#but the two sober ones told me i was entirely coherent

[feral-and-or-horny]

For my friends in academia, do you ever have a moment where you're explaining your area of interest to someone and have this moment of "Oh fuck, I sound super smart??? And I'm not faking it?????"

[xxgoldie]

lighter x reader, alcohol (lighter is drunk, nitro-fuel is alcoholic here), otherwise just pure fluff

thinking about lighter, stumbling up to you, the smell of nitro-fuel on his breath (and his shirt - he'd definitely spilled some on himself earlier, though with how unstable he was standing, you were hardly surprised). a bit of a party atmosphere had developed around steeltusk's bar tonight, and lighter had definitely had more than he should have. you had barely joined the gathering for a few minutes, relaxing a bit further from the bar, but as soon as he'd noticed you, he had made a (very wobbly) beeline for you.

"(Y/N)."

his hands went to your shoulder, using you to stabilise himself, even though his weight made you stumble a bit too.

"hi," you laughed, a rare sight to see the champion so discomposed, though he was looking into your eyes with a slightly nervewracking seriousness through those shades.

"we should get married."

it took you a couple beats to process his slurred words. heat rushed to your face, one you hoped, if someone noticed, you could blame on the one drink you'd had so far. you searched his face for the punchline, or any sort of elaboration. all you found was a similar searching - he was waiting for you to answer. he was almost pleading with his eyes, swaying a little from the alcohol - this was absurd.

"you are so drunk," was all you could muster, chuckling in disbelief. lighter collapsed against you, arms wrapping around your neck and head on your shoulder, and you swore you heard a very uncharacteristic whine leave his mouth.

"you don't want to marry me," he pouted - just how many drinks had burnice given him, that lighter lorenz, infamous red scarf of the sons of calydon, was pouting?

"hey, i didn't say that," you comforted him, instinctively petting his hair in a way he seemed to enjoy. and it wasn't a lie - it was something you had dreamed about several times, but... "i just feel like you've skipped a few steps here, you know? we're just friends, lighter. and you really are very drunk."

he picked himself up from your shoulder to look at you again, but he was so close this time, the tip of his nose barely an inch from yours, his full bodyweight still leaning on you. for the first time, you really realised the position the two of you were in, and so publicly, the crowded bar not far away. but you couldn't quite get yourself to focus on them, not when there was so little space between you, and his stupid handsome face took up your entire field of view. the musky scent of his cologne cut through the smell of nitro-fuel and it made your thoughts brain spin even more, so you waited for him to say something. you doubted you could come up with any more coherent thoughts.

"what's step one?" he said eventually. you frowned, not sure what he meant. "what?" "you said I skipped steps. what's step one?" "to marrying me??" "yeah."

once again, you had to pause to process. was this his weird, misguided, honestly really cute, way of confessing to you? there was no way - but there was a sincerity in his gaze that went past alcohol. the best answer would probably be 'ask me on a date when you're sober', but he was too pretty to be considering best answers, and your mouth moved faster than your brain did.

"probably this," you muttered, then pulled him forward by the scarf, closing the distance between you. even drunk, his reaction time was instantaneous - you were the one to initiate the kiss, but his hands were around your waist so quickly it surprised you, pulling you somehow even closer into him. it was clumsy but full of heat, and you could feel his mouth form a victorious grin against yours.

when you eventually pulled away, though, your gaze was immediately drawn away from his to the rest of the sons of calydon, who were whooping and cheering from the bar.

"yes! i told you it'd go well, lighter!" caesar called, shooting you a wink. Lighter only responded to her with a thumbs up, his head returning to rest on your shoulder again.

"did you tell him to do that?" you yelled back, head still reeling from the kiss.

"so what? neither of you were gonna take the leap sober," she replied, and you realised she wasn't behind his words - not intentionally, anyway.

"he proposed to me!"

a round of shocked laughter from the gang, except for lucy;

"he WHAT?"

i truly had no idea how to end this. but like. i love lighter so so much but i especially love him being dorky and down bad. wc: 757

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, violence, PTSD, smut (Contains our beloved Defenders and lots of plot twists)

Word Count: 5.5k

a/n: Slowly posting one of my another Matt Murdock x OFC stories over to tumblr to see if there is interest. This was my very first Matt Murdock story but its LONG. The first thirty-six chapters are already written and posted but I have 2 more unedited and already written still. Feel free to leave feedback so I know how interested y'all are in more of this one!

The coffee shop was busy with the morning rush; everyone agitated waiting for their morning caffeine fix before they headed to work. Karen and I waited near the counter for our orders in silence, almost shoulder to shoulder in the crowded space. My eyes felt like they were on fire and I raised a hand rubbing at them as if it would alleviate the exhaustion.

“You weren’t kidding about staying out all night,” I mumbled to Karen beside me.

She sent me a sheepish smile, her hands fidgeting with the belt on her skirt. “Yeah,” she breathed out awkwardly. “I uhm, really didn’t feel comfortable going back home alone last night.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before shooting me a tight smile. “Thanks for coming back to my apartment with me, too. I didn't really want to wear that dress for an entire second day.”

I shrugged nonchalantly in response. “No problem. Considering what you’ve just been through, I wouldn’t be inclined to be alone there either.” I turned my attention towards her, taking in her nervous gestures. “I’m glad you’re okay though.”

She nodded in response, inhaling deeply before forcing a smile onto her face. “Thanks for coming out last night, too. Sorry Foggy and I were probably incredibly annoying. I can’t imagine what that must have been like to deal with sober.”

I chuckled lightly, remembering Karen’s giggly state and Foggy’s very obvious flirting with her. “Honestly, it was amusing. I had fun. Though…I can’t say it wasn’t more enjoyable when you both finally sobered up.” The barista behind the counter called out our order, placing the paper cups on the marbled surface before Karen and I stepped forward to grab them. “It’s definitely more enjoyable to converse with people who can make coherent sentences.”

“Oh, God,” Karen grumbled, wiping a hand down her face in embarrassment. “We must have sounded ridiculous.”

