longer the innocent kids they were back in elementary school.

And so he said goodbye to them both, in a fashion very similar to this very

moment, with a sneer plastered on his face and a bruising eye right above it.

Steve’s suitcase was grabbed from right under his bed, half-filled already, what with him having a feeling in the back of his head that something like this would happen sooner or later, and it had.

He still had some stuff to pack up before he was ready to leave his parent’s and despite detesting this place and his parents way of treating him, his stomach curled up with an emotion he could discern to be regret, love, and a form of wanting—wanting his parents attention, wanting them to actually care for their son like all the parents did on the television shows he’d watch as kid, all alone, while his parents were travelling.

He opened up the drawers beside his desk, shoving in all the polos and jeans stuffed in there, messily throwing them in, not caring to keep anything clean like he used to.

His parents were no longer keeping up the pretence of caring for him, so why would he follow their expectations to keep everything prim and proper?

Steve could hear his father, the asshole, shouting downstairs, likely fighting with his mother, who, for all her faults did care for Steve partly and was seen as too ‘lax on the boy’ by good ol’ Richard Harrington II.

He promptly sped up.

The clothes were all in, even his old school varsity jackets were thrown atop everything, but Steve felt like he should have something more.

Was this really all he had?

There was nothing personal that screamed Steve Harrington.

Everything only looked like a typical jock’s room and his closet looked like the average Sears’ catalogue, nothing was solely him.

There were no personalised pictures framed, no loving family or friends behind the glass panes of a picture frame, no personal gifts spread out on his desk, absolutely nothing to note.

Actually, now that he looked, Steve found a few things to note.

Beside his desk lamp was a walkie-talkie, courtesy of Dustin and the rest of the nerds, after they made a whole big deal, instating him into their little gang, making him officially a member of the ‘Upside-Down Crew’ even though he technically was a part of that the year before.

He took that into his hands, smiling at the memory, before adding it to the growing pile of items in his old school backpack, not zipping it up yet.

Steve wasn’t only preparing for this inevitable day of getting kicked out by his parents with just a half-filled suitcase, but monetarily as well.

For every shift of work he’d taken since he was 16 with his small summer lifeguard gig upon being told to ‘be a man’ and get a job by his father, he, even with his little finance and general math skill, knew he had to keep some savings in case of an any emergencies and just to prepare for what life could throw at him.

For every eight-hour shift, he squirrelled away one hour's worth of earnings, knowing that with the privilege of his parents’ money, he could spend his teen years living comfortably off their money, along with seven hours' worth of dollars, even affording to splurge out on some things like the newest skin mags and buying Farrah Fawcett in bulk from his mother’s bi-monthly delivered catalogues.

He had quite a lot of cash stored up in envelopes at the bottom of his underwear drawer, with lots of it also stored in a secret debit card under his name, altogether having more than enough savings to live alone and find his footing as he left this godforsaken house.

Steve's suitcase was fully ready to go, and so was he.

He chucked a jacket on his back, backpack on afterwards, and was ready to storm out, keychain in hand.

Deciding not to face the shouting match going on downstairs that would inevitably turn to angrily drinking, he decided to go out through the back door, right by the pool that had caused his life to veer well off course, for the better.

He wheeled his suitcase right over, glad for the shouting for once, since it’d cover any creaking from the stairs and the loud thumps of the suitcase as he brought it down.

Steve quickly evaded the sight of his parents, getting to the backdoor quite quickly, but not before he took a small gander at his parents in the living room, arguing right in front of an obnoxious mantlepiece, shrouded with many picture frames above it, none of them with the family inside.

He looked at them for what felt like a long moment, but was truthfully quite short, taking in their faces, knowing that this would likely be the last time that he’d ever see his parents again.

He said goodbye to Victoria and Richard Harrington in his head, his heart deep down still wanting to reach out and have their affection. It was pitiful.

Steve knew better than to entertain their negligence and lack of love, so he powered through these emotions, turning his gaze away and was now out the back door.

Quickly trudging the suitcase over, and he was now suddenly at the edge of the premises, just a metre away from his car—thankfully switched to being under his ownership as a gift for his eighteenth birthday.

He opened up the boot, shoving everything inside in a hurried manner. Once that was over, he threw himself into the beemer, mind focused on where the fuck he would go.

Robin wasn’t an option.

In any other moment, she would be, but the one time he needed her, she was over in Bloomington, Indiana, checking over their campus in case she ended up picking them as her go-to college, what with their great language courses.

Steve had been to her house before, and her parents were so sweet to him. They were quite odd and loved the idea of Robin breaking societal expectations and rules.

Sneaking Steve into the house was something that made them happy, wanting Robin to be such a rule-breaker, though he would feel very odd intruding on them, especially without Robin present to cool the awkward feelings that would be sure to arise with a situation like this.

Steve drove off, revving up his engine in a showcase of his own rule-breaking, finding it hilarious how he could faintly hear his father shout a few expletives as he ran out to attempt to catch up to Steve.

He drove off further, getting out of Loch Nora, and tried to rack his mind over where to stop.

Steve loved the kids and everyone else he’d met due to the Upside Down situation, but it just felt a tad too personal to infringe on their space with his issues.

While he joked about his parents a few times, only Robin knew the full extent of their neglect and awfulness, so he’d only feel right with her helping him, which wasn’t exactly a possibility.

He found himself absent-mindedly driving, cassette tape playing a few tunes on low volume, using it as background noise as he zoned out, too stuck in his head to listen to the godly voice of Bruce Springsteen singing The River.

Suddenly, he found himself recognising the land he was entering.

His mind had instinctively brought him over to Skull Rock, the place where he was far too used to going in his moments of anger—or sadness, when it came to his parents, or even Nancy after she broke up with him.

Before it was used for casual hookups and became a teenage deviance hotspot, it was just for him.

For Steve to sit alone and ponder, to find a space to relax away from everything.

Away from the suffocating house that never truly was his home, away from the thoughts plaguing his mind, and away from all the heartbreak haunting him, over losing Nancy, having nobody who knew him like Tommy and Carol once did, and his parents not loving him.

He knew that he’d have to find an actual place to stay, some little hotel before he’d have to start renting out his own place, but for now, this was good, it was more homey than the Harrington home of solitude and bad attitude had ever been.

Steve didn’t feel like leaving the comfort of his car, despite how much he loved Skull Rock, because it would make this real.

He expected it, but now that he was kicked out, his mind could barely take it.

His mind was going into overdrive while also zoning out, hardly able to process his father’s actions, his hand to Steve’s face and harsh words.

And truthfully, Steve didn’t want to process their words right now.

He just wanted to listen to the solemn voice of Bruce Springsteen, who was coincidentally singing Independence Day of all things, a song which was strangely fitting to the circumstances that led Steve to be sitting alone in his car with packed bags.

It was about a son who was leaving his father’s home and felt far too relatable for Steve right now, bringing tears up to hold in the waterline of his eyes.

Steve just let himself weep, focusing on nothing but the heart-wrenching vocals of Springsteen, crying everything out in a freeing manner.

It felt like he was doing that for hours, listening to nothing but Springsteen’s voice on repeat, passing through the songs on his cassette tape over and over.

A knock interrupted that.

It took Steve away from the vocals, bringing his surroundings to the forefront of his mind.

“Hey, hey—Steve?”

Steve looked out the window and saw Eddie, of all people. He did not expect that, though he didn’t really expect to see anyone he knew tonight in the middle of the night.

He promptly rolled down the window. “Eddie, hey,” Steve said, praying that the tear streaks on his face weren’t visible in the moonlight. “How’s it going?”

“Nothing too bad, just smoking and didn’t want to hotbox with Wayne sleeping—wait, is something wrong?” Eddie replied, cutting himself off, likely noticing Steve’s upset face that he was unable to hide.

Steve barked out a cracked laugh, almost croaking with how hysterical he sounded, “Uh—uhm, yeah. Something is wrong—or well, maybe you could call it right, to be honest.”

“Steve?” Eddie said worryingly.

“It’s—it’s my parents, man,” Steve uttered out, “They kicked me out, man.”

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed out, clearly sympathetic.

“Nah, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Steve had to reassure Eddie, he didn’t want him feeling too sympathetic for him; it was pathetic on Steve’s end. “I’ve been expecting this to happen since I left school, walking on eggshells and saving money for the time it’d happen, and, well, it seems that it’s today.”

“It’s fucked up anyway, Steve,” Eddie said, “Your parents are assholes, man, and trust me, I know asshole parents.”

“It’s not that horrid,” Steve countered, “It was always gonna happen and they’d never connected with me so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, except for their cash, I suppose. But, now that it did happen, I do feel a little affected, I’ll admit.”

“Fuck them, you’re literally a monster hunter who saved the whole world from becoming some disastrous goo demonic dimension and they’re kicking you out? Fucking bastards, you’re so much greater than whatever bullshit they want from you.”

“I think even if my dad knew that, he’d still complain about how I wasn’t accepted to his Alma Mater,” Steve joked, smiling at Eddie’s attempt at uplifting him.

Eddie was looking at him with a focused stare, beginning to grin right back at Steve, “Yeah, well, your dad is some elite-level asshole who doesn’t understand the epic highs and lows of monster-battling, so fuck what he thinks.”

“Yeah, fuck what he thinks,” Steve repeated Eddie’s words, smirking as he did so, imagining the look on his father’s face if he ever was to hear this uttered from Steve’s mouth.

Eddie laughed, “Now you got it!”

“Yeah?” he glanced into Eddie’s eyes.

“Fuck him, seriously!” Eddie reiterated, eyes lighting up in the moonlight.

Steve chuckled, finding Eddie so sweet. While he was never the sort of person he’d interact with in high school, Steve was glad that he got to know him, even if it was due to another round of monstrous shenanigans occurring.

He was such a good guy, nothing like Steve assumed he’d be.

Someone Steve never expected would worm his way into his heart.

Someone who made Steve’s heart speed up, his face reddening, and his hands clammy in a way never felt by him since he romanced Nancy back in '83.

“Shit—wait!” Eddie blurted out, his beautiful brown eyes wide on display.

“Huh?”

“Where are you gonna stay then? No more Harrington mansion for you,” Eddie replied, sounding quite worried on behalf of Steve.

“My first thought was Robin’s, but she’s out of town right now, so I was thinking I should get a hotel or something.”

“No, Steve, those are pricey as fuck, you better room up with someone and save your money,” Eddie replied, “I had a place in the works to go ahead and rent, but Jeff caved into his parent’s and cancelled, decided to save and go college out of state, so I’m stuck with Wayne in the trailer—if I had space, I swear I’d offer it to you in an instant.”

“Eddie.” Steve was blunt, having a moment of realisation.

“Yeah?”

“You have money saved, I have money saved,” he said, watching the moment of realisation on Eddie’s face. “You want to move out of your uncle’s place, and I’m now out of my parents’ place, so why don’t we come together and get that together?”

Eddie’s eyes were drilling into Steve’s own, full of incredulity, “Seriously?” You wanna move somewhere with me?”

“Sure, why not?” Steve replied, “Better to live with you than crawl back to my parents and stay in that lonely home.”

“That’s not a home, a home is with the people you love,” Eddie remarked, “And I know this is a random decision, but I genuinely think it’d be fun—and crazy as hell—to move in with you.” He laughed under his breath, “Christ, if my younger self could hear this now, me moving in with ‘The Hair’ Harrington would blow his mind.”

“Well then, let’s make a home together,” Steve said. “I don’t want to stay with people I don’t love and who don’t love me—I’d rather be with you, someone I do love.”

He didn’t know why he said that. It was true, but it wasn’t right to blurt it out like this.

It was impulsive, an awful thing to say right after asking to rent together, and Steve could only pray that he didn’t fuck this plan up right after it’s conception.

“Y—you love me?” Eddie’s voice cracked out. “Steve, is this some joke, or am I right in getting my hopes up high?”

“I—fuck,” Steve responded, stumbling over his words right after he opened his cardoor to confess face-to-face with nothing obstructing them from each other. “I didn’t exactly mean to say that right now, but it is true. I really do like you.”

It seemed Eddie was gearing up to respond, “No fucking way, my younger self’s mind really would be blown the fuck up!” Eddie kneeled below Steve’s open car door, almost eye-level with Steve in the car seat. He placed one hand on Steve’s knee, the other moving in, right as his whole body moved further, reaching into the car.

He grabbed Steve with his free hand, right on his throat, lunging straight in for a kiss.

It was ferocious, full of energy, powerful and needy.

Steve thought it was perfect.

He got into it, instinctively joining in with Eddie, entwining their tongues together with a strong fervour.

Suddenly, their lips broke apart. Eddie was now a few inches away from him.

“How’s that for an answer?” Eddie quipped out, lips reddened up and upturned, clearly pleased at what had just happened.

“So, I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Steve replied, having a smile of his own, along with red lips perfectly matching Eddie’s.

“Goddamn, it is a yes,” Eddie blurted out, “I’d love to move in with you—to make our own home, away from all shitheads of town, just to have our free space and I’d just love to be with you.”

“That’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Because I’d love to be with you as well.”

[starkspondwater]

Feeling Like a Man- Butters Stotch x Shy! Reader

Summary: A look into Butters relationship as he comes into his own (light smut)

a/n : For some reason I just really want a slightly more dominant Butters. He's so sweet I just cannnnt.

Butters was used to how people treated him. He’d been the “pushover” of his class for as long as he can remember. He knew he wasn’t exactly respected among his peers, but they were his friends. It was as much a part of his life as his normal routines, like brushing his teeth and packing his backpack. 

Even the few girlfriends he somehow got in adolescence treated him a bit like a dog, having him play fetch with their belongings and expecting his obedience. It was all a bit…emasculating, which was saying something coming from him, I mean he still LOVED Hello Kitty Island Adventure. However, he let all of that go because that’s the way it always was…until you.

You had been the “new kid” for a few months and had yet to warm up to anyone. You were quiet and reserved, and when someone did talk to you it was as though you were a deer in the headlights, scared at being caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. Butters had no problem with you, he was just busy with his own stuff, or Eric’s stuff he should say (God you would think being being so close to graduating would’ve curbed his scheming but it only increased his habits) You had no classes together and he didn’t really think about interacting with you.