We swerved our way through the crowd in the shop, pushing our way towards the exit. A few people grumbled or sent us glares as we tried to weave through the long line and outside.

“Just a bit,” I teased Karen as we finally stepped outside, shooting her a grin.

Karen took a sip of her cappuccino, eyes closing to revel in the caffeine for a moment. When she opened them, she glanced back at me, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thanks for the coffee, too.”

“Looked like you could use it,” I told her. “And considering you offered to work for Foggy and Matt for free , thought I’d help you out.”

She bit her lip, glancing both ways before crossing the street. I followed after her keeping an eye out for traffic. 

“I really should get them to pay me something,” she laughed out.

“Yes, you definitely should,” I agreed.

She stopped in front of a brick building and I almost ran into her. She waved her hand up and smiled.

“This is it,” she told me.

My brows furrowed at the building. “It’s…a hardware shop?”

Karen rolled her eyes before waving me along. “It’s inside. Come on, I’ll give you a brief tour.”

I followed after the woman, entering the building and heading down the hall past other offices. On the glass of the door at the end of the hall there was a taped piece of paper with the words ‘Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law’ written in black sharpie. I waited as Karen unlocked the door and then swung it open, stepping inside. Walking in behind her, I noticed there was a folding table with a small stack of papers on top in the main room, and just to the side against the wall were a few boxes which were filled with files. Karen dropped her purse onto the table and took another sip of her coffee before setting it beside her purse and turning to me.

“Would you like the grand tour?” she asked.

I smirked at her dramatic hand sweep around the small space. “Yes, please.”

Karen cleared her throat before waving her arms around us. “This is my office. It’s where I answer calls and sit and greet clients…if we had any.” She crossed the room and pushed a door to the right open and gestured inside. “This is Foggy’s office–he’s working on decorating, or so he says.” She stepped out and crossed the main room, pushing the door open to the other room. “And this is Matt’s office. He’s…not really into decorating.” She led me back out to the main office and pointed to a room tucked behind Matt's office. "And that’s the break room. There's a little coffee maker and some cups but that's about it." She clapped her hands together as she leant against the folding table, a smile on her face. “And that’s the tour.”

“When they said they just started their own practice together,” I told her, “they really did mean they just opened it, huh?”

The door to the office swung open behind me and I turned as Foggy stepped in, coffee in hand and dark circles under his eyes. He grinned when he spotted me, shutting the door behind him.

“Olivia! I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Foggy greeted.

“Karen and I grabbed coffee across the street,” I said, eyeing the way he rubbed at his eyes. “You doing okay there, Nelson?”

“Me?” Foggy asked, perking up at my question. “I’m great. Or I will be when I finish this,” he answered, lifting his cup of coffee. “Just next time,” he said, glancing behind me at Karen, “maybe we shouldn’t drink the eel.”

Karen let out a laugh and I shook my head.

“You keep saying that and I really don’t want to know,” I muttered, taking a sip of my latte.

The door opened again and Matt appeared, moving slow and closing the door gently behind him.

“Hey buddy!” Foggy called out as Matt leant his cane against the wall and stepped in. Foggy gasped the moment I noticed it too. “Dude, what happened to your eye?” “Are you okay?” Karen immediately asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Matt answered offhandedly as he neared his office door, adjusting his glasses further up his nose. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going last night. It was my fault. Not a big deal.”

“You need a dog,” Foggy pushed.

Matt chuckled a little. “I’m not going to get a dog, Foggy.”

“What’s wrong with a dog?” Foggy continued. “You don’t like dogs? Everybody loves dogs.”

“I love dogs,” Karen added.

Foggy turned towards me, eyebrows raised. “Olivia? Chime in here?” 

I saw Matt’s brows furrow at the name and Foggy quickly turned towards him.

“Your new neighbor, Olivia, is here, by the way,” Foggy explained before glancing back at me.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, glancing down at my coffee. “I mean I’m…partial to cats.”

“Oh come on!” Foggy said, crossing the room and playfully slapping my shoulder.

Matt’s lip twitched up at the corner, a small smile playing across them at my words. His head tilted in the direction my voice had come from and I felt the hair on my arms prickle at the gesture. Almost as if I could once again feel him focusing on me in the space.

“Good morning, Olivia,” Matt greeted me, voice all charm. “I didn’t realize you were here, I apologize.”

Before I could open my mouth to respond, Foggy was already speaking again.

“You missed a hell of a night last night,” he began. “Where were you?”

“I was uh…” Matt coughed glancing down. “Busy.”

Foggy shot him a knowing look, nodding. “Uh huh. Well while you were busy , Karen and I went out and got drunk. And we tried to get you to come out with us, but you never answered your door. Instead, we ended up roping Olivia here into staying up all night with us.”

Matt’s brows rose behind his dark glasses. “Did you, now?” 

His head tilted in my direction again and I felt my heart rate quicken. How the hell did he have that effect on me? 

“They made a good point,” I began. “I just moved here and I don’t really know anyone. Staying up all night with two strangers in a new city sounded like a horribly great idea.”

Matt’s smile slowly grew; I could see the way the lines near his eyes crinkled just past his glasses. 

If only he’d take the damn things off…

“Then I deeply regret my absence last night,” Matt said, his dark glasses pointing in my direction as his tongue briefly flitted out against his lips, drawing my eye. I could have sworn his lips twitched into a smirk. “I wish I could have helped welcome you to the city. Maybe you’d be interested in coming out with us to Josie’s?”

I bit my lip, hesitating, before finally answering. “I think that’d be fun–though I’d prefer it on a night that I’d actually gone to sleep the night before.”

Matt chuckled at my words, muttering out, “Of course.”

“Yeah dude,” Foggy said after swallowing a drink of his coffee. “I’m not twenty-one anymore. I need sleep after last night.”

A knock came at the door and everyone froze. 

“Someone’s at the door?” Foggy asked, curiously.

“It would appear so,” Matt answered before his head turned in the direction of Karen. “Karen? You want to get that?”

She stood there for a moment, eyes wide, before shaking her head and smiling. “Yeah, right, yes,” she said, rushing over and answering the knock.