Willy’s Chilly Ice Cream Parlor was not Butters’ favorite job, but it wasn’t completely awful and it gave him decent shifts. Sometimes kids would cry and yell or someone would give some overly complicated order, but he enjoyed seeing the excitement people had for something as simple as ice cream. This particular evening was slow, him trying to pass the time by sorting the clean scooping spoons and organizing drawers for the hundredth time. As the bell jingled overhead he looked up and saw you, standing to one side and inspecting the large blown up menu on the wall. You looked sweet, a large sweater wrapped you up nice and cozy, though he did notice that the cold outside had pinked up your cheeks and nose.

Walking over to the counter, you startled seeing one of your classmates in front of you. Butters felt a little awkward being seen in his uniform. Sure, many of his friends had seen him at work, but the pink striped shirt and dingy apron wasn’t exactly a confident look. After a beat of silence from you, he broke the ice.

“Hiya Y/N, what can I do ya for?” he put on a smile hoping it would put you a little more at ease with him. If Butters was good at anything, in his opinion, it was his job. You shuffled around slightly, eyes wandering over the flavors behind the glass to the left of you. He watched as you pondered your options, finding it cute when your head slightly tilted. 

“Would it be alright if I had a scoop of cookie dough, please?” you asked before giving him a little smile. A warmth grew in his chest at the sight, and now that he actually got a look at you, he thought you were awfully pretty. With a quiet “of course” he got everything ready, intentionally going a little slow.

“Did you just feel like a cold lil’ treat tonight?” 

“Um, I aced that biology exam in Mr. Duchie’s class,” you fiddled a bit with the sleeves of your sweater, watching his movements on the other side of the counter. Rolling on the balls of your feet, you continued “it was really difficult so I figured I’d treat myself a little.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Most people came in here with friends to chit chat or gossip, to hang out, but here you were all on your lonesome to get a treat for passing a test. It was too cute! Subtly, he added a second scoop before handing out the small plastic bowl. You were already opening your wallet when Butters cut in.

“It’s on me. I had Duchie last year and jeez, his tests sure are difficult. You worked hard for it!” he found himself mentally patting himself on the back as he watched you continue to blush.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, stepping away. Almost out of his control, Butters found himself inviting you to stay. It was a slow night and he was due for a break anyhow, and icecream is always better with company! As his shift went on he found he rather liked getting to know this new girl. That’s how it all started.

__

It didn’t take long to progress into him walking you to class and carrying your books, opening doors for you and pulling out your chair, to walking you home every single day.  You didn’t have to ask him to do anything at all and he was fine with that since every time he did those things he got to see that pretty little blush on your face. It’s when you started kissing him on the cheek that he realized he was a goner. He definitely more than just liked you, and for once he found that he didn’t have to second guess if you, the girl he liked, felt the same. 

Over the months you spent time together, small dates and study sessions, you made him feel more confident. Despite his softer interests, you made him feel like a man. You never poked fun at his love of cute things, the stuffies he had around his room, or any of the rather childish words he normally said. You grew more talkative and asked him for his opinions on things, making him feel important. In turn, he felt protective of you. He really liked the thought that you felt safe with him, of all people, and he took it seriously. Even after graduation, he was glued to you whenever he could.

Weirdly enough it was his friends that informed him that he had been taking the lead on things, Kenny pointing out how you seemed to look to him for direction when you were nervous, or how he seemed to know how to lead you into more comfortable situations, a gentle hand on your arm or waist.

“Our little Butters is growing up!” they had all joked, playfully punching his arm and in general just being guys, but it had him thinking. He had noticed how all you two had done were pecks here and there. He figured when you were ready to do more you’d do something. However, to think that maybe you were wanting him to make the first move stirred something in him. That evening, while studying at Butters’ home, books scattered on the floor, he kissed you. Really kissed you, the kind that left you breathless with swollen lips and mussed up hair, a look he decided was one of his favorites.

__

Sex had always been just that for the blond boy. The few times he did have sex it was quick, and while it did feel good it wasn’t all that fun. He felt awkward with being told what to do and how to do it, it never felt like he was really a part of it, but as said before that’s what he had been used to. With you, it was so much more different. 

As you took things slow Butters found that every touch seemed to do something to you, and man did he feel powerful. He could feel you shudder when he grabbed your thigh under the table and he could hear the sharp intake of breath when he moved your hair off your neck - he savored all of it. He had never had anyone act like that when it came to lil’ ol him.

The first time you had sex he watched you writhe underneath him, mouth open with quiet, breathy moans. The flush he so enjoyed stretched down onto your exposed chest, peaked nipples rising and falling in tandem with his own chest. He loved that view best.

The first time he praised you he thought he saw god. He had murmured things before when the two of you got lost in one another, the occasional ‘fuck’ slipping in, but nothing overtly so. “Such a good girl, you can take a little more, yeah?” had come out of his mouth at one point, him tucking up your legs in a mating press. You had felt so good he barely registered what he said, but when those words hit your ears your walls clenched around him. He had known when you finished, of course, but this was intense and had him nearly passing out in pleasure. He didn’t know why he had said those words, but boy was he glad he did as he continued pounding into you.

He marked you, at first with hickeys along your thighs and breasts, you acting bashful whenever you noticed them afterwards, but then they grew more visible along your neck. You never seemed to mind it, especially since Butters looked so proud of his work. There was something to be said about others knowing that you and him were not just together, but together, and he liked it.

Unfortunately, others wanted but they didn’t have. As the season warmed up you had become the flavor of the month. Butters seethed inwardly as he watched guy after a guy, and even a few gals, try to flirt with you. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, it was that they made him feel…inadequate. Everyone else seemed so much stronger than he was, so much more assertive, confident. A nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him of it often through the years, and at the moment it was yelling nonstop.

It was one night at your house that you commented on his melancholy demeanor. The question had only barely left your lips when he sighed dejectedly. Butters knew he was terrible at lying, and let it spill.

“I don’t know if I’m…enough for ya.” He refused to look at you, shame burning in his eyes. “There’s so many people out there that could do more for ya, be more for ya. More than plain Butters.” It was quiet for a bit when he felt your soft hands on his face, gently lifting his gaze to yours. The look in your eyes caused a lump to form in his throat as he listened to you.

“I don’t like that you think that way…You are more than enough for me, Leo,” you said softly, using the nickname only you called him. You moved your hand to cradle his cheeks, noticing the moisture that began to form in his eyes. “I do not want to be with anyone else, no matter how much more you think they could do for me. I just want you.” His resolve was breaking as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m not tough, or manly, or, gosh I don’t even know anymore,” you felt him try to move his head away but you firmly held his head in place. Despite the situation, he found himself surprised. You had never been firm like this before, not with him or anyone.

“I don’t care about any of that. I have you,and that is enough for me. I get to decide that,” with that final statement, you kissed him, pulling him towards you. His eyes grew wide, a few tears slipping out. He had always been the one to initiate what went on between you two, and while he didn’t mind, he didn’t realize how badly he needed you to do this. 

Slowly and deliberately, you undressed him and yourself, hands roaming over him with care. You had pulled him on top of you, living in the warmth of his skin on yours. As he reached towards your bedside drawer for the usual box of condoms, you stopped him. He looked at you confused for a moment.

“I…I want this. I want you.” For once, in all of your relationship with this beautifully sweet boy, you looked determined. You were already wet when he slid inside, relishing in the raw warmth of you.

“Oh Jesus, darlin’,” he breathed, gradually bottoming out. Everything had felt wonderful before, but this was…something else entirely. “Are you alright?” Looking at your face he could practically see the stars in your eyes before you grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours once more, effectively giving him your answer.

In Butters’ opinion, this was the definition of making love. This was slow and passionate. It was filled with something intangible, immeasurable. Pumping in and out of you felt unreal without the barriers that normally separated you. You were so good to him, and he wanted to be just as good to you. He worked to make sure you were taken care of, feeling your orgasm roll over him before he picked up the pace. As warm, sticky bursts shot into you, he found himself saying over and over “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

As he slowly pulled out, observing your spent form underneath him, words of love lightly murmured as you regained yourself, he finally felt at ease with himself.

He was enough.

[ragingsock]

Little one shot I wrote to get my mind off some stuff. Totally not projecting onto Phantom or anything.

Dew x Phantom is implied

Tw: disordered eating

Phantom’s used to feeling hungry. In the pit he never knew when, where, or even if he’d get his next meal. This followed him when he was summoned.

In the early days Cumulus would leave food at Phantom’s door, not wanting to pressure him into leaving his room if he wasn’t ready but she’d pass by later in the day to see it still outside his door cold.

Swiss, Rain, and Mountain would invite Phantom to picnics near Rain’s favorite pond. If Phantom accepted he’d pick at his chips watching Rain swim. It was the most any of them had seen him eat.

It was Dewdrop who got him to open up though. Phantom had collapsed during practice and Dew rushed him to the infirmary. Aether told Dew it was due to severe malnutrition. Poor Bug’s body couldn’t keep going in his current state.

When Phantom woke up Dew wanted to yell at him for being so stupid but the young ghoul’s sunken eyes and frail frame made him stop. He remembered what the pit was like. If you weren’t strong or fast or useful in some way you were left to fend for yourself, he was left to fend for himself.

Dewdrop sat with Phantom, telling him about when he first came topside. Terzo making his ghouls feasts, or at least trying to before he and Omega had to step in so the abbey didn’t burn to the ground. They established pack dinners, Terzo had said since they were summoned together, they’d eat together as a family. It helped take everyone’s mind off their new situation and bond. It was a tradition they kept when Terzo was no longer with them.

In return, Phantom told Dew about his time in the pit. How hunger felt familiar and comforting since he still wasn’t fully settled. How he hoarded food, his desk drawers were full of chip bags and any sweets he could get his hands on. He admitted that sour candies were one of his favorites.

During that time Aether had been listening. He packed the two a small lunch, something that wouldn’t be too heavy on Phantom’s empty stomach but would give him some energy back. And he might’ve put a bag of sour gummy worms in as a treat.

Dewdrop took Phantom to a quiet, more secluded place. A gazebo, a little run down but had one of the best sunny spots for naps. He told the young ghoul he’d come here to be alone. Think, nap, he pointed out a spot where the stone was scorched after he’d had his element changed. He admitted that wasn’t a good time for him.

While Dew talked he placed the food Aether had given them out. He didn’t force Phantom to eat or make a big deal about it but it was there if he wanted it. The two sat there till the sun set and by the time they were cleaning up, Phantom had eaten everything.

Well, almost everything. As the two walked back to the ghoul wing they shared the bag of gummy worms. Phantom slept in Dew’s room that night. Curled around the fire ghoul, softly purring as he dozed off.

It still took Phantom a while to be able to eat normally and with everyone and he still kept a snack drawer in his room but he’s forever grateful for what Dewdrop did for him that day.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

jesus christ. guys. show is on its last leg. ep 9 of the outsiders. do NOT do anythin stupid. do NOT do anythin stupid. do NOT

well. if I have nothin else. at least I have my fuck ass intro.

damn were still down to 240p. still can't tell NOBODY from nobody

pony just standin there watchin the popcorn machine. also pony fumblin around for change for like five minutes.

who is this lady. Just stole five bucks out the cash drawer

'how come I don't know you?' 'you know everybody?' 'everybody but you' pony I love you. please never do anythin fucked up please.

I love how bashful n embarrassed n pouty n whiny jay pony is. he's just such a kid man.

steve n two n soda workin on the cars together aough. I love this trio. or I guess. Steve workin n soda n two just dickin around

TIM N DARRYYYY

'you know you got a mouth on you kid' 'eyes n ears too. what about em' TIM TAKIN UP FOR DARRY SO FAST. that's my BOYS.

the way darry holds tim back with literally one hand 👀 'eat this' 'button it tim' darry tellin tim to shut up n tim. shuttin up. hmmmm. yeah. alright.

pony bein whiny is so important to me. like. guys. he's just some kid. I love him so much. they let him be such a brat in this show. n that's so important to me.

tim n darry lyin for each other actually. yeah. alright. guys of all time. those are MY guys.

two salutin buck n buck goin 'unstable. definitely unstable.' I giggled unfortunately

steve soda two triobI love this trio so so much.

soda literally has a new girl every goddamn episode

darry standin with his hands on his belt buckle lookin at Tim like 🤨 that's his husband ur honor

literally every single one of the curtis brothers sneakin off to the carnival without tellin the others. unfortunately they're silly

pony got seperated from the gang within 5 seconds I KNOW he was always gettin last in stores n stuff as a kid

DARRYS GOIN TO BOX???? HES GONNA GET HIS SHIT ROCKED

why did tims money smell like fresh baked cookies

pony losin at those ring toss games n just goin back n tryin again is so funny. I just KNOW he would have dropped an INSANE amount of money on them things left to his own devices n darry would have KILLED him

lovin this random ladies outfit. she's kinda servin

pony is so. guys I know you're so sick of me sayin it. he's just so cute. that's my baby. I need to give him five dollars n a hug.

steve n two playin that game where you throw the ball at the thing n try to knock it down n genuinely gettin so heated is so funny to me. very in character. Steve would flip his SHIT.

'you find him?' 'no' 'knowin ponyboy some con artist just sold him the Brooklyn bridge.' ok one. HA. two says the man actively fallin for a carnival scam. n three. this is the first bit of pony n steve beef we've seen in a WHILE. hell yeah

what is this fuck ass hat on buck

steve soda n two perhaps the worst liars on gods green earth. what the hell.

'I got a pack a smokes right here! musta givin em up for lent!' n then the way soda palms two the money? clean as hell. also just loved that whole scene. more of them bein stupid fuckin kids yeah?

darrys goin to box n they don't know how they get the weights in the gloves. n also tims parole officer is there. Great great. very cool. this is goin well.

'have we met?' 'our eyes did' good lord. soda shut up. no more one liners from you. on one liner prison for a while.

Two's little giggle is everythin to me.