A tall, well-dressed man in what looked to be an expensive suit was standing in the doorway, a cold, professional smile on his face. He stepped inside hesitantly, eyes quickly surveying the office before they landed on each of us in turn.

“Hello,” the man greeted. “Do you do walk-ins?”

I cleared my throat and nodded at Foggy, Karen, and Matt–knowing the latter couldn’t see the gesture–before heading towards the door.

“Right, I need to get to work,” I said awkwardly, making my exit.

“It was good running into you again,” Matt called after me.

I felt the blush rise to my cheeks as I practically darted around their potential new client and into the hall. As I made my way out of the building, I checked the time on my phone. If I rushed straight back to my apartment I would probably only login a few minutes late to work. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I worked a few minutes late to make up for it. And then I’d…probably order take out and crash early to make up for my lack of sleep the previous night. 

Turning left on the sidewalk, I began power-walking my way back to my apartment. It was only a few blocks away, but the streets and sidewalks were bustling with everyone else trying to get to work on time. I spent the next twenty minutes weaving in and out of people, almost running headlong into an oncoming taxi at a crosswalk, growling angry words at the driver who wasn’t paying attention, before finally making it to my building.

The lobby inside was empty; everyone had probably already left for work. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was one of the only people still inside during the weekdays. I preferred it that way though; it was quieter in my apartment and I didn’t have to constantly interact with co-workers. And if I zoned out here and there, no one was breathing down my shoulder watching.

Once inside my apartment, I quickly locked it behind me, kicking off my shoes by the front door and tossing my keys onto the console table as I usually did. Then I hurried through the living room and turned on my computer, quickly logging in to work the moment I could pull up the program. With a tired sigh, I set my coffee cup on the coaster on my desk and let out a long sigh.

“Today is going to be rough ,” I muttered to myself.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Work dragged by slowly, more than usual. I'd had to make two more lattes to make it to a little past four when my shift ended. By the time I clocked out of work, my eyes were struggling to remain open.

No more all nighters to make friends , I told myself as I shuffled to my bedroom. 

I dug around in my bedroom drawers for clean clothes and settled on some sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Making my way down the hall to the bathroom, my stomach growled angrily. 

"Ugh," I grumbled as I stepped into the bathroom. "I do not have the energy to cook tonight."

Turning on the shower, I tiredly leant against the wall just outside of the shower listening to the strong spray. I didn't realize I'd momentarily drifted off until my body lurched forward, my eyes startling open as my hands flew out to catch myself. I groaned as I stripped out of my clothes and got into the now steaming water.

The shower took twice as long as usual with how tired my brain and body was. I had accidentally washed my hair twice, having forgotten I'd done it the first time. When I finally got out and toweled off, I dressed in the comfortable clothing I'd brought in before grabbing my phone from the bathroom counter and heading toward the living room.

I collapsed on the gray sofa, throwing my legs up and leaning my head back against the arm rest. Rubbing a hand over my face, I quickly decided I'd just order takeout again. There had been a Mexican restaurant a block over that had good reviews and tacos did sound good. My stomach rumbled at the thought which was the final prompt I needed to grab my phone and spend a few minutes ordering some food for dinner, internally groaning when I was notified that delivery would take about twenty minutes. 

With a huff, I sat up and set my phone onto the coffee table and grabbed the television remote, turning on the TV before mindlessly flipping through channels. I got comfortable on the couch and settled in, leaving the TV on some local news segment where there were three news anchors discussing the vigilante in Hell's Kitchen.

"Some say he's a hero," the brunette woman told her male co-anchors. "They're saying he took down a human trafficking ring the other night. And just last night, he saved a young boy that was kidnapped."

One of the men huffed, rolling his eyes. "This man in the mask is nothing but a guy with an ego problem. He wants to be a hero, but he shouldn't be out there assaulting people at night. Doesn't matter if they're criminals–it's against the law. I mean, where do we draw the line?"

"You're completely right. I say," the other man began, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "leave it to the police. It's their job and this… vigilante is only getting in the way and making more work for our law enforcement."

I yawned, stifling it behind a hand. I'd heard brief rumblings about the man in the mask, the man some people were beginning to call the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. When I'd grabbed coffee or picked up groceries–even just waiting at crosswalks–I'd overheard people recounting sightings of him or discussing how he'd helped someone they knew. He sounded more like a hero to me than these news anchors wanted to admit.

When I focused back on the television again, I realized they'd switched topics back over to the Hope Shlottman case. 

"Don't even get me started on this ridiculousness," the man with glasses groaned. "It's absurd. It's just a young girl grasping at straws to avoid her rightful conviction. I mean hell," he continued, voice raising, "there's video footage of her committing the crime in the elevator!"

"I'll have to agree with you, Mark," the brunette woman said with a lofty laugh. "If there was a man running around with mind control powers, I think we'd have heard about him before now."

I sat up straighter on the couch, hand gripping the remote tighter at her words.

It's just a coincidence. It's not him.

"Exactly!" Mark exclaimed. "Some guy with the ability to mind control others, and he's using it to make a young woman kill her parents? No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not buying it. But I would buy an insanity plea."

"You know," the other news anchor piped in, "the man arrested for this morning's armed robbery is claiming he was also mind controlled to commit the crime."

The three anchors shared a laugh and my heart rate increased, my hand still gripping tight on the remote.

"I heard about that!" the woman said. "Said that man told him to do it, just like he did with Shlottman."

My breath caught in my throat as the news anchors laughed loudly on my television screen, entirely oblivious. I could feel the color drain from my skin at the discussion of mind control.

"Mine."

I yelped, sliding across to the other end of the couch at the feel of warm breath against my ear and an entirely too familiar voice.

"My little dove."

I jumped up off the couch, spinning in circles for where the voice had come from before realizing I was alone. It was in my head, just like he had once been. I shivered involuntarily, crossing my arms tight across my chest. 

A knock came from my apartment door and I let out a shriek, throwing the remote I'd had a death grip on across the room as my heart nearly flew out of my chest.

"Uh sorry, didn't mean to scare you in there," a woman's hesitant voice called from the other side of the door. "You're miss…Allen, right? Ordered some tacos from Nina's for delivery?"

I exhaled roughly, running a hand over my face. It was just the food I'd ordered. I was overtired and on edge. I needed food and sleep and then I'd be good again. 

He's not here. He isn't looking for me.

Hesitantly I made my way to the door, pulling back the cover on the peephole just to make sure it was the food. A woman in her early twenties stood there, a bag of food in one hand clearly labeled Nina's Tacos, her phone in her other hand as she scrolled absently. I let the cover drop before I unlocked the deadbolt and the door lock. 

The woman glanced up at me, pocketing her phone in her jeans as she sent me an awkward smile.

"Didn't mean to startle you," the woman said as she held out the bag.

"Just jumpy from lack of sleep," I mumbled in response, grabbing the bag quickly from her.

"Have a good night," she said with a smile.

"You too," I grumbled quickly before swinging the door shut and locking it.

I briefly heard the woman mutter under her breath, probably about my rudeness, before heading back to the couch and placing the bag of food onto the coffee table. Then I turned, searching the room for where I'd tossed the remote. I spotted it on the kitchen floor, making my way over and snatching it up before slamming my finger repeatedly on the button to change the channel. No more news for tonight. 

As I sat down, I eventually landed on some cheesy, Hallmark Christmas romance movie. Thanksgiving was less than two weeks away and internally I noted it was still too early for these awful movies to be playing, but I left it on and got comfortable before digging into my tacos. At least a movie about some small town girl moving to the city and falling for the handsome, single dad but overly-busy and recently-widowed Hallmark handsome man wasn't going to remind me of… him .

It wasn't long after I'd finished my dinner and gotten comfortable on the couch that my eyes started drifting shut. Eventually I forced myself to turn off the TV and headed to bed.

Even though I spent a few minutes first double checking the locks on my front door and that the apartment was truly empty of anyone else.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Blood sprayed across the hall with such force the red liquid coated the glass of my square room. Bright red dripped down the opposite side of the glass from where my hands were pressed against it. Doctor Barlowe dropped heavily to her knees before she fell face first onto the once pristine floor. A surgical scalpel dropped from her limp and bloodied hand at her side. My eyes focused on the scalpel for a long moment before they slowly drifted up to the figure standing beside a terrified but rigid Doctor Whitlock. The strange man was smiling gently at me through the glass, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment before stepping forward towards the intercom to my room.

“Don’t be afraid of me, little dove,” the well-dressed man told me as he held the intercom button down, his accented voice filling my cell. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to free you.” 

He lifted his finger from the button and turned his attention to Whitlock; the man was standing still and I couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t running away, especially with Barlowe’s body sprawled lifeless just feet in front of him. As I eyed him for a moment longer, I noticed he was holding a syringe filled with the vibrant orange serum in one hand. The man in the dark suit said something, his voice too quiet for me to hear within my cell. I watched curiously as Whitlock shook his head, his lips moving rapidly as the hand holding the serum began to raise, hesitating just at his own neck.

My eyes darted towards the man in the suit, watching as he stalked casually over towards Whitlock, a smug smile on his lips as he easily side-stepped the dead woman on the floor. He reached the man and patted him lightly on the cheek before Whitlock took a few steps forward towards my cell. The man slid in behind Whitlock, leaning just a bit forward to whisper into his ear. With no warning, Whitlock jammed the syringe into his neck and pushed the plunger roughly down, his scream muffled by the thick glass walls of my room. My mouth parted in shock as my eyes darted back up to the man in the suit. He was smiling gently from his place behind the doctor who was currently screaming and clawing at his throat, completely uninterested in the man’s pain.

Doctor Whitlock’s muffled screams suddenly went silent and my brows furrowed when I noticed his face had gone red, and then a deep shade of violet. The man in the suit walked around him as he headed back towards my cell, his attention only briefly turned to the struggling man. By the time the man in the suit had reached the intercom again, Whitlock’s eyes had rolled back into his head, the white’s of his eyes all that were visible, but they were quickly turning pure red.

And then, with a muffled pop , Doctor Whitlock’s head exploded in a splatter of blood and gore. My eyebrows shot high up onto my forehead before I turned a terrifying glance back at the man in the suit. His lip was curled in disgust as he eyed the blood and brain matter that had landed on his dark suit coat. When he glanced up and met my eyes again though, the gentle expression returned. He reached out and pressed the intercom button again, his eyes on me through the glass.

“They deserved this, don’t feel any remorse,” his smooth voice droned through the speaker. “And you, little dove, don’t belong in a cage.”

My eyes shot open and I was breathing hard. Quickly I sat upright, wrapping my arms around my body and sliding all the way up towards the headboard, pressing my back against it. A new voice whispered into my ear, not Doctor Whitlock’s, but one that had been plaguing me for years.

“Come back, little dove.”

My eyes clamped shut. “No,” I ground out forcefully, shaking my head.

“You belong with me.”

“Shut up, shut up!” I shouted, throwing my hands over my ears and shaking my head.

His laugh filled my bedroom, reverberating around the room and somehow past the hands covering my ears. I flinched at the sound.

“You’re mine, little dove.”

I felt a hand graze the bare skin along the back of my neck and I screamed, flailing in my attempts to get up out of bed and tear myself free of the bedsheets. In my haste, I knocked the lamp off of the nightstand and it fell to the floor with a loud crash. Eventually I scrambled out of bed and raced to the sliding bedroom door, pressing my back against the wall as I turned the light on. The overhead light on the ceiling turned on and flooded the room in light, dispersing the shadows.

The room was empty; he wasn’t here. It was just my messy bed, the dark gray sheets half on the floor now, and my bedside lamp a broken mess on the floor. I was alone.

At least, I was, until a loud few knocks pounded on the front door of my apartment. My eyes darted toward the bedroom door to my left and I froze. My heart was racing in my chest, one hand reaching out to grip the doorframe tight.