??? sodas flirtin n steve just reached around n put his whole arm??? around sodas chest?? 🤨🏳️‍🌈❓️

oh TIM is gonna fight oh ok. oh nevermind. Tim's convincin DARRY to fight. Tim just said 'cmon you can take this guy by hittin em HALF as hard as you hit me' n then did the stupidest lil grin. yeah. your honor I love them.

oh no part of the ep is missin

oh nevermind I found it on a different channel ok sick sick

darry HELLO SAILOR curtis

OH SHIT PONYS HERE!! he's gonna watch darry fight HELL YEAH

sodas on a date with the carnival lady n steve n two are just. also there. two just grabbed Steve n swept him down in his arms n Steve went 'oh the carnival is SO romantic' n bapped two on the nose n then two dropped him. actually ep of all time perhaps. actually wait yall have to see this. watch just like the beginnin bit of this

DAMN darry is a good boxer. AWWW TIM CHEERIN HIM ON FROM THE STANDS

darry n the fuckin faces he's always makin. I love that guy. also DARRY WON YEAHHH.

tim. do not fall for this. do not fall for this. do not fall for this. OH. he didnt!! in fact he kinda ate him up.

darry helpin pony at the shootin game n pony absolutely WHININ that Darry lied n came to the carnival. like he didn't also. lie. n go to the carnival. also the way he delivers the line 'you LIED to me man' Jay pony they could never ever make me hate you. hes so bratty n whiny I love that kid.

oh. very cool. yet another pitch black scene. where are they. what are they doin.

buck doublin down n goin 'that young man is unstable. Definitely unstable' god that's so funny. buck knows a FREAK when he sees one

THEIR CAR GOT STOLEN

two bit runnin over to the dunk tank n dunkin the guy that was makin fun of them earlier. I love those stupid kids.

'searched under the bleachers n all. no car. not even a two headed calf' 'I say we sue em for false advertisin' ok. again. one. HA. I fear I giggled. two. why the hell would the car be under the bleachers

can we get even one single light on in this shot. I can't see SHIT.

buck bein like I want the truth. about the car. n soda gettin this utter defeated look on his face. n then buck goin. you forgot to tarp it huh. n he LIGHTS up. the look of a man about to get away with it.

pony goin 'don't you UNDERSTAND? they'll break us UP' n his voice breakin when he talks about his brothers. aough. he's my baby.

darry agreein to throw the match in exchange for the car. darry feelin like it's his fault cause he said he wasn't goin to the carnival n then went anyways. how often this man is THROWIN himself on the block for his brothers. aough.

the whole gang bein there n cheerin darry on OUGH

also those are the bluest jeans I've ever seen

TIM N STEVE HELPIN DARRY BETWEEN ROUNDS AOUGH

steve yellin for darry to stay down n pony goin 'he won't. he's too stubborn' PONY N DARRY ARE THE SAME KIND OF STUBBORN MENTION YEAHHHH

DARRY LOOKIN AT PONY N THATS WHY HE GETS KNOCKED OUT. APUGHAGGAH. GNAWIN AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE.

the parole officer literally already havin the handcuffs. goddamn. HA. TIM WAS WALKIN AROUND WITH BLACKMAIL. HE CAUGHT HIS PAROLE OFFICERS ASS CHEATIN

hes holdin that Polaroid up like how Ken holds the mugshot thing in barbie. does that mean anythin to any of yall. 'you know these handcuffs? they sure can... chaff a wrist...' 'this is blackmail!!' 'sure is. n I'm ashamed of myself.' TIM SHEPARD THE MAN THAT YOU AREEEE

everytime they all pile in the back of darrys pick up I gain 10 years on my life especially cause I KNOW darry is makin pony ride inside

ok. episode ever actually. great ep. wish they were all good as this shit. AOUGH. my KIDS.

[scarlett-or-wtv]

Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

A Chris Sturniolo X Reader Fanfiction

In which: Chris broke up with y/n over something stupid. Months later, she’s cleaning out her closet to move when she finds a shoebox filled with things he had given her over the years. Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

Warnings: angst, crying

A/N: I asked you guys if I should write this on a poll and you said yes so here it is, Stupid Letters, Stupid Flowers.

I was honestly glad about moving. New state, new start. Thats what I told myself.

My floor was riddled with random items, boxes stacked in the corner as I packed my room. I was gonna miss my room, it was my comfort place after all.

I picked through the last items in my closet, my clothes already packed away into various suitcases and boxes.

My eyes landed on a shoebox in the back corner. I looked at it confused for a second before getting onto my tippy toes to grab it. I slid it off the shelf and and almost fell trying to catch it. The box fell to the floor, the lid sliding partially off.

My heart sank as I saw what was under the lid. Of course. I had forgotten all about that. I hesitantly picked up the box before carrying it over to my bed. I sat down and took the lid completely off. I sifted through the contents, nothing but Stupid Letters and Stupid Flowers. Full of broken promises.

A tear fell from my cheek, landing on one of said letters, the words at the bottom of the paper caught my eye. “Ill love you, always and forever.” A lie, of course. Because Chris had broken up with me for the stupidest of reasons.

Rain poured over me as I knocked on his door, when he finally answered, he didn’t look happy to see me.

“Im sorry. Im so sorry. My car broke down on the way and my phone died and I couldn’t text you. Please let me make it up to you.” I rambled desperately.

“Its our 3 year anniversary and you didn’t even show up.” He said angrily. His tone made me shiver more then the cold rain.

“I had to walk all the way here. Im sorry I really tried to be here on time.” I apologized again.

“Just go home. Its done, we’re done.” He muttered. My heart sank.

“Don’t say that. I really am sorry, okay? Just let me fix it.” I begged as a tear on my cheek mixed with the rain.

“No. Just go home y/n.” He repeated.

“Please don’t do this. I love you.” I sobbed out my words as I pleaded with him.

“Go.” He said before shutting the door in my face.

It wasn’t until later that I found out the real reason he had broken up with me, someone new. He was just looking for any excuse to break up with me so he could be with her, what was her name again? Oh right, Hannah.

If she wasn’t absolutely gorgeous I would say it was his loss, unfortunately, she’s much prettier than me. Her long straight brown hair and her perfect body, perfect teeth, she was simply, perfect. In a way I could never be.

He wanted her, I should accept that. But then again, if he really loved me those 3 years, he wouldn’t have replaced me.

I walked over to my desk again and pulled out the drawer. I picked up the small velvet box that rested in the very back. My promise ring, yet another lie. I opened up the box and watched as the ring sparkled in the faint light that crept through the blinds of my window.

I walked back over to the shoebox and stuck it inside, letting out a sigh as I lifted the it up and carried it downstairs and out to my car.

I got into the driver seat and placed it in the seat next to me before starting the engine. I pulled out my phone and clicked on his contact, each dial tone made me more nervous. Then he picked it up.

“Hello?” He questioned, his words falling through the speaker of the phone in my hand.

“I uh… have some of your stuff. My plane leaves tomorrow, can I bring it by your house?” I asked nervously.

I heard him sigh through the phone. “Yeah sure.” He said sounding a little annoyed.

“Okay, sorry I just wanted to ask first. I know you don’t wanna see me.” The last part came out as a whisper.

“Just come over y/n.” He said.

“Be there in 10. Bye.” I said before hanging up. Why do I feel like crying right now? We talked for 30 seconds and I wanna cry. Pathetic.

After a while I pulled up to his house, parking across the street. I slowly and hesitantly stepped onto his porch. My hand shook as I pressed the doorbell with my free hand.

After what felt like eternity the door opened, it was Matt. He gave me a confused look.

“Chris said I could come drop of the last of his things.” I explained looking at the box then back at him.

“Okay.” He said stepping aside and letting me walk in. He closed the door behind us and I walked down the stairs. I stood outside of his room for a moment before clenching my eyes shut and knocking, as if the simple action was deadly.

“Come in.” He said from inside, i slowly turned the handle, stepping inside. I nervously met his eyes, my mouth suddenly going dry.

“Here.” I said, my hands shaking as I extended the box to him. He picked it up with a questioning look before setting it down on the bed and opening it. I watched as his expression dropped, his eyes raking over the contents of the box. Then his gaze landed on the small velvet box under a few letters.

He picked it up, opening it with an expression as if he hoped it wasn’t what he thought.

“You don’t wanna keep it?” He asked quietly, his gaze turning to me.

“Why would I?” I whispered with a shrug. “Give it to Hannah, im sure she’d love it.” I said with a sad smile.

“Y/n. I broke up with Hannah weeks ago.” He whispered.

“Oh, im sorry I didn’t know.” I muttered looking at my feet. I really didn’t know, if I did, honestly, I would have celebrated.

“Its okay. You didn’t know. Thanks for the stuff.” He said looking back down and sifting through the letters. “Maybe Ill send you a new letter when you get settled in at your new house.” He said with a sad smile.

“Maybe.” I whispered, my expression matching his. He suddenly stepped toward me, his movements cautious. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug.

“Ill miss you. Even if you think I wont.” He muttered into my hair. I found myself melting into his touch, no matter how hard I tried to resist it.

“I think I should go.” I say pulling away from him. “I have to finish packing.” I explained, not meeting his gaze.

“Okay.” He nodded understandingly. “Bye y/n.”

“Bye Chris.”

So I left. The next day I would be on a plane, and I those letters and flowers would all be a distant memory of what used to be, and it wouldn’t be till I was going through airport security that I would find that Chris had slipped the ring into my purse during that hug. Of course.

A/N: Do yall fw this? Idk i lowk rushed it and wrote it in like 30 minutes? Lmk!!

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 4 - Pick me up

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Brief mention to reader’s (small) injury, references to past motorcycle accident and life changing injury.

Thanks so much for the response to this story so far, I'm aiming to update at least once a week - hopefully more some weeks - but life is quite busy at the moment. All your reblogs and comments are so appreciated, thank-you!

You sat awkwardly on a rickety old desk in the backroom as Bucky carefully pulled the tiny shards of glass from your arm with a tweezer. He’d already checked out your head injury, which was barely an injury at all really, a mere scratch and small bump. After a few tests he seemed satisfied you weren’t concussed, so he’d moved on to the glass wound.

He still seemed mad, so you kept quiet, trying not to concentrate on his proximity. His fingers moved agilely and delicately despite his hefty frame, but you supposed it made sense that someone who worked on cars and motorcycles most of the day would be good with their hands.

Your mouth pulled into a grimace as he pulled another shard out and then quickly cleaned the area with antiseptic, causing you to hiss.

“Almost done…” he said monotonously.

“Thanks” you replied.

Your tone was sheepish, you felt a little embarrassed that he was now patching you up after you’d clapped back at him. Your mouth sometimes got ahead of you like that. But it was hard not to feel aggrieved when he was also making you feel like a kid who’d been sent to the principal’s office.

“Hold still…” he scolded.

Yeah…just like that.

“I am still”.

“No…you’re moving. Cut it out”.

“You cut it out!”

He sighed heavily. “Whatever…”

The two of you stewed in silence for a few more minutes until he pulled the final piece out and cleaned and bandaged the wound, then meticulously packed everything back into his medical kit. You thanked him and kept your head down, running your fingers across the bandage as you wondered what to say. You didn’t normally feel shy around Bucky, but the incident with the customer and your subsequent squabbling had thrown you off. Your general feelings towards him seemed to oscillate between sheer lust and intense annoyance.

“So…I guess you’ll be quitting then” he said glumly as he turned around and put the kit back into a desk drawer.

You looked up, surprised. “Huh?”

“After this, I mean” he cleared his throat. “I guess you’ll be quitting the job”.

“Why?”

He turned towards you; confusion and annoyance evident on his face. “…Because you got assaulted by a customer and I didn’t stop it?”

You tilted your head in sudden understanding. “That’s why you’re being so pissy? You think I’m going to quit?”

He frowned; his tone clipped. “Why wouldn’t you? You don’t need this shit on top of all your house stuff”.

Well…he was sort of right. You didn’t really need the money (although it helped), and you really didn’t need to be dealing with drunk guys trying to bottle you…but…in all honesty? You’d dealt with worse over the years. A drunk guy with bad aim wasn’t pleasant, but you liked this job – you liked the MC, you liked the regulars, you liked that it gave you something to do in the evenings rather than aimlessly wander Granny’s house, you liked…Bucky.

“I’m not quitting, Bucky” you told him defiantly.

He looked genuinely surprised, his blue eyes narrowing. “What? Look…I’d understand, we fucked up – we should’ve been there to protect you and we were fuckin’ around playing pool”.

You frowned. “Look…don’t feel guilty. I should’ve called you over and not tried to manage him by myself when he started getting rowdy…I guess I just, didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it…” you told him quietly.

He chuckled fondly. “Sugar…I know full well you can handle it. I’ve seen the way you can handle yourself. But drunks can be unpredictable. You need to tell one of us if things get ugly, okay? That’s why we’re here”.

You nodded. “Alright”.

“Promise me you’ll call me or one of the others over if someone so much as raises their voice to you”. His tone was stern, he was clearly very serious about this.

“Scout’s honour” you replied sunnily as you held up your fingers in a mock salute, trying to ease some of the strange tension that was in the air.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but the stern look on his face was still there.

“And you’re really staying? Because if you wanted to quit..”

“No…Bucky, I’m staying”.

The silence hung awkwardly between you until you cleared your throat, looking over at the cabinet where he’d put away the kit.

“So uh…I didn’t think you’d have First Aid training”.

“You learn a few things after you come off your bike a couple of times” he sighed gruffly.

You nodded silently in response, but he caught your eyes briefly darting to look over at his metal arm.

“Yes…” he wiggled his metal fingers. “That was one of those times…can’t fix that with our First Aid box though” he muttered.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” he softened. “I don’t mind talking about it. Really. Long time ago now. Got knocked off my bike by a truck and got pretty badly mangled. They couldn’t save it…”

“Jesus, Bucky, I’m SO sorry. I had no idea…”

“It’s fine,” he said pragmatically. “Accidents happen. Life goes on. Besides, got an upgrade out of it…” he smiled grimly and flexed the robotic arm.

“And you still get on your bike every day, even after all that?” you asked with disbelief.

He nodded, a smile lighting up his face. “It’s what I love. Nothing could stop me doing what I love. Yeah, I was a bit shaky at first. But you adapt. That’s what life is about, isn’t it?”