“Olivia?” a voice called out, slightly muffled behind the front door and all the way across the apartment. “It’s Matt, down the hall. I heard screaming and a crash. Are you okay?”

My head tipped forward against my shoulder, my eyes drifting closed at his concerned voice.

It’s not him. He’s not here. 

I took a few shuddering breaths in, trying to calm down. 

“Olivia?” Matt’s worried tone called again.

I pushed off the wall of my bedroom and headed into the short hallway before entering into the living room, turning on every light as I went. When I reached the front door, I pulled the peephole cover back and checked just to make sure. It was, indeed, Matt from next door. I let the cover drop, pausing a moment to rest my forehead against the cold door and trying to compose myself before I unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Matt was standing just outside of the doorway, his hand dropping to his side from where it had just been pressed against the door a moment ago. His hair was askew and he was dressed in a gray tee shirt and black sweatpants. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, or been about to go to sleep, before he’d wound up on my doorstep. He didn’t have his red glasses on either, allowing me to take in his entire face finally. His soft hazel eyes were creased with concern as they darted all around in my general direction, not focusing particularly on one area. The corners of his lips were pulled downward in a slight frown.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked again as he continued his sightless scan of me.

I swallowed hard before answering, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured him, my voice cracking. I cleared it roughly before adding on, “I just have…nightmares. Sometimes.”

“That was the screaming?” Matt asked, his eyes raising and landing finally somewhere along my cheek.

“Yes, I uh, just had a nightmare,” I admitted awkwardly, my hand brushing some loose strands of hair behind my ear. “I…broke my lamp when I was waking up. I was uh…just a little disoriented. I’m fine, just sort of really embarrassed that you heard all of that.”

The lines of worry eased visibly on Matt’s face as he tilted his head and paused like that for a moment, his gaze dropped somewhere towards my chest. I bit my lip nervously as my eyes scanned his face in the silence. I spotted a cut on his left temple that hadn’t been there this morning and my eyes narrowed for a moment. 

“You’re bleeding,” I said before I realized I’d voiced the observation.

Matt’s lips twisted into a puzzled frown. “I am?”

My hand rose, about to gently touch the left side of his face and brush back the hair on his temple and point out the cut, but I froze. The gesture seemed too intimate, I noted, not something I should be naturally trying to do with a neighbor I'd only briefly interacted with three times now. My hand dropped back to my side awkwardly, glad he couldn't see the gesture.

Instead I cleared my throat and told him, "Yeah, it's on your left side, near your temple. It's…it doesn't look real bad but it probably should be cleaned up and bandaged." 

I bit my lip as I watched him gently raise a hand and touch near the cut. He winced a little at the contact.

"I fell on the pavement earlier," Matt told me sheepishly. "Didn't realize there was a crack in the sidewalk." He shrugged in an offhand way. "I'm pretty clumsy, I get injured often. Kinda comes with being blind." He let out an awkward laugh. "I can take care of it in a bit, I just want to make sure you're okay."

I chewed my lip nervously, feeling my stomach twist at his blatant concern. I remembered how last night Karen had told me he had said he'd heard me screaming from nightmares since I moved in and how he'd wanted to check on me before. Embarrassment mixed with something else, something I couldn't place, both feelings churning in my stomach. 

Suddenly Matt raised a hand, nervously scratching the back of his neck. He glanced towards the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have bothered you," he apologized awkwardly. "You don't know me that well and it's late and I'm making you uncomfortable. I'll just–"

"No!" I shot out quickly, cutting off his rambling apology. 

He paused, eyes darting back up towards my chin as his brows raised slightly at my interruption. I swallowed hard, my hand nervously re-tucking hair behind my hair.

"No, you're not–I mean it's not," I spluttered nervously. I stopped, pausing to form a coherent thought in my head as he stood there watching me patiently. "You're not…making me uncomfortable," I finally managed. "I…appreciate the gesture. Checking on me, I mean." I laughed softly before I said, "It's very kind of you, checking on your weird neighbor who wakes up screaming from nightmares almost every night."

Matt shifted forward on his feet now, leaning in towards me with a gentle smile on his handsome face. 

Why does he have to be so attractive?

"I don't think you're weird, Olivia," he said softly. "We all have our demons."

I huffed out a laugh at his words. You have no idea , I thought. 

My eyes darted back up to the cut on his head and I chewed my lip in indecision. I inhaled sharply and spoke before I could stop myself and consider whether I was making a mistake or not. 

"If you want to come in I can clean up that cut," I offered quickly. "I might have a bandage in my first aid kit for it." I hesitated, clearing my throat awkwardly before adding, "If you want, I mean." 

A warm smile spread across his lips and I made the mistake of turning my attention on them. I felt a pang of something in my gut again before his voice caught my attention. 

"I would like that," he said. "Thank you." He held up his hand, one brow quirking up on his forehead as he tentatively asked, “Would you mind guiding me in? I left my cane back in my apartment.”

Slowly I reached out, gently taking him by the wrist and guiding his hand to my forearm. His fingers gripped gently around the bare skin, his thumb just once lightly sweeping across the delicate skin underneath my wrist. His mouth very faintly twitched, his tongue darting quickly between his lips, before I watched him swallow hard. Then his head tilted to the side a bit, a small smile on his face as I suddenly realized I’d just been standing there with his hand on my forearm, staring at him instead of guiding him into my apartment.

I quickly turned my head, wincing at how stupid I must have appeared, before quickly clearing my throat and leading him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Right, so, I’m guessing the setup is pretty similar to your apartment,” I said awkwardly as I led him down the entry hall. “I’ll just…lead you to the couch in the living room and grab the first aid kit.”

Inwardly I groaned as I led Matt to the couch.

Please tell me I’m not about to make a big idiot of myself letting my very attractive neighbor into my apartment at three in the morning.

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

[winterscaptain]

a horrible first.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this takes place during rite of passage, where the unsub is the cop committing murder of undocumented immigrants crossing the border. we pick up right at the end, at the quasi-standoff in the desert. let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy it!! 

words: 1.3k warnings: language, canon-typical violence and death, reader shoots and kills the unsub, mild dissociative symptoms following trauma, nothing too horribly graphic

summary:  “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” ― g.k. chesterton. au!march 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You brace yourself for a screaming stop in the SUV, immediately following Aaron to cover as Boyd flies out of the decrepit structure on an ATV, firing an automatic weapon of some kind. 