You smiled back at him. He was like regular Bucky again. You admired the way his face lit up when he spoke about his passion, quietly impressed by his determination to get back in the saddle. You wished you could be more like him in that way, rather than cowering in your indecision when things went south. You looked back over at his metal arm.

“I mean…it’s amazing. So intricate. I’ve never seen a prosthetic like it. How do you even go about getting a robot arm?”

“Friends in high places,” he tittered. “Tony Stark threw it in as part of a deal…”

Your eyes widened. “Tony Stark…the weapons magnate?”

Bucky just winked in response.

“Why would you and Tony Sta- No…you know what? I don’t need to know…”

“Yeah…probably for the best,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes, but you were secretly relieved that the tension between you both had eased. Back to dumb jokes and sassing each other.

He smiled back at you for a second, but it faded so quickly that it made your stomach flip. He looked over at you forcefully, his eyes dark. It was a look you hadn’t seen before.

“Bucky…what is it-”

“I’m sorry again…that you got hurt,” he said gravely. “I would never…if I’d known…” he sighed. “I just mean…the last thing I’d ever want is for you to be in harm’s way…”

You paused, struck by the sincerity in his voice. You stared back at him, nodding sluggishly as he moved closer to you, unable to tear your eyes away from him. Time seemed to slow as he leaned towards you. Your eyes widened as he tilted his head, his expression intense. He leaned in closer and closer, and you found yourself moving too, like a moth to a flame. As his lips met yours it was like a lightning bolt, your breath caught in your chest as you suppressed a gasp and let yourself melt into him. His tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening, and you reciprocated greedily. Suddenly his hands were on your thighs, moving up your hips, your waist. The heat of his touch searing. Your own fingers grabbed at his kutte, pulling him closer and closer but still never close enough as his mouth moved to your throat. You practically mewled as his lips met the flesh of your neck, you tilted your head back to allow him full access. Your eyes closed as you bit your lip, his mouth ghosted over your skin and-

The heavy knocking sent you crashing back down to earth with a cruel bump, a tiny gasp escaping you as he pushed you back down against the wood.

“Buck…” came the muffled voice from behind the door. “We need to go. Sorry. Does your best employee need a ride home?”

“What is it, Sam?” Bucky snarled as he stood and moved towards the door.

“Rumlow…he’s apparently making a move…”

Bucky exhaled, he turned to look at you for a second, opening his mouth to speak before shaking his head in silent apology. His eyes said more than his lips ever could. You nodded in return.

He swung the door open and Sam stood there. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed or awkward to interrupt, so he was either being polite enough not to mention it, or simply hadn’t picked up on the slight heaviness in your breathing, or the way you were somewhat splayed across the desk.

“Goddamn. Alright. Let’s go,” Bucky instructed. “Sugar…you need a ride?”

“N-no. I drove. All good” you stuttered as you regained your composure.

“Sam…have someone ride back with her. Just in case”.

“Bucky I’m fine I-”

He looked at you warningly, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright…” you sighed. “Give me the motorcycle escort”.

His hard expression softened for a split second; a hint of a smile sent your way. The beginnings of a sparkle in his baby blues.

And then he was gone.

[itsthecherryontop]

Adrenaline Rush (Billy Hargrove Ch. 47)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Henderson OC (Halle)

Chapters Posted: 46/55

UPDATED EVERY SUNDAY!

CHAPTER 47 WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW

Word Count: 318,823

Motörhead played through Billy’s speaker as I boxed up his cassette tapes. He was slowly taking down the pictures and Daphne’s drawings from the wall. He gently folded the drawings and neatly stacked them with the painting I had made him. 

The next thing he worked on packing was his nightstand. The lamp was wrapped in newspaper paper and he unplugged the phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching him open his nightstand drawer. He pulled out a handful of Polaroids which I knew were from our trip. He carefully pocketed them in the pocket of the jean jacket I gifted him the year prior. I saw a flash of blue as he tossed something behind him onto my head. He chuckled as I reached up and pulled the item off my head to reveal it was my pair of my underwear. I’d forgotten he had picked them off my floor the morning after I had admitted I loved him. 

“William, that is so gross. I just washed my hair,” I complained, tossing the underwear over to my purse. 

“You’re fine,” he teased. “They were in my mouth so I practically cleaned them for you,” he said, turning back to packing. 

“In your— you put them in your mouth?” I stated, not quite believing what I heard. 

“Princess, I had my tongue all over you. You shouldn’t be surprised,” he taunted. “Well, almost all over. I figured anything more would be pushing it.”

Almost all over? Where the hell else could he put his tongue? I thought it over drawing a blank as I continued packing. 

“I can see your brain overworking over there,” he called back, pulling out the Penthouse magazines. 

“I don’t know what you meant,” I sighed, reaching to grab the cassettes discarded on the couch. 

I could hear him getting up and tossing the magazines after some consideration. I turned around at the sound to see the magazines in his trash pile. He smirked at me before playfully pinching my rear as I leaned toward the couch. 

“Ow!” I shrieked out of surprise, jolting away from his hand. 

“That didn’t even hurt. I barely even touched you and you're in jeans,” he laughed. 

“I know but still. I’m trying to get stuff done and you’re being a menace,” I said with a heatless glare. 

“You asked me what I meant,” he defended with a smug look. 

“How is pinching me an answer?” 

He crouched down bringing his face close to mine as he lowered his voice, “Why don’t you strip off those jeans and let me bend you over this couch so I can kiss it better?” 

I stared at him for a second before weakly punching his arm, “Asshole.” He laughed as I turned away from him, poorly hiding the color in my face. 

“And here I thought you’d want me kissing your ass.”

To Continue Reading: archiveofourown.org

[vixenanswers]

Love what youre doing in this blog <3

Do you have any tips of staying organised, specifically keeping a tidy wardrobe and desk? Usually it takes me a long time to clean but normally whenever I finally tidy the things they never stay that way for long..

Thank you o2studies ♥️

I’m always really happy to hear that people are enjoying my stuff and it’s helpful to them!

I also really relate to struggling to keep your space organized as I used to struggle with that a lot when I first moved out. So I collected some tips that helped me and I hope they will do so for you too.

General tips:

Find a place for everything: The most important step in staying organised is to create an organization system that works for you. I think the things you need to keep in mind are 1. where do you need your things? 2. where is it easy to grab your things from? If you found a place that accomplishes both these points, try to keep your things in

Containers!: Putting things in containers prevents them from just laying around and thus reduces visual clutter. You can also just have a bucket where you put things that you need to put away later -> makes the tidying-up-process less overwhelming. This works both with containers for pencils and papers on your desk and for organizers in your closet

Put things away after using them: This is ofcourse one of the most basic tips, but it can be very helpfull to keep your place tidy. If you put things away after using them they don’t pile up.

Take time every day to de-clutter: If the last tip doesn’t work for you try this instead. For me this time used to be after coming home from school and now its in the morning before I start studying. Instead of taking a lot of time to clean everything, take a little time each day to for example put away the papers you worked on or the clothes you wore yesterday

Desk organization tips:

Keep only what you need on you desk: A cluttered workspace can be distracting and make it difficult to focus on the task at hand. It’s also helpful too keep open desk space, so you have space to work.

-> Keep things you need often nearby: Keeping the things you need most near your dominant hand makes it easier to grab them. This also makes it easier to put them back where they belong and you don’t have to shuffle things around because they’re hard to reach

Utilize your wall space, the space under your desk and stack vertically: A floating shelve/a pegboard or drawer organizers can be helpful to have more storage space and stacking things vertically is a more efficient use of space

Organize your desk according to your work process: Again if things already are where you need them to be, you don’t need to put them back and it’s also just more efficient. For example; a lot of people work from left to right, so they put documents they need to work on on the left of their desk and the documents they finished working on on the right

Wardrobe organization tips:

Clean out your closet: It can be hard to keep your wardrobe organized, when it’s overflowing so start off with downsizing and decluttering. Selling some off your stuff on websites like Poshmark or eBay or donate it to give it a second live

-> Make future clean outs easier: Place a distinct (i.e., brightly colored) hanger at the front of each section of your closet. Every time you wear something and wash it, hang it up in front of that hanger. After a few months, it’ll be pretty easy to see what got worn and what didn’t

-> Pack away seasonal clothing: Try to store the clothes you don’t need at the time somewhere else (like in another storage space/boxes or vacuum packs) to make place in your wardrobe

Create Zones: You could divide items by type, by color or based on how frequently you use them. Put high-use items in the front so they’re easy to grab and you don’t have to go through all your things. Zones also help to get an overview of everything you have so you again don’t have to go through everything

=> Hope that helped, thanks for the question!

[siloechat]

Day 2 of the Salty Pirates challenge

This is better. I feel like I'm participating in some chips tasting and online pirating challenge.

Today we went to a local honey festival (it counts ! We needed honey). It was very small, with a lot of people out, and very very noisy. So very tiring ! I mostly kept my noise canceling headphones (not the music kind, the construction kind). People tend to get disturbed/ condescending when I keep them, but it helps. One of the vendor was nice, talking to me and not M, not infantilizing, so I mostly bought our honey at her booth. Also some delicious nougat !

I was tired when we came back, but M decided to vacuum our bedroom and all the closet and drawer to try to stop the sneezing , so I went and cleaned the bathroom sink. I've organized that sink with bathroom baskets a few months ago. It still works ! I think cleaning that sink is now the easiest cleaning task in the house because it's done in a few minutes. I don't have to stand long.

So now I'm done with my weekly cleaning tasks (not that they actually are done weekly. That's more of dream. Still, I'm happy when they get done, it always make a difference )

I haven't made any plans for the rest of the challenge, but I have a few ideas:

Seasonal tasks to finish, like bags and coat cleaning

Having the house as clean as possible before we leave on Friday. I know M will clean when I'm absent, but I don't want him to have too much to do.

Packing before Friday ! Both for seeing family, and then for the work trip.

Drawer decluterring / organizing / cleaning. I love my painting stuff but I alway have to rummage through to find anything, and the drawer is too heavy, I can barely open it myself.

Two of our lights are very cold and always hurt my eyes. Maybe something warmer would be better.

Holiday planning ! Before M's family try to convince us to do 9h of train and then back, during the annual strike, to get dissected and judged for a week. Also it's noisy. Please no.

Medical: I need to get back to physical therapy. I really, really don't want to, but it's been 2 years since the last time and my walking is... not improving. At best. So I need to. But I really really don't want to.

Craft: I have 2-3 (4 ?) glass glass (?) to paint, so we can put them on the windowsill for the Light festival in December.

Added: I want to pass the driving theory test before New Year (probably unrealistic ), so fitting a few training sessions in the next month would be... at least step in the right direction

I think that's most of it. I did a lot of organizing in Spring, so a lot of the daily work is just preventing the appartement from growing wild again.

[jessicaloons]

Chapter 26:

I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

"This is so exciting!" I exclaimed and unlocked the door "Ready?"

"Ready when you are." Charles smiled at me and I took a deep breath "Are you nervous?" he chuckled a little.

"I mean… it was all so fast. One day I signed the contract, Rita took care of the payment. The next day we did all the measurements, ordered furniture and painted the walls. I packed last week all my belongings in boxes and yeah now they’re here and I will see my fully renovated and furnished flat for the first time ever…" I said it all so fast that Charles laughed.

"It always baffles me how fast you can talk, cara mia. But come on! It will be amazing! Open up!" he squeezed my hand and I nodded, pushing the door open.

We walked inside. I mustered everything. The colours on the walls. The furniture. After we went into every single room, we came back to the living room and Charles looked at me.

"What’s the verdict?" he asked and I sat down on the sofa, it was just as comfy as I imagined it to be.

"What do you think?" I patted the space next to me and he sat down.

"Honestly? Can you do my flat next? This is amazing! It’s so you! The colours, the furniture, it all looks super cozy but modern and clean… you did an amazing job, cara mia!" he leaned over, kissing my cheek.

"So you like it?"

"100%! But it’s important what you think! It’s your home from now on!"

"I love it. Everything is exactly how I pictured it in my mind." I couldn’t stop smiling. It was perfect and it was all mine "I can’t believe it. I have my own flat. In Monaco. And it looks amazing!"

"Yes, you have your first flat in Monaco and it looks perfect. It looks like you." he pulled me to his side and kissed my cheek "Let’s unpack your stuff." he got up and pulled me with him "I follow your lead!"

After little over an hour I opened up the last of the boxes, getting out a pile of work out clothes, stowing it away in one of the drawers.

"I really thought it would take us longer…" Charles folded the empty box together.

"I mean. It was only my clothes and my personal stuff, books, games and so on. I didn’t have more. Our mums bought all the kitchen stuff, or better they told me what I needed, I showed them some examples of what I liked and they took care of it." I shrugged my shoulders.

"That’s how they did it for me as well." Charles chuckled "You have a lot of space left in your closet. And even more empty drawers. We should take a big shopping trip to fill them up."

"Or…" I turned around, looking at him "… you could bring some of your clothes over… so you always have something here… in case of an emergency."

"That sounds actually like a good idea… I mean emergencies happen all the time, right?" he put his hands on my waist, pulling me closer "We still should go shopping. You deserve it." he kissed me softly.

"Hmm, you know I’m more of an online shopping person…" I whispered against his lips and he smiled.

"But online shopping doesn’t give me the opportunity to see you trying on new stuff and then happily hand over my credit card and say we take everything." he chuckled.

"Bold of you to assume that I let you pay."

"I want to spoil my girlfriend every once in a while." Charles nipped at my bottom lip and I gasped. His hands began roaming my body, pushing up my sweater "I want to spoil my girlfriend now…" he kissed me, with such urgency, my back colliding with the wall behind me "How about we inaugurate your flat… starting with a nice shower…" he then started peppering tiny kisses along my jaw, down my throat "…have a little stop-over in your bed…" he sucked on my collarbone "…and then maybe we figure out some more…" the doorbell rang, loud banging on the door and he groaned loudly "What now?"

"Fuck! Our mums!" I hastily looked into the mirror, pulling my sweater back in place, smoothing my hair down. I left to open the door.

"Awesome…" I could hear Charles mumble underneath his breath as he followed me.

"Lizzie! First qualifying done in Singapore, how do you like it so far?" Will Buxton wiped his sweaty forehead and I chuckled.