You take a shot.

Time seems to slow as you watch Boyd go down, tzhe innocuous red dot in the middle of his forehead beginning to weep even before he hits the ground. 

Derek fires his rifle from inside the car, but the deed is done. Boyd’s dead. 

Aaron raises his head. If you had your wits about you, you’d see him counting off, making sure all of you are there. “You all right?” 

“Yeah!” Morgan shouts as he leaves the car, but you’re stuck in place. 

“No!” Emily immediately answers, turning on Derek. “Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum.”

Aaron’s been there - the ringing is damn near unbearable. 

“What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us!” 

“I told you I had him.” She’s holding both hands over her ears, but you’re sure that’s not the only reason Derek’s raising his voice. 

“He was shooting at us, Emily.” 

“Well, you could have given me a heads-up!” 

“The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on.”

Aaron lets them bicker, but notices something odd. 

You haven’t moved. You’re staring at Boyd’s body, your service weapon still in your shaking hand, your breath shallow. 

He approaches you slowly from the side, extending a hand toward your gun. He says your name quietly, but you can’t hear him. He repeats himself and you startle as he gets a little closer. 

He’s not as brave as you were when you pulled him off Foyet. He’s almost afraid to touch you, afraid you’ll hurt yourself or draw away from him. 

The look on your face also scares him - it’s simultaneously blank and absolutely horrified. For a moment, he thinks back and realizes, with a little bit of shock, that he knows what it is.

You’ve never shot to kill before. 

“Hey hey hey,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He places a hand over the barrel of your gun. “Give that to me, okay?” 

Another voice echoes in front of you. It’s Derek, who’s reached Boyd’s body. “Great shot, kid! Right between the eyes on a moving target. They teach you that at the academy?”

You let Aaron take your weapon from your hand, blinking a couple of times. He flips the safety and tucks it into his pants at his lower back, keeping his hands free.

Derek catches on, turning around and sobering. 

Aaron can feel the rest of the unit creep up behind him, but he waves them off. They take a few steps back, watching with bated breath. 

They all remember the first time they shot an unsub, their first kills in the field. A horrible, wretched first. 

“Can you take a step back toward me?” Aaron asks.

You take a step back and trip, stumbling over your feet. 

Aaron’s there to catch you under your arms, pulling you close. All at once, the levee breaks and you let out a sob, turning into him for refuge. 

He closes his eyes and wraps around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You did the right thing. It’s okay.” He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh. “That was a really good shot.”  

You clutch his vest, your arms locked around his waist. He keeps whispering to you as the crime scene techs arrive and start their work, shielding you with his body. 

+++

You sleep on the plane home. Aaron sits across from you, working on the after-action report on your behalf. He looks up every couple of minutes as if he’s afraid you’ve disappeared in the time between his last check-in and that moment. 

Derek, Spencer, and Emily watch him watch you. 

“That sucks,” Emily says. “My first hit me hard, too, I think, but like… days later.” 

Derek nods. “Yeah. It’s a shitty first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m glad Hotch is over there. Probably the best person for this kind of thing.”

“Best person for the kid, too,” Dave says. Derek and Spencer frown. 

Dave continues, clarifying, “Every one of us has someone we prefer when the day gets hard, whether we know it or not. Anchors, if you will. Good to have.” He looks over at the two of you again and doesn’t elaborate further. 

You stir, and when you open your eyes, there’s a fresh glass of cold water next to you on the little side table. You take it gratefully, taking a couple of sips.

Aaron watches you orient yourself, check the time, and start your search for your report. 

“I’ve got it here,” he says, offering it to you. “You have a bit more to do, and I have to keep your gun until all the paperwork goes through - protocol for use of lethal force with a firearm. It’s a simple review, no need to worry.” 

You nod, taking it and thumbing through the extra pages in the back. You’ll probably ask Derek about the best way to fill them out. 

Could ask Aaron, too. 

Hotch. 

Ask Hotch. 

“How should I fill these out? 

He takes a second, interrupting his own reply to stand and promptly plop himself in the seat beside you. “First things first - tell the truth. You did the right thing and nobody in their right mind will dispute that.” 

“Thanks.” 

The shadow of a smile passes across his face. “You’re lucky - this is cut and dry. Not all of us get a dirty cop on an ATV wielding an MP-5 for our first review.” 

“Lucky?” You sound skeptical, at best. 

His mouth quirks. “I know. Poor choice of words. You’ll probably have some rough nights. Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist? The unit technically has one on retainer but -” 

“You never use them because you’d rather hold all your emotions right there -” You poke his chest “- until you die?” 

 The little smile appears again. “You been listening to Haley again?” 

“What, from beyond the grave? You bet. So, watch your ass, Hotchner.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He sobers, his eyebrows pinching in an adorable look of concern. “But really, if you want…” 

“That might be nice, actually. To talk to someone.” 

“And you know you can always come to me, right?” 

You nod. “Of course.” 

The dull hum of the plane fills the silence between you for a little while. 

“I was really scared, Hotch.” 

He resumes his listening posture, leaning on his elbow with his fingers laced together. 

“It all happened so slow - and so fast? - at the same time. I don’t know. He just… He went down and I was so afraid that he’d shot Derek or Emily I mean -” You take a breath. “I heard the gunfire behind me and the glass breaking and I just didn't want to turn around and find them dead you know?”

“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. “I know.” 

“I was so stuck that I didn’t even realize Derek was talking to me - he was right in front of me and I couldn’t see him. And then I started thinking about Boyd and all that hate and…”

You trail off, unable to continue with any degree of coherency, so you ask a question instead. 

“Is it always this hard? Does it get easier?” 

Aaron wavers for a minute. “Yes and no. It’s never ideal - you know you’ve made a mistake when you have to use lethal force, but you get more confident about making the right call in those situations as you see more of them. You’ve been with us for two years - I’m - No.” 

He stops and his brow crumples. 

“I was going to say I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m not. I’m impressed. And proud. It took a dirty cop on an ATV -” 

“Wielding an MP-5?” You finish for him. 

“Yeah. It took that much for you to pull your trigger with any lethal intent, and even then you didn’t want to. The entire way you were talking about a de-escalation strategy - don’t think I didn’t hear you.” 

A flicker of warmth blossoms in your chest and maybe, just maybe, you feel a little better.

+++ 

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[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[015] — the half of it!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: keep in the mind that y/n doesn’t have a faceclaim so that instagram photo is not a visual representation

also this wasn’t proofread and lowkey i’m not sure if this entire chapter even makes sense. read with caution lmao

the night went by in a flash with the second hour passing just as quickly as the first one. you were grateful that there wasn’t a single ounce of awkwardness drenching the lighthearted atmosphere of the restaurant when bokuto arrived fashionably late—rather that’s what he told you and the rest of the ddd team when he slid into the booth right across from you.

however, if bokuto was truly being honest, he actually made it right on time, yet something in him had held him back longer. he probably took a good fifteen minutes sitting in his car as if he was waiting for a sign to fucking walk in already. bokuto would have been lying to himself if he didn’t believe (even for a second) that he was absolutely terrified to see your face. no matter how much he wanted to see you again, the mere thought of your past relationship with iwaizumi had his knuckles turning alabaster as he gripped his steering wheel.

the athlete scoffed at his state that was so unbelievably wrapped around this idea that happened such a long time ago. admittedly, why in the hell would thee bokuto koutarou of the msby black jackals be hung up over a girl from high school anyway? he wanted to laugh at himself because akaashi was right.

it simply didn’t matter anymore.

or at least that’s what bokuto kept affirming in his head over and over and over again as he marched himself into that restaurant. there was confidence in the way he approached the nearly filled booth, yet the moment you shifted your eyes towards him, it all melted into oblivion.

goddammit, why did akaashi force him to sit across from you? it’s almost like he knew exactly how to torment both you and bokuto just by asking sugawara to scoot closer to the other side of the bench.

surprisingly, bokuto can handle his alcohol and knows how to moderate his drinking habits, yet tonight was his only exception. with you constantly throwing him knowing glances that reminded him of your shared relationship, it was his only driving force that kept him throwing his head back with shot after shot of soju.

by the time the entire group was all set and done, everyone was considerably drunk. it was kaori, yuko, and bokuto who were so severely wasted that it honestly forced you and the rest of the group to hold back in order to get everyone home safe and sound.

semi, who was sitting next to you, stands up first as the bill is handed back. “kaori and i will head out first. you guys get home safe, okay?”

you nod, waving ddd’s musician goodbye as he helps a tipsy kaori from stumbling over herself.

“i guess i should get going too,” sugawara adds in a beat later, motioning to yuko with her eyes closed and rested against the wall right behind her. “i know damn well she’s going to make me carry her ass up to her apartment.”

“bye, stay safe.” akaashi mutters as the four exit the restaurant, leaving you, him, and a drunken bokuto.

you held back an amused chuckle as akaashi gave you a look satiated in aversion. you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit guilty knowing that he’s going to be the one struggling trying to take bokuto back home safe despite knowing damn well it was going to happen sooner or later as the night of drinking continued.

akaashi let out a sigh, “well... guess i should take this one home too, shouldn’t i. you can go home first since you live close.” he offers, but you quickly decline.

“no, it’s fine.” you shook your head as you stood from your seat, “since i live so close, we could try and get him sobered up a bit so it’s easier for you to take him home.”

“are you sure?” asked akaashi as you gathered your things.

nodding, you make your way around the table to help bokuto stand. “yeah, i kind of feel bad. i don’t know if you noticed, but something was up with him today.”

perhaps akaashi was glad you didn’t notice the way his expression suddenly changed. he didn’t want to pry too much into your personal life or your past, but he knew damn well that the secrets need to be told. you two have been good friends since high school, yet it wasn’t until you and akaashi started working together with love cemetery did you two become so close. it’s never his business to be so caught up in whatever web you somehow got caught in literally years after everything happened, yet here you guys were.

he couldn’t stand and watch his best friend potentially hurt because of your in ability of communicate. granted, akaashi knew how personal those feelings were to you with no way to express it.

that’s the entire reason why you started love cemetery anyway—your both your relationships with iwaizumi and bokuto ended so abruptly, if you thought about it hard enough, there was no distinct closure despite ending on good terms with both of them. this, this sense of blurred lines of your webtoon and your past relationships were honestly just a coping mechanism for you.

how badly did akaashi just wanted to sit you down and talk your head on straight, but once again:

it wasn’t his business.

“alright, then.” akaashi sighs, helping you lead bokuto into his car. “let’s go.”

there was a special sense of silence in the air that tensed the moment akaashi started the car, engine humming in the background of the radio on low volume. the bright downtown tokyo lights simmered down as they reached the suburban areas of the city, filling you with a sense of serene peace as fatigue was slowly catching up to you as well.

a weight fell on your shoulder then as the car pulled into a stop. bokuto’s white hair brushed against your cheek as you looked down on him, pushing the man up and towards akaashi who had opened the door opposite from you.

the volleyball player muttered something incohesive beneath his breath as his weighted eyes attempted to open. bokuto had no idea where he was, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. he wanted to just crash into bed and sleep until the afternoon.

akaashi let out a grunt as he slung his best friend’s arm over his shoulders, following just behind you as the three of you walk up to your apartment. you threw a glance over your shoulder, watching your poor friend struggling to get the beefy athlete up the last flight of stairs.

an amused laugh left your lips, “are you sure you don’t need any help?” you offered as granted, you did offer to help get bokuto up to your apartment only for akaashi to say no. at this point, his struggle was on him.

“just hurry and unlock the door,” akaashi grumbles.

“right...” you mutter, reaching into your bag for your house keys only to feel a buzzing in your pocket.