"Hot. Humid. Exhausting? No, honestly, I really like the track, but yeah, it’s really hot, I never had so many ice baths on a race weekend, but pretty cool still. It was a tough quali, but I think a P7 and P9 was all we could do and now I’m excited for the race tomorrow."

"The last weeks were a real whirlwind for you! You moved to Monaco, filming for your documentary began, care to share a little about it?"

"Yeah, it’s been busy weeks, that’s for sure. The moving went smoothly, I already feel so at home in my place. I really love it. Then of course the whole Netflix thing is just… it’s still so mind blowing that they are really interested in my life. We did some shoots of my work out routine, talked about my recovery after my accident. They’re here this weekend as well."

"Will we see now two Netflix crews at every race? Or is it the same one?"

"No, it’s actually a second crew, but a smaller one. Who’s solely focused on me, which is weird because I will still be filmed by the OG crew. My crew won’t be at every race tho. They will be in Mexico and Brazil, that’s it for this season."

"We are all really excited for what’s to come! Good luck tomorrow!"

"Thanks Will!"

The race was exhausting. Long. Hot. But I could make up two positions and crossed the line in P6, but due to a penalty I finished in P5. Not too bad for racing the first time around here.

"How do you feel?" Charles handed me a bottle of water and I looked up.

"Good?" I answered slowly and he looked around.

"It’s the beginning of the month…" he whispered and I smiled a little.

"I’m okay. A slight icky feeling here and there. One or two tiny cramps, but overall not like the last time… or I hope so? Did I turn into a monster again?"

"No, you didn’t." he chuckled "You were a little grumpy, but that could also be because of the heat."

"Yeah, that was really a lot… and then after a freaking exhausting race, when I wanted nothing more but a good, full fat ice cream someone brought me vanilla…" I winked at him and he pinched my side.

"What’s wrong with vanilla? It’s universal! It’s perfect to everything!" Charles asked dramatically.

"It’s boring. Bring me coconut, strawberry, mango, lemon, pistachio! Keep your bland vanilla to yourself!"

"Maybe you are a little monster again." he sighed and I slapped his arm "Just kidding… I’m just glad that it’s better this time. Seriously."

"Yeah, I guess my body adjusted to the new pills, maybe next time I’m completely fine again." I smiled and Charles put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him, kissing my head.

A comfortable silence fell over us as the jet brought us closer and closer to our destination. I was more than happy that Charles went with my team instead of his. I didn’t want him to fly alone, not when Japan was our next race.

As soon as we arrived in our hotel, Charles plugged my phone in, that had died on the way from the airport and looked at me.

"Seb tried to call you several times. He also texted you." he said.

"Huh? Seb?" I walked over and grabbed my phone.

"Did something happen?" Charles asked and I read the texts.

"Umm- no, nothing. He just wanted to check in on us. We hadn’t had the chance to talk in Singapore." I said and he nodded, rummaging through his suitcase.

"Andrea wants to go for a run, wanna join?"

"I’m a little tired. I’m going to lay down for a bit, before JK will torture me later on." I kissed his cheek and sat down on the sofa.

"Alright. If you need anything, just call me." he changed into shorts and a hoodie and put his running shoes on "Do you want to go out tonight for dinner, or order room service?"

"Umm…" I shrugged my shoulders.

"We decide spontaneously. See you later, cara mia." he kissed my head and left.

As soon as the door was closed I took my phone out and called Seb.

"Hey Lizzie, how are you?"

"I’m good, thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, you know me. All good." he chuckled a little.

"Yeah, as good as it could be coming out of the heat into the rain."

"That was a drastic change, not gonna lie. The reason why I wanted to talk to you is that I spoke with the FIA and Liberty Media in Singapore about your request. They officially lift the ban, on probation. Starting this weekend." he explained and my heart was racing.

"Okay. That’s good news! Thank you Seb, really!"

"It’s okay, kiddo. But Lizzie, if he crosses the line just slightly he will be out. Forever. There won’t be any complaint needed. The FIA and LM will state it exactly like this. It won’t fall back onto you." for him it would.

"Alright. Thank you! I knew I could count on you!"

"Always, kiddo. And now I gotta go, Britta looks like I forgot something and you know her." he laughed.

"Don’t let her wait then, say hi from me! I see you on Thursday!"

"Take care!" he hung up and I took a deep breath.

Was it over now? He got what he wanted. He could come back. I sent him a DM. The ban is lifted, on probation. Starting from this weekend. Only a moment later he answered and I swallowed hard. See you on Thursday.

To say I was a nervous wreck, would be an understatement. Charles was getting worried, I could tell by the way he looked at me, but I always waved his concerns off. When I saw that I was at the press conference together with Charles, Max, Seb and Lewis my heart sank in my stomach. Press conference meant he would be there. According to Seb he had gotten a mail, that stated if he crossed the line ever again, he would be banned for life. But I had a bad feeling. As soon as Tom Clarkson opened up the floor for questions and I made eye contact with Diaz, I knew he would find a way around the set conditions. I didn’t listen to any of the questions, just as Charles patted my arm a little I looked up.

"Sorry? Can you- umm can you repeat the question, I was a little out of it." I apologised, not even knowing who I should look at. Charles was watching me, knowing that something was off. I had to calm down and focus. Don’t be suspicious.

"Sure. You tested here in F2 for Ferrari and Sauber in the past, now it’s your first race in Suzuka. Knowing that we might have a race in the rain and the Audi seemed to struggle a little under these conditions, what do you think is possible for you this weekend?" a woman in the front row asked.

"First off, I’m really excited about racing here. It’s an amazing track. Tricky but fun. As for the struggles with the car, I wouldn’t say it’s the rain, that created the problems, it was rather me who struggled a little, as Valtteri was doing just fine. But I worked on my issues and I think we have good chances for double points this weekend."

"Mike Gellner, Danskesport. Lizzie, we all know of course about your Netflix deal, which sparked a lot of uproar, people saying that a rookie who didn’t achieve anything shouldn’t be given a platform like that. Drivers like Max, Lewis, Seb or Fernando would be more deserving. What do you say about that?"

"It wasn’t my idea. Netflix approached me, asking if I would like to do it. I saw it as an opportunity to promote girls in motorsports. That’s it. Max, Lewis, Seb or Fernando sure as hell would deserve their own spin-off each, but that’s not my decision to make. Whoever has a problem, talk to Netflix."

"Alright, another question? Yes." Clarkson nodded at him and I immediately tensed up.

"Salva Diaz, ESPN Spain, Question for Lizzie." my heart almost jumped out of my chest, when I looked at him, sinister smile on his lips.

In the corner of my eye I could clearly see how Charles next to me clenched his jaw, shoulders tense, he knew who Diaz was. He stared at him with cold eyes, hands clenched into fists. I felt a pressure on my chest, breathing constricted, I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. My ears began to ring as I watched how Diaz opened his mouth and asked his question, my mind didn’t even register the words he was saying. No matter how hard I tried to calm myself down, to listen to him, not show him, anyone in here, that I had a full on panic attack, it was to no avail. And then it happened all too fast. My brain couldn’t even fully process it. I blinked once, twice and then I saw Max holding back a furious Charles. Salva Diaz with a bloody nose and lip on the floor. Empty chairs scattered around him on the floor. Charles voice making it through the brain fog.

"Let go of me, Max!" he was fighting with everything he had and a seemingly struggling Max tried to reason with him.

"He’s not worth it, okay? Think of your goddamn hands. You can’t risk an injury. Calm down man!"

"I don’t care." Charles almost made it out of Max’ hold as two security guards stormed in. One helping Max, holding Charles back and the other pulling Diaz up off the floor, leading him outside. Charles looked after him and his eyes fell on me, he pushed Max and the security guard off and walked over to me.

"Get her out of here." Seb whispered and Charles nodded, pulling me up off the sofa, leading me outside. He was awfully quiet and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything so I followed him quietly. My mind was reeling. Heart racing. What the fuck just happened.

Charles POV:

She was shaking. Pale face, lips bitten raw. Her breathing ragged. I held her hand tight in mine and lead her back to the Audi hospitality. There was an eerie silence in the paddock when we made our way through it. Everyone was staring at us. But no one said a single word. JK and Julie stood outside, looking at us, waving us inside and I pulled Lizzie with me, up the stairs. I pushed her down on a sofa and crouched down in front of her, cupping her cheeks.

"Lizzie?" I asked softly and her eyes, looking frantically around before, focused on me "Can you take a few deep breaths for me, please?" she nodded slightly and took a deep breath, but she scrunched up her face in pain immediately "Come on, you can do it. Let’s start with little ones, okay? Inhale 1,2,3. Hold it. Exhale. And again." within the next minutes she was able to breathe normally again and JK handed her a glass of water, which she jugged down in one go "Are you okay?"

"What happened?" her voice was barely a whisper when she looked around.

"What do you mean?" I took her hands in mine and she looked down, her eyes widening in horror.

"Charles! Your hand!" she panicked and I cupped her cheek with my other hand.

"Hey! Hey! Look at me. I’m okay! What do you mean, what happened?" I tried to calm her down.

"He was asking me a question and you… you launched at him! Why?" Lizzie sounded genuinely confused.

"Didn’t you hear what he was asking?"

"Honestly? No. I think… I spaced out." she mumbled and I sighed, happy that she didn’t hear his question.

"You’re a little out of it the last days, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a lot in my mind… but Charles, no matter what he said, what the hell were you thinking?" she was upset, I could tell, maybe even more than just upset.

"I honestly don’t know. I saw how you tensed up as soon as he began to speak, you were trembling and then what he said. I just lost it. And he deserved it!" I sat down next to her and she leaned in, resting her head on my shoulder.

"What did he say?" she whispered but I shook my head.

"You didn’t hear it, it’s better like this." I said and she sighed.

"Do you think you’ll get in trouble for punching him?"

"I don’t know and I don’t care. I stand by my word, he deserved it." my phone vibrated and I knew without looking who it was "Cara mia, I hate to leave you now, but Sylvia and Mattia are blowing up my phone…"

"It’s okay! Really! I don’t want you to be in even more trouble! Go!" Lizzie sat up and kissed my cheek "And please put a cool pack on your hand…"

"I will, I promise. I call you later." I got up and kissed her head, when I walked out I signalled JK to follow me "Make sure that she doesn’t watch the press conference, okay?"

"I got you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of her." he patted my back and I nodded.

"Thank you."

I sat down, Mattia looked like he wanted to be everywhere but here, Sylvia was seething.

"Charles. The FIA made it clear, that they need you to apolo-…" Sylvia began.

"Not gonna happen." I interrupted her and she shook her head.

"You don’t understand, this isn’t just about the FIA fining you, this could have serious consequences if you don’t show any kind of remorse!" she said.

"I don’t care. They can fine me, punish me in any way. I won’t apologise to him. You heard what he said! He was banned for 10 races, he shouldn’t even be here, but the FIA broke their promise to Lizzie! If someone should apologise then it’s them!" I was furious.

"Charles, think about yourself for a moment. He can sue you! And if that doesn’t matter to you, then… then think about the Scuderia!" Mattia said and I looked at him.

"We should stand with Lizzie! Support her! Protect her! That would look better on us than allowing this asshole his constant verbal attacks on Lizzie!" I slammed my fist on the table "I won’t apologise. And that’s my final answer!" I got up and left, Mia already waiting for me.

"You know that I usually don’t agree with Sylvia… but she’s right this time Charles." she said and I groaned.

"Not you as well! Does anybody care for Lizzie? She had a panic attack when she spotted him in the crowd!"

"I didn’t say that he didn’t deserve it. And in my opinion you could’ve hit him a bit more as well. But you should apologise nonetheless." she looked at me but I shook my head.

"Sorry, but I can’t." my answer was final.

The whole Friday and Saturday was spent between practices, quali and meetings with a whole bunch of different people, all trying to make me apologise. The last attempt was on Sunday morning, when I arrived at the paddock with Lizzie and Stefano Domenicali himself passed us up, asking for a word. Lizzie looked confused between him and I.

"What’s going on?" she asked.

"Umm- it’s between Charles and…" he began but I interrupted him.

"My answer is still no. Not gonna happen." I sighed but he was persistent.

"Charles this isn’t about you alone. As this was an official Formula 1 event, he can’t only sue us as operator, but also the FIA as the governing organisation." he was running out of patience, I could tell.

"Who can sue you? What is this about?" Lizzie looked at him.

"The reporter, Salva Diaz, he threatens to sue us."

"Maybe if he wouldn’t be there, like you promised Lizzie, it wouldn’t have happened. He was banned for 10 races, not 4, if I remember correctly…" I was getting mad.

"Charles…" Lizzie began, grabbing my arm.

"No, Lizzie, they had one job and one job only. Protecting you. And he still found a way in here. Still found a way to attack you like that! So no. If he sues me. Fine. If he sues them. Not my problem." I said in French but she only shook her head and looked away. The way Domenicali looked at her and the way she avoided looking at me felt like they knew something I didn’t.

"I guess you take care of it from here on." he said to Lizzie and walked away.

"Take care of what? What does he mean?" I asked her and she sighed.

"I asked them to lift the ban." she mumbled.

"You did what?" I couldn’t believe my ears.

"You didn’t see what they all were writing after he posted that he was banned from the races because of me! They were saying all kinds of things like they wouldn’t do something like that for any other driver, but because I’m a girl and hypersensitive… it was getting all too much! So I thought that if I just show that I don’t care, be the bigger person, then maybe it would stop them from writing all these things about me." she sounded exhausted.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" I asked her.

"Because I have to be strong enough to go through these kinda things alone… I can’t always rely on you, or anyone else…" she almost whispered it and I took her hand and pulled her behind a container.

"You are the strongest person I know, cara mia! And I know that you can handle all of this alone! But you don’t have to! Please let me help you! Tell me these kinda things!" I pleaded and she nodded slowly.

"Can you please apologise? For me?" she asked and I sighed.

"I honestly don’t know why I should do it."

"Charles please! I don’t want you to be punished by them! I don’t want you to be in trouble because of me! Please! Just say you’re sorry, film it and post it!" she pulled me closer, our lips almost touching "Please Charlie, for me?"

"Fine." I gave in and pulled my phone out "Here. Record it." she took it and I closed my eyes for a moment, then I gave her the thumbs up and she nodded, pressing record. I knew that Sylvia would be mad as hell when she would see the video, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to use a fabricated statement. I said what I had to say. I shouldn’t resort to violence. It was wrong. I’m sorry.

"Thank you. Really." Lizzie kissed me softly and we walked towards the hospitalities and as predicted a seething Sylvia waited for me.

"Oh. That doesn’t look good, see you later!" Lizzie whispered and walked off.

"Charles. Can we talk?" Sylvia pressed out as soon as I was close enough.

"I apologised. I used my words. I posted it. I apologised to Diaz, the FIA, F1, the team and the Tifosi. That’s enough. I won’t say more. And now I prepare for the race. Thank you." I said and walked inside, not waiting for an answer.

It wasn’t raining as much as before and the race could finally start. I wiped my visor for the last time, before I focused on the lights. As much as I loved this track, I also loathed it. Especially under these conditions. The lights went out and I was fully focused on racing. Nothing else in my mind than chasing Max. I had a good start, almost passing Max. The track was slippery, traction more or less given, the sight as well. It felt like we just started the race as the double yellow flags were waved.

"Double yellow. Safety car deployed." I heard Xavi say.

"What happened?"

"Sainz lost the car into turn 11."

"Is he okay?"

"He is okay."

"Good." my voice was slightly shaking. As I looked up I saw on one of the screens what happened. Thank god Carlos was okay. I kept on driving. Just to see an Audi spinning off track on another screen. My insides started churning, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on on the next screen, but my heart clenched when I saw a recovery vehicle on the track. And several cars breezing past it. The first thing I thought of was Jules. Then Lizzie. Fear creeping down my spine. Was the tractor because of Carlos? Or the Audi? Who was it? Lizzie or Valtteri? Where did the Audi spin out? Close to the tractor? My fear turned into anger. Why was there a recovery vehicle on track. With cars still driving on track. Why was there no red flag? I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the track ahead, pushing my fear and anger back.

"Red flag. Red flag. Return to the pit lane."

I drove back into the pits and got out of the car, running back to find Lizzie. With every step that I took without seeing her, the pit in my stomach got heavier and heavier. I had to find her, but my knees started to buckle and I couldn’t breathe. I felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it.

"Charles? Hey! Take your helmet off." the faint voice of Sebastian fought its way through the ringing in my ears and I turned around "Your shaking and I can hear you heaving through your helmet. Take it off."

"Lizzie…" barely a whisper and Seb turned me slightly to the side, relieve flooding me. She climbed out of her car, taking her gloves off. She looked at our direction and I felt tears streaming down my face, running towards her. I almost crushed her body into mine, holding her tight. Shaking.

"I’m okay. All good." she said and I shook my head "I spun out but I’m fine. Nothing happened. A bruised ego maybe. But that’s okay."

"The tractor… you… I didn’t… I only saw… Jules…" my voice hoarse and broken.

"I know. It’s okay." I didn’t let go of her. I didn’t care if we would be filmed or photographed. I couldn’t let go of her. Not yet "Mon cœur? I’m okay! Really!" she whispered in French and just then I let go of her, still reluctantly.

"You’re really okay?" I asked and she nodded, taking her helmet off, when she saw my trembling hands she unclasped mine as well and helped me pulling it off. When I pulled the balaclava off I tried to wipe away the tears but the rain kept pouring down on us, it didn’t matter.

"Let’s go find Pierre…" she said and I looked at her "Look." I followed her look and saw Pierre breezing past the tractor dangerously close "He was really close to it. And still pretty fast."

"Why was there a tractor on track? While we were still racing? What the fuck? Didn’t they learn anything? Do they really need another Ju-" I stopped and she cupped my cheek.

"Let’s go, Charlie." she took my hand and pulled me towards the Alpha Tauri garage where a pale Pierre stood at the side. Eyes almost dead "Pierre?" Lizzie approached him carefully and he looked up, as soon as Lizzie was close enough she pulled him into a tight hug.

"They let it on track. While we were racing." he mumbled and I nodded, he was right.

"I know." Lizzie whispered.

"Haven’t they learned anything? Especially here?"

"I know." she repeated, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Are you okay? I saw you off track." Pierre pulled away and she nodded.

"I spun out, there was no traction and I lost it. I’m okay."

"You?" he looked at me and I nodded, patting his back.

"I’m just glad you are okay, I had the worst images in my head." I mumbled and Lizzie squeezed my arm.

"We’re all good, okay? What happened out there wasn’t okay. But we are!" she looked at us and I slowly nodded.

"Yeah… we’re ok." Pierre said as someone called him over and he looked at them.

"It’s okay, go. We’ll see you after the race." I said and Lizzie and I left.

"I want this race to be over. This day to be over." I mumbled as we walked back to our teams.

"Same." we stopped in front of the Audi garage "Go check on your team mate. I’ll check on my car."

"If I don’t see you before the restart, please drive careful! Drive safe. Take care, okay?" I hugged her tight "I’m serious! Please be careful, cara mia."

"I will, I promise! The same goes for you! And I want to see you on that podium!" she whispered back and I had to smile.

"I’ll try my best."

I sat on a container, scrolling through my phone, the reactions were all the same. The FIA had fucked up. They knew it. We knew it. And they did what they did the best, blame everyone but themselves. Pierre their newest victim. I scoffed and locked my phone, when Andrea approached.

"Ciao bella, how are you?" he asked and hugged me.

"I’m doing okay. I mean yeah, it was scary but luckily nothing happened… how is he?" I asked looking over his shoulder at Charles, head down, making his way to us.

But before he could answer Charles was already in front of us.

"Can we go? Please?" he almost whispered and I nodded, jumping of the container. He looked pale. Disheveled. Exhausted.

"Let’s go." I took his hand in mine and he looked up "It’s late. Almost no one’s here anymore."

"Thank you." he pulled me close to his side. We walked fast through the paddock to the car park where JK waited for us with my bag.

"Thanks!" I said and he just nodded "Okay… umm JK? Andrea? Why don’t you guys go ahead back to the hotel? Here…" I said and handed JK my car key. Charles looked up and Andrea nodded and followed JK.

"Come on. Let’s drive." I said and we walked to Charles car.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he opened the door for me.

"You’ll see!" I said and kissed his cheek, then got into the car. I pulled my phone out of my bag and googled our first stop, as Charles got in the car "Alright, let’s go."

Apart from me giving directions, we drove in silence, Charles hand on my thigh, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. As we arrived at the first stop I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"I’ll be right back." I got out of the car and walked into the little convenient store. I picked up a basket and walked through the different aisles. I grabbed a variety of different chips, chocolate bars and picked out our two favourite flavours of Ben&Jerry’s and put them in the basket as well, along with some wooden spoons. At the counter the young cashier looked at me intently and I smiled at him as he packed everything into a paper bag. I handed him my credit card and when he gave it back with my receipt he looked at me nervously.

"Can I maybe take a picture?" he asked a little shy and I smiled.

"Yeah, he won’t have a problem with that." I said and he shook his head.

"No. With you! I’m a huge fan." he said and I smiled even wider.

"Really? Of course we can take a picture!" I said and he smiled and walked around the counter.

We took a selfie together and he stared at the picture on his phone.

"Thank you so much!"

"No worries! Have a wonderful night!" I said and with a little wave I left the store and got back into the car.

"Okay, let’s go." I said and started my navigation on the phone again.

"And you won’t tell me, where we’re going?" Charles asked and I shook my head.

"Nope. But you’ll see in a couple of minutes." I answered and he sighed a little, but followed my directions.

We rolled onto a little parking lot and I got out of the car. I grabbed my backpack and opened it to pull out the blanket together with two hoodies, both Charles’. I grabbed the bag with the snacks and walked over to Charles.

"Come on. Close your eyes and just trust me." I reached my hand out and he took it, then he closed his eyes and together we walked towards the little dunes in front, shortly after we stepped on the beach. I guided Charles a couple of metres onto it, closer to the shore and dropped his hand.

"Wait a minute." I said and handed him the paper bag. I laid out the big blanket. Threw the hoodies on it before I took the bag out of his hands again. I laid out the snacks on the blanket and then turned to Charles.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now." I said and he slowly did it. He blinked a little and looked around. As he saw the blanket he smiled and pulled me into him.

"A picnic at the beach?" he chuckled a little and I nodded.

"Well it’s an unhealthy one. And also a little cold one. But yeah…" I laughed and he hugged me for another minute close to his body. Then he kissed my forehead and I smiled "Come on, the ice cream is melting… or not, I don’t know, it’s not really warm." I pulled him down on the blanket and handed him his hoodie, then I pulled the other one over my head.

"What do we have here?" Charles asked and looked at the different snacks and I shrugged my shoulders.

"I’m only sure about the Lay’s chips, the lemonade and the ice cream, the rest? No idea!" I chuckled and grabbed a candy bar "But I’d say let’s find out!" I opened it and bit in. Charles looked at me and I just shook my head "Oh god! That’s too sweet!" I handed it over to Charles who took a bite and frowned a little as well.

"Yeah. That’s pure sugar." he said and wrapped the rest of the candy bar before he put it down.

We tried some of the other snacks, some good, some really bad as I began to shiver a little. The wind picked up slightly and another hoodie would’ve been amazing. Charles noticed it and spread his legs, then pulled me in between and I cuddled into him.

"Better?" he whispered in my ear and I nodded.

"Much better!" I grabbed the ice cream and showed Charles the flavours "Which one?"

"You decide!" he said and I opened up one tub and scooped up some ice cream before feeding it to Charles "How I knew which one you would choose." he chuckled and I ate a scoop full myself.

We sat in silence, enjoying the ice cream, the calmness of the night, the city lights in front, the waves crushing down the shore. After a while Charles kissed my temple and pulled me closer into him.

"Thank you, mon amour." he whispered in my ear and I turned my head to look at him, saw how the weight of the day was lifted off his shoulders a little and I leaned in. He kissed me immediately and our cold lips tasted like ice cream with a hint of sea salt. I felt myself melting into his touch, his heat, and I turned around, not breaking our kiss. I settled down on his lap, slinging my arms around his neck, hands nestled in his hair as I pulled a little at it. Charles groaned into our kiss and pulled away a little and looked at me. Fire in his eyes.

"Stop doing that… you know what that does to me!" he was out of breath and I wiggled a little in his lap and he groaned again "Lizzie!" He grabbed my waist before he kissed me again. This time more hungry. Fierce. Passionate.

"Pretty girl, you seriously need to get up now! Come on!" Charles gently rubbed my arm and I sighed, pulling the sheets over my head, but he pulled them right back and I opened my eyes "Get your cute little ass out of bed! We need to leave soon!"

I mumbled something incoherent and sat up slowly. Our suitcases were packed, there was a fresh set of clothes on the table with my toiletry bag and my phone and headphones were plugged in.

"Did I ever tell you, how amazing you are?" I nuzzled my head in the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. Humming contently. Charles pulled away slightly, cupping my cheek with his hand and looked at me.

"All the time, cara mia, all the time." he said quietly and leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head slightly.

"I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet…" I mumbled and he chuckled a little, tilting my head back in place.

"I don’t care…" he whispered against my lips before capturing them in a gentle kiss. I could taste the peppermint of his toothpaste on my lips, my tongue, making me all too aware of the fact that I hadn’t had my teeth brushed yet and I pulled away slightly.

"When do we have to leave?" I asked, feeling the heat in my cheeks, the tingling sensation all over my body.

"In 30 minutes." Charles answered, sounding a little breathless.

"Alright, that’s enough time for a quick shower…" I slowly got up and stretched, my bones creaking. I walked to the table, grabbing my clothes and toiletry bag as Charles hugged me from behind.

"Thank you…" he whispered, kissing my shoulder.

"For getting up in time?" I asked and he chuckled.

"No, silly girl, thank you for last night… Suzuka is never easy… all the bad memories… but after what happened yesterday? When I saw the replay of Pierre being this close to that tractor? And knowing you were also on that track? Just thinking of…" Charles began but his voice cracked and I turned around, hugging him close.

"But nothing happened, okay? We’re all good! Pierre is ok. I’m ok. You’re ok. All is good, you hear me?" I whispered, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Yeah, but still… what you did last night. I needed that. I needed to forget what happened, needed to take my mind off of it… thank you, mon amour." he kissed the column of my throat and I shuddered a little.

"Just as all the times you lifted me up, I’ll do the same for you. It’s you and me against the world, remember?" I said and Charles chuckled lightly.

"Always."

For Charles 25th birthday I reserved the VIP area of one of his favourite clubs in Monaco and invited all our friends. I gathered everyone and nervously checked the time. 2 minutes until midnight. One of the waiters looked at me and I nodded at him, it was time. Looking for Charles, I found him close to the bar where he was talking to Joris and Riccardo like we planned it.

"Charles? Can I talk to you for a second?" I whispered into his ear from behind, Joris and Riccardo nodding slightly at me, walking away.

"Sure, what’s up cara mia?" he put his arm around my waist, pulling me close.

"I need to show you something! Come on!" I took his hand and pulled him towards the VIP area and as soon as we took the 3 steps up the big 25 lit up with sparkles right behind the huge cake, adorned with another 25 candles.

"Happy Birthday!" we all screamed and Charles smiled, eyes lighting up, dimples showing. He turned to me and I could see the look in his eyes, I knew he wanted to kiss me so bad. He hugged me close, kissing my cheek.

"Thank you so much, cara mia." he whispered and I smiled.

"Happy Birthday, Charlie." I whispered back, then pulling away kissing his cheeks "Come on!" I pushed him towards his cake and the whole club sang Happy Birthday for him, his cheeks turning slightly pink, which made him look even more adorable.

"Will you help me?" Charles looked at me as he bent down to blow out the candles and I nodded "Alright. 3… 2… 1… blow!"

All of our friends came up to congratulate Charles and I stayed back a little.

"He looks happy." Daniel said and I looked up at him "Maybe even happier if he could’ve kissed his girlfriend at 12…"

"What?" I gasped, looking frantically around.

"Your sister told me. But I know it’s a secret so I won’t tell, don’t worry." he whispered and I nodded "And please don’t be mad at Sissy! It just slipped out when we were on the phone and Liam asked her something!"

"It’s okay. As long as you keep it to yourself!" I chuckled a little and he saluted.

"Yes mam!" he took a swig of his drink and then squeezed my shoulder before he walked over to Charles, who was talking to Max and Pierre.

"Why do you look so tense? Come on! Loosen up a little!" Joris bumped into me and Shima next to him nodded.

"Yeah, here, take a shot with us and then let’s dance!"

Charles POV:

"There he is! The man of the hour!" Daniel slurred and Max tried to keep him upright.

"He had one drink too much I think." he laughed and I nodded.

"That’s why we’re here after all!" I clinked my glas with theirs and Daniel laughed.

"Hell yes!" Daniel shouted and I chuckled.

"Can I leave him with you for a moment?" Max asked and I nodded.

"Sure!"

I sipped on my drink, watching how Lizzie was dancing with Shima and Marta. Daniel followed my look and smiled.

"I’m happy for you guys, I already told Lizzie, Sissy let it slip out when I was on the phone with her and Liam asked something about you two." he said and I nodded.

"You have no idea how happy I am." I chuckled and he lifted his glass.

"To the beautiful Doetterer sisters!" Daniel smiled and I nodded.

"Cheers to that!" I said and took a swig of my drink "And thanks for coming!"

"Wouldn’t miss it in the world. When Lizzie asks me to come, then I come! No questions asked!" he mumbled a little.

"Yeah, I know. She has this effect on people, one look in her eyes and you would do everything for her!" I laughed.

"Exactly!" Daniel nodded "That’s why Charlotte and I kept quiet about Silverstone, the look she gave us? How could we say no?" Daniel said hastily and I looked up.

"What happened in Silverstone?" I was confused.

"That guy who grabbed her?" Daniel said and looked at me questioningly, but then he sat up, eyes widened "Oh shit! Fuck! I shouldn’t have said that!"

"What guy? Grabbed her how?" I was sober in an instant.

"Charles, I didn’t- fuck! I had to promise her I wouldn’t tell anyone!" he looked away, cursing under his breath.

"What happened in Silverstone?" I asked again and got up. Looking at Lizzie. My mind reeling. Thoughts spinning. Silverstone. Anxiety attack. Tears. A lot of tears. Bruises on her jaw and wrist. Lizzie being out of it. What the fuck happened in Silverstone? I had to leave. Get out of here. Fresh air. I walked out of the booth and when Lizzie looked at me, our eyes met. She smiled. But it froze when she saw the look on my face. She excused herself from Marta and Shima and came my way. I turned around and left. Outside. Just away. Just one moment to sort out the mess in my brain.

"Charles?" I heard her faint voice calling out for me but I couldn’t bear to look at her. Not now. I saw the cab at the corner and kept on walking "Charles! Wait!"

"Hi, are you free?" I leaned down and asked the driver who just nodded "Perfect." I got in the car and he drove off, I turned a little and saw Lizzie running up to the car, stopping when she realised she wouldn’t reach us in time. I swallowed hard. Turning back around, sinking into the seat. What happened in Silverstone? Who was that guy who grabbed her? Grabbed her how? What did he do to her? Lizzie’s face when she crouched on the floor, staring at her broken trophy, came to my mind. Lizzie. What the fuck was I doing? Why was I running away from her? She was the one who was attacked? I should run to her, hug her, love her. Not leaving her alone "Stop. Please. I have to get out." the driver looked at me confused and pulled over. I handed him some money and opened the door.

"Wait! That’s way too much! Your change!" the driver said.

"Keep it." I closed the door and the cab drove off. I leaned against the wall and looked around, groaning. I should’ve stayed in the cab, taking me back to the club. I pushed off the wall and started walking, searching my pockets for my phone to call Lizzie, but realised that I had left it at the club.

"Fuck!" I yelled and groaned in frustration. What happened in Silverstone? The question plopped up again and again in my mind. Why didn’t she tell me? But Daniel and Charlotte? I looked up to see where I was and choked up. Of course. The only place I went to, when I had no idea where else to go and needed advice. I took a deep breath and pushed the gate open, walking through the narrow aisles until I reached my destination. I sat down on the stone bench and closed my eyes for a second.

"I haven’t been here in a while, sorry, but a lot has happened. Like really a lot. Lizzie and I. We’re together now. Finally. It’s amazing, really. I never thought that this was what love felt like… it’s all consuming, it’s mind blowing, it sometimes feels like I’m suffocating, but in a good kind of way? Lizzie… she’s, god she’s so amazing, but you know that already, it’s like she makes every day better, every high feels higher with her, every low feels not as low… god, I love her. So much. And that’s why it kills me to say this, but I think I failed her. Couldn’t protect her. Made her feel like she couldn’t be honest with me. Something happened and she didn’t tell me about it, worse even, she wanted to keep it a secret from me… I don’t know what that means, I really could need your advice now, Dad.

"He talked to Danny Ric and then he ran away! Where is he!" I was nervous, even more so when I tried to call Charles, but saw his phone on the sofa of the booth he and Daniel were sitting, before he ran away.

"Where is Danny Ric now?" Shima asked and looked around.

"He left with Max a couple of minutes ago. He was really drunk." Joris said and I groaned.

"What the fuck happened?!" I looked around, still hoping Charles would just come up the 3 stairs and all would be good "I need to find him!"

"And how do you want to find him?" Joris asked and I sighed.

"I look everywhere where he could be, at home, his yacht, his mum’s place?" I was desperate.

"Okay, let’s go." he said and grabbed my hand.

"Text us when you find him!" Riccardo said I hugged him and Marta goodbye.

"I will." I smiled a little and together with Shima and Joris I left.

I walked back the dock and Shima and Joris looked at me, hopefully. I shook my head and Shima sighed.

"Where else could he be? At your place?" Shima asked and I shook my head.

"He doesn’t have a key yet…" I whispered leaning against the car, the cold wind made me shiver, after I forgot my jacket in the club. Joris looking apologetic at me, after he gave Shima his jacket already.

"Let’s get inside the car and think. You’ll freeze to death and Charles would burry me alive for that…" he opened the door for me to get in when it hit me.

"How could I be so stupid? Of course…" I smacked my palm against my forehead "I think I know where he is." I mumbled and Joris looked up.

"Yeah? Alright! Then let’s go."

I looked back at Shima and Joris and nodded slowly, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. I pushed open the gate and took a few hesitant steps at first. He’ll be here. I could feel it.

"Charles?" I whispered and he didn’t move, but I saw how his shoulders, his whole back tensed up and knew that he heard me. I walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder "What are you doing here?"

"I needed some advice." his voice was hoarse, strained with pain "When I don’t know what to do anymore, when I feel like I lost control, I come here and talk to him." he straightened his back, still not turning around.

"You know that you can also talk to me?" I whispered and he scoffed.

"Really? Can I?" he said, turning a little, looking up at me, his eyes glossy but cold "So when I ask you what happened in Silverstone, would you tell me the truth? Or would you keep on lying?"

I took my hand off of his shoulder, taking a step back. His voice was cold, laced with anger. He didn’t break eye contact, kept on staring at me, waiting for an answer. An answer I wasn’t ready to give. Or rather, I wasn’t prepared to give.

"Silence. That’s what I thought." he got up, taking a step in my direction and for some reason I took one back. Charles stopped immediately, looking at me with wide eyes.

"I’m sorry." I whispered, Charles expression unreadable.

"What happened in Silverstone, Lizzie." he repeated and I looked down.

"I- I can’t…" I choked out, my throat felt tight, making it difficult to swallow. My eyes stung with fresh tears. And I felt myself starting to shake a little.

"Lizzie, please… I need to hear it from you… and not the half version from Daniel, imagining the worst…" Charles took another step closer, his words pleading.

"He shouldn’t even… it’s just that… I- I don’t…" my voice started to crack, seeing the stress and fear in Charles eyes, made me feel even worse.

"I tell you what I know. I know that when I came to pick you up, you had this look in your eyes, like you were lost, the light was almost gone, I thought it was because of Hans, what I know is that I heard you scream out in pain in your driver room and when I rushed in you had a panic attack, you almost couldn’t breathe and told me it was because you dropped your trophy, what I know is that that bruise on your hip looked horrible, and I really don’t know how I could be so fucking stupid believing your story that you bumped into the table. What I know is that you had a heavily bruised jaw and wrist and were hiding it from me, then blaming Liam and Benji for it. What I know is that after Silverstone you always looked around like you would search for someone, I’m not even sure that you noticed that yourself. What I know now is that a guy grabbed you and Daniel and Charlotte helped you cover it up. Connecting the dots, I know now that you were frantically looking around, scared to see the face of the guy who attacked you and…"

"Stop." my voice was thin, throat aching, constricting my neck even more. I bit my lips to keep them from trembling, hot tears threatening to slip out the more I tried to blink them away.

"What happened Lizzie?" Charles cupped my cheeks making me look up at him "Please Lizzie, please let me help you and tell me the truth, do you know who it was?!"

I closed my eyes, Salva Diaz’ words burning inside my head. The anonymous letter with the business card. Tick Tock. Your time is ticking. I’m running out of patience. The comment underneath the post. What a sweet family they all are! you can only wish them health and happiness. Him being in Suzuka, crossing the line yet again just to get punched by Charles. I took a deep breath. Gathering myself. Opening my eyes.

"I don’t know who it was. It happened so fast." another lie, added to the pile of the ones I already told because of Diaz.

"Lizzie…" Charles began but I shook my head.

"I’ll tell you everything, everything that happened." I said and he nodded, leading me to the little bench where we sat down. I took another deep breath and lied. Again. Telling a story of a drunk guy, who didn’t want to accept a girl driving in F1. A drunk guy, who I maybe or maybe not would recognise in a sea of faces surrounding me. The whole time I kept looking down on my hands. Charles didn’t interrupt me once. When I finished we sat there in silence.

"I’m- I’m sorry." I sobbed, hating myself with every breath I took more and more.

"Don’t apologise…" Charles whispered, taking my hand in his, pulling me into him, kissing my temple.

"I just… I didn’t want to tell you… you already had enough on your plate with Ferrari and- and I know you. You wouldn’t let this just slip. You would try to find out who that guy was. You would be out for his blood and I just- I didn’t want you to do something stupid…" I whispered, at least now I was telling the truth.

"You’re right… now that I know that… I am out for his blood and when I’ll find him, he…" Charles began but I shook my head.

"See! That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you! Charles, look at me, please. You have to promise me, no, really! You have to promise me to not do anything stupid! Charles please! The only reason why I told you all this was because I wanted to be honest with you! So please, please don’t do anything stupid!" I pleaded, swallowing down the bile that rose up as soon as I took the word honest in my mouth.

Charles looked at me, his eyes studying my face and I knew that he tried to read me, figure out if I told him the whole truth and I knew I had to convince him. I tried to look as desperate as I could, scared even, to mask the nervousness his mustering gaze made me feel. He nodded slowly and I let out a breath, I didn’t know I was holding in.

"Okay. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise." he hugged me closer, kissing the side of my head "But you have to promise me something in return."

"Anything." I said immediately and Charles gently tilted my head up, looking me deep in the eyes.

"Promise me, no more lies. No more secrets."

I swallowed hard, feeling my lungs deflating.

"I promise." I lied breathlessly, hugging him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Blinking tears away. One more lie. But this one, heavier than all the other ones combined.

Chapter 26 - a looot to unpack here. Japan last year was a shitshow, I had to bring it up. Seems like they both can’t catch a break. Last chapter for 2023 ✔️ but I can tell you, we’ll start the New Year off with a BANG 👀

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[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3902

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Mention of Sex, some angst, And the slow burn begins.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

Bobby had packed up quicker than what the original plan was and showed up at the bunker two days later. Maria and Jess helped him bring everything in. God her uncle had a lot of books and none of the boxes were light.

He picked a room not too far down the hall from Maria’s and that was where a third of his boxes were taken. That would at least allow him to go through them and figure out what he wanted to do with them all. The other two-thirds of his boxes were stacked neatly in the library.

“Boys not back yet?” Bobby asked once all his stuff was inside.

“They should be here tomorrow,” Jess told him when Maria joined them in the library.

“Have you heard from John yet?” he asked Maria.

She sighed and shook her head, “No, and neither have the boys, at least not as of their call yesterday.”

He sighed and looked around the library, “I left him a message too. That man is stubborn as hell.”

“Well, no one gave him any real details so he couldn’t just run off on his own,” Maria told him.

“He’ll show up, eventually,” Bobby replied with a chuckle.

“Oh, we’re all getting tattoos and no one is arguing with me on this one,” Maria told the two of them.

“Excuse me?” Bobby retorted, not liking being told he was getting a tattoo, even from his niece.

“I came across it in one of the books on demons,” she began as she moved the books around on the table, looking for one in specific, “It’s an anti-possession sigil, and we all need one.”

It took her a moment to not only find the book but also the page the information was on, then showed it to her uncle as Jess looked over his shoulder, “So yeah, tattoos,” Maria said proudly, not giving them a chance to argue.

Bobby groaned as he read the information. The girl was good at finding things, although he wasn’t keen on the idea of a tattoo. Jess thought that the tattoo idea could be fun, and it was a nice image. It could have looked a lot worse and she knew it, as she’d read a lot in the last couple of days.

“You told the boys yet?” Bobby asked after handing the book back to her.

“Nope,” she replied, popping the ‘p’, “Figured I’d surprise ‘em.” she finished with a smirk.

That had at least made Bobby smile as he imagined their faces, “Have you found a way to deal with Azazel?” he finally asked them.

Maria frowned, as did Jess, “No, not yet, but now that you’re here, another set of eyes to help is always a good thing,” she ended with a small smile, not wanting to sound hopeful.

The three of them read through books and files before Maria got up around four to go make dinner, needing to give her eyes a rest but too ansty to sit down anywhere. Her mind was also too full to focus on anything else. She was still trying to figure out how to approach Dean when he got back, as she never forgot the bet between her and Jess. 

She made a simple dinner, burgers, and fries, and even cleaned up afterward. She felt burnt out on research and needed a change of scenery but hadn’t felt the desire to go anywhere either. So, after dinner, she just bid them good night and went to her room. Maria plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t long before a light blue and white glow from her top dresser drawer caught her attention.

“I don’t want more dreams,” she groaned as she covered her eyes with her arm.

The light from the book pulsed and she groaned again, like a child putting off a chore before she finally got up and opened the drawer, “Fine. I guess I can’t put it off much longer,” she sighed as she pulled the book out of its box.

The glow went away when she touched it. With everything that had been going on, she hadn’t wanted to add more to her plate but apparently, the book had other ideas. So now she was leaning against her headboard, rereading the chapter on Zamariel, for the fourth time. She had read it three times when she’d first discovered the book back at her Uncle’s, fourteen years ago. That thought made her pause and look up. Had it really been that long already, she thought to herself and shook her head a bit.

She still wasn’t aware the book was written in Enochian. It just looked like normal words to her. Maria read long into the night, far more information than she could absorb in one sitting or one read-through. Around midnight she finally put the book down on her night table before rubbing her eyes.

“Damn,” she sighed as she looked at her clock, twelve thirteen, “Guess time flies when you’re into something.”

When she clicked off her lamp and curled up in bed, she prayed that the dreams wouldn’t come, even though she knew they would. She already felt so overwhelmed with everything else that was going on, she thought that perhaps this would push her back toward whiskey if it was too much, feeling as though she was at a breaking point with her waking world. She even fought sleep for almost another hour before it overtook her.

She was at that lakeshore again with the forest around it and the snow-tipped mountains in the distance. There was a slight amount of cloud cover but it only added to the beauty.  “Are you ready?” a female voice from behind her asked. Maria turned around, more curious than anything. No one had spoken directly to her in her dreams before, “Ready for what?” she asked, taking in the woman’s appearance. Long, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and an average physique, and she was a few inches shorter than Maria, dressed in similar clothes. “Ready to take the next step in unlocking your potential,” the woman told her, in a fairly level tone. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of this and had more questions now, “What if I said I wasn’t?” Maria asked, carefully. “Then things will continue as they have been and you won’t remember this dream,” the woman explained plainly. Maria turned away from the woman and sat down on one of the large rocks near the lakeshore, thinking, “What if I said I was ready but wanted to go slowly?” she asked. The woman moved over, closer to her, “Then it would go slowly, at your own pace. The learning would take place at night, in your dreams instead of in your waking world. So it really is up to you,” the woman said calmly. “Why do I feel like somehow the weight of the world rests on my shoulders?” Maria practically mumbled. “I’m surprised you don’t have more questions,” the woman said. “I have a ton of questions. I just don’t know if I want the answers,” she replied, sighing. Maria felt like she sat on that rock and thought about everything for hours but the time of day never changed, “Can you give me a week, to really think about this?” she finally asked. “Yes. Just read the book again when you are ready and I’ll be here,” the woman told her.

She woke up sighing, lying on her back, “I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she whispered into the darkness of her room before she glanced at the clock, “Six thirty,” she chuckled without humor.

Maria climbed out of bed and got dressed. She wasn’t feeling in the mood to deal with anyone but she wanted coffee, so headed out to the war room, glancing in the library before making her way into the kitchen. Bobby and Jess were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Bobby told her, sipping his coffee.

“Morning guys,” she replied, sounding distant.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, a little concerned.

“I guess it could have been worse,” she chuckled without humor.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jess asked her.

“Not really. Not right now at least,” she replied, giving them both a soft smile before she sat down with them, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Journalling might help,” Jess suggested.

Maria thought about that while she sipped her coffee. When it came to certain cases it did help to sometimes write out the patterns to make it easier to figure out, “Thanks Jess. I might just give that a shot,” she finally told her, smiling a little.

Jess felt good that she was able to suggest something that might be able to help her. The three had idle chit-chat for another hour before Maria headed to her room, wondering if she had anything that might resemble a pad of paper she could use as a journal. She wasn’t ready to talk to her Uncle about it either, even if her father had said he knew. Bobby and Jess had gone back to research, mostly waiting for the boys to show up with Sam and Jess’s stuff.

She found a pad of paper in the desk drawer, thinking she must have put it there the night when she had unpacked her things. Once she grabbed it and a pen, she sat down on her bed, leaning against the headboard. Her knees were up and the pad was leaning against her legs, but every time she went to write something, it was like her mind went completely blank and it was annoying the hell out of her. 

Hours passed and she still hadn’t written anything. It was like all her thoughts kept jumbling around in her mind, or at least that was what she was telling herself. She hadn’t even heard the guys come in, nor the sounds of them moving things down the hall to the room Jess and Sam had picked. It wasn’t until Dean opened her door and stuck his head in that she found out.

“You gonna help or just sit in here and let us do all the work,” he asked her, in a teasing way, with that damned smirk again.

“What happened to knocking?” she told him through her annoyance as she glared at him.

“Uh, forgot,” he said quickly, just smiling.

“Sure ya did,” she mumbled before she got up to help, pushing him out of the way.

“Rude,” he told her, rubbing his chest a little where she had pushed against him with her hand, using most of her body weight.

“At least I didn’t hit you,” she told him without looking over her shoulder as she walked toward the garage.

Apparently, they’d gotten a small U-Haul for the things they had wanted to keep since the space in the Impala was limited. Sam and Jess had talked a lot about what they wanted to keep and what wasn’t important to either of them. Now, everything they owned lay inside that U-Haul. Maria hugged Sam when she saw him, which instantly annoyed Dean, as she had shoved him. Then she helped them unload everything, taking most of it to their room. The two of them even had a mostly private bathroom with as far back a room as they had picked. This way Jess would have somewhere to keep her makeup and all that girly stuff Maria wasn’t interested in, nor would she have to even look at it.

They all ate after the U-Haul was unpacked. As they were sitting around the table, Maria spoke up, “So, everyone is getting a tattoo as soon as John gets here,” she said nonchalantly, but seriously.

Dean almost choked on his beer, which made Maria chuckle a little, even if she didn’t look over at him, “Excuse me?” he asked in utter disbelief.

“It’s an anti-possession tattoo, and everyone, including Uncle Bobby and John, are getting one,” she said confidently.

“Don’t try to argue with her boy, she showed me what it does. She knows her shit and this will keep all of us safe,” Bobby pipped in, backing her up.

“I already decided where I’m getting mine,” Jess said, giving Sam a very flirtatious look.

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked her, raising an eyebrow and smirking, “Where’s that?”

Jess leaned over and whispered something in Sam’s ear, which made him blush, deeply. Maria chuckled as she looked back down at her plate and Dean smirked, but he was looking at Maria, again putting on that cool guy front. There was a little more laughter before Bobby headed out and back to the library. They were still trying to figure out how to kill Azazel after all. 

“Come on, I’ll show you the sigil,” Jess told Sam as she got up and took his hand, attempting to get him to follow her. She also gave Maria a knowing look, which only made her roll her eyes.

Sam got up, smiling from ear to ear as he let her lead him into the library. Maria sighed and started cleaning up. She still hadn’t figured out how to ask Dean if he was interested in her without being blunt about it. Dean leaned back in his chair and just watched her move around the kitchen for a while.

“So, are you interested in me or something?” she finally just asked him as she washed the dishes.

Dean’s face went from smiling to shock before back to that cool guy facade again, “You’re hot, why wouldn’t I be,” he said cockily, with a smirk.

She wasn’t sure why but his words didn’t make her feel better, and in fact, only saddened her, “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not interested,” she told him, almost coldly.

He was glad she wasn’t looking at him as his jaw clenched before he left the kitchen, both hurt and feeling rejected. He had been trying to compliment her, not realizing that was probably the worst way to tell her he liked her. Dean didn’t say anything to the three in the library, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and finding a room much further away than hers to go drink alone.

Maria leaned on the counter in the kitchen once he left, feeling hurt that all he seemed to want or be interested in was her looks. She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around quickly, only to find Jess standing there.

Jess saw the hurt in her eyes, “What happened?” she asked.

“Looks like you’ve got chores for the next week,” Maria said quietly, not even able to manage a smile.

“Wait? What happened?” she asked again, not fully understanding.

“I asked him and he’s interested all right, in my looks, not me. So, guess we were both right. I’ll split the chores with you or we can just call off the bet,” Maria told her, feeling a pull toward drinking again.

Jess felt bad for even having brought it up now. She had been sure she’d caught Dean daydreaming about her, at least that had been the look on his face. It didn’t seem to be that of a guy only interested in sex. She’d been around enough college guys to tell the difference. Jess grabbed a beer for her out of the fridge and popped the top before she handed it to her.

“We can call it off, the bet. I’m really sorry I was wrong,” Jess told her softly before heading back into the library, not giving her a chance to reply.

For a moment Maria just stared at the beer Jess had handed to her before she set it on the counter, knowing there was no real relief at the bottom of that bottle. She sighed before she went back to the dishes, deciding to deal with her emotions later, when she was alone. Maria wasn’t in a hurry as she took care of the dishes and then cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. No one came to bother her though. She even dumped the beer down the drain before she threw away the empty bottle. She headed straight to her room though, not wanting to be around anyone.

Since she’d gone through her detox and her grief at Sam and Jess’s at the beginning of the year, she felt things again. These were things that had started when she was fourteen and Dean had told her that she was acting like Sam, things she’d buried back with her grief. Now though, those emotions were coursing through her again and she wasn’t entirely sure what they were or how to fully deal with them.

“Somebody want to tell me what the hell just happened?” Bobby asked Sam and Jess, keeping his voice quiet, but needing information.

Jess sighed as she looked over at him, “I was so sure that Dean actually liked her that we made a bet. Well, I was wrong. He just likes her for her looks,” she replied, still feeling bad.

“What was said, exactly?” Sam asked, curious more than anything, as he had thought the same thing.

“She said that Dean said he was interested in her looks,” Jess answered, looking up at him.

Sam furrowed his brow, as that hadn’t helped at all, “Maybe I should go talk to him.”

Bobby was wondering what exactly had been said as well. He remembered the looks that not only he saw, but that John and William had seen when Dean was sixteen. He also knew that sometimes those kinds of crushes died over time so decided that he’d keep his eye on Dean, feeling protective of his niece.

Dean had been sitting in that room for at least a half hour at this point, drinking and thinking, two bad combinations for him when he felt the way he did. He still couldn’t figure out what he’d done or said wrong. In the past, he always had lots of luck with the ladies. He was smooth, charming, and could make women melt with that smirk of his. But Maria was a completely different sort of girl. He had known this but all women liked compliments, didn’t they? Something Dean wasn’t so good at was words outside of compliments on physical beauty. He had no idea how to tell Maria that he thought she was funny, confident, an amazing hunter, sweet, could cook like a chef, and had had his heart since he was sixteen when he’d seen her that Thanksgiving morning when she pulled the pies out of the oven.

“Dude, you awake?” he heard from the other side of the door.

How Sam had figured out which room he was in puzzled him, “Yeah, go away,” Dean told him.

“Dean…” Sam said, a concern in his tone.

“I said go away,” Dean repeated, a bit more sternly, not wanting to deal with his brother, again. He’d had enough of it on the drive to Cali and back and didn’t want to hear another word.

Sam stood out there for a moment, debating pushing the topic before he finally opened the door and went inside, “What happened?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“Well, I was right and you were wrong, let’s leave it at that,” Dean said, not looking up at his brother before he took another drink of the whiskey.

“What’d you say to her?” Sam asked, concerned, but still gentle.

“I told her that I was interested 'cause she was hot,” Dean found himself just blurting out.

Sam closed his eyes and turned his head toward the ceiling, letting out a small breath, it all made sense, “You really are clueless, aren’t you,” he chuckled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, almost glaring at his brother.

Sam was doing his best not to laugh at his brother when he looked back over at him, “She’s not some waitress at a bar or some chick you’re picking up for a one-night stand. When was the last time you ever saw her give two shits about her looks? She’s a hunter Dean.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and Sam shook his head before he left his brother to his thoughts and whiskey. When Sam sat down in the chair next to Jess, she and Bobby looked over at him, curious, “What happened?” she asked.

“Let’s just say, Dean’s an idiot.” Sam chuckled.

“Well, I could have told you that,” Bobby almost scoffed.

“He likes her, he just has no clue how to tell her. Those two are gonna have to figure it out on their own,” Sam explained, “They’re both stubborn.”

Bobby knew that firsthand, Maria was his niece after all, and Dean was like a son to him. Jess also understood how that worked. They couldn’t push the two of them toward each other or get either of them to listen to reason.

Maria sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard, her arms resting on her knees as she stared at the ceiling. Jerk, she thought to herself. Being alone in her room wasn’t helping so she got up and headed down to the gym, needing to hit something and get out the anger that had surfaced. She passed Sam in the hallway. He looked as though he was headed to either his room or Dean’s, whichever one that was for the night, but she didn’t ask. Bobby and Jess watched her walk by, through the war room, before she disappeared down the other hallway.

She found the punching bag first, not even taping up her hands, wanting to feel every blow, picturing Dean’s smug, smirking face. At first, there was no pain as she got used to the feel of the bag. Then, she put more force into it, as if she was aiming for the wall on the other side of the room. Before she knew it, she was breathing heavily, her muscles tense and burning, and her knuckles were bruised before she sank to the floor. That was when the tears came. There weren’t many but she let them fall, still refusing to admit that she even liked Dean, or wanted to. When the tears stopped, she stood up and decided she wouldn’t hate him, but she wasn’t about to like him either. She’d go back to him being her rival, like when they were younger. 

Her body was sore as she made her way back through the bunker to her room, gathering a change of clothes before heading to the shower. The hot water would feel good on her muscles and help wash away the rest of what she was feeling, relaxing her. She locked the bathroom door and just stood under the hot flow of water for a while, letting it all go. Afterward, she did feel better and was even smiling a bit as she made her way back to the library. She sat down in the seat she’d sat in earlier that day. Bobby raised an eyebrow, watching her.

“You good?” Sam asked her.

“Yup. I’m good,” she replied, lightheartedly as she opened the book she’d been reading.

The three were a little confused but dropped the subject. Dean still hadn’t come out of the room he was in, even after he finished his bottle of whiskey.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

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