“shit.” you say under your breath, forcing your seeping thoughts and increasing heart rate back as you opened the door.

your exes seeing each other at work was a different story. considering that neither of them knew of you past relationship with the ladder, it surely wouldn’t be a problem, but this was literally one of the last things you wanted to happen tonight. like seriously, doesn’t finding a drunk athlete that happens to be from the volleyball team you work for bad enough? surely having bokuto be in your apartment wouldn’t help your case either.

you stepped back into your living room, swallowing the bundle of nerves down your throat as bokuto seemed to regain enough conscious to form coherent words.

“kaashi~” he whined, voice muffled by the pillow he wrapped his muscular arms around. “i’m hungry.”

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“okay, and?” bokuto pressed on, causing akaashi to roll his eyes.

“fine,” he deadpans before asking, “what do you want?”

the volleyball player smirked slightly, “ramen.”

akaashi stands up then, giving you an unenthused look as you approached him. you feigned a look of shock from appearing on your expression as you brushed past, frustration coating your very figure. this was not good.

a sigh left your lips as your brain scavenged desperately for a plan. at some point, the truth had to be revealed sooner or later whether you liked it or not. you just didn’t like how they both had to find out this way. 

you set the water upon the table in front of your sofa, setting the medicine gently upon bokuto’s palm. 

bokuto always thought you had the softest hands. he would often find excuses just to hold your hand back when you two used to date. it would always make him feel safe and warm, yet nowadays he still yearned to feel that sense of familiarity again—even if it meant it was the last time he would ever get to.

“thank you,” he says.

“yeah, no problem.” the words left your mouth softer than you had anticipated when bokuto made eye contact with you—familiar and warm as if you were home.

you didn’t know what to think then as you placed yourself next to him, yet still leaving space for comfort. bokuto looked so cute and vulnerable in such a state, how in the hell were you supposed to kick this guy out of your apartment?

the thought spiraled in your head. surely there had an excuse conjured somewhere up in your head. you cleared your throat, “never thought you’d be a lightweight.”

your words left your mouth in a hurry. it seemed a bit unnatural but at this point with bokuto wasted, you barely tipsy yet panicked that iwaizumi is on his way, and akaashi not knowing a single thing besides deliriously making ramen for his best friend—nothing about tonight was natural.

bokuto let out a playfully offended scoff, “i’m not! the alcohol was just strong tonight...”

“whatever you say, kou.” you mused with a smile that left bokuto’s heart racing.

your lips looked nice at the moment. with the dim florescent lights casting shadows upon your face, he wondered whether or not it was a good idea being this dangerously close to you. hell, now that you two were alone and akaashi was preoccupied this would be the perfect place to ask you the questions that had be plaguing his mind all day. that would have been the correct option, yet something within him wanted different with the way bokuto’s gaze flicked down to your lips.

you couldn’t help but notice the way he would look at you, deep brown eyes that would send red heat to your cheeks until it reached your ears. you weren’t exactly sure if he was going to do anything, but it wasn’t like you entirely opposed anyway.

bokuto cleared his throat suddenly as he pulled you both out of your trances. 

“can i ask you a question?”

your eyebrows furrow slightly with a tilt of your head, “hm?”

curiously filled you as hesitance drenched bokuto’s thoughts, drying out his mouth as he gulped his drunken nerves. “i know this is from a long time ago,” he starts, not even having enough courage to look at you. “but how come you never told me about your past relationships when we first started dating?”

bokuto’s words sobered him up—he needed to be i order to even comprehend an answer from you whether or not it would suffice. to no surprise did it catch you off guard either. as your eyes has widened into saucers, heart thumping against your ribcage, palm perspiring, all while you searched for a plausible answer in your head. you weren’t entirely sure if you should panic at the chance that bokuto did in fact find out about you and iwaizumi, or if he was just entirely curious.

it certainly didn’t matter if she lied, either, they were bound to find out now that both of them were in your life regularly and they’ve both read love cemetery, they are bound to find out sooner or later. bokuto and iwaizumi had all the clues placed out in front of them, it was just a matter of time when they would piece them all together and connect the dots.

you let out a shaky sigh. the best way to answer this was to be as calm as possible knowing bokuto was drunk and you weren’t entirely sure how he would react. “i just didn’t think think it was an important detail,” you mutter. it was neither a lie or the entire truth.

“i feel like it would’ve made sense to mention it at least.” says bokuto, “i mean... what happened to telling each other everything back then?”

god, you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now, especially when akaashi could easily walk back in. “i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, but it’s not like it’s relevant now, is it? it’s been years.”

“it’s still very much relevant, you know.”

“how so?”

but before bokuto could part his lips to answer, the doorbell rings, sending a sharp echo throughout the apartment. your body immediately stood up, flinching and completely grimacing at the idea that both your pieces are only a few meters apart.

you couldn’t here anything then as you made your way to the door. your the beat of your beat was so loud that you swear bokuto could hear it quicken as you turned the door knob.

capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you cracked the door open slightly with only your head peaking out through small opening.

“hey, (y/n),” the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, yet it still ended up comforting you more than expected. you just hoped bokuto couldn’t hear who it was.

“hi, iwaizumi.” you say almost in a harsh whisper.

you cursed yourself internally—of course out of all people, this would happen to you. you couldn’t help but grumble at the fact that surely this was some sort of karma life was giving you a universal punishment. whatever it was, you prayed it would end soon. maybe it should just put you out of your misery...

iwaizumi gave you a charming smile, the moonlight absolutely doing wonders as it casted shadows upon his chiseled face. seriously, can this guy get even more handsome?

you licked your lips absentmindedly at the thought of this as iwaizumi held up your belongings. “i brought your things! sorry for coming by so late, i just wanted to see you tonight.”

crimson red heat decorated your cheeks at his words. your thoughts were going hundreds of miles an hour just by your hands slightly brushing against each other as he handed you your jacket.

“thanks,” was all you could say.

it was calm and light as relief was almost near knowing you two were about to say your goodbyes. yet as fate always liked to give you the short end of the stick, footsteps clambered from behind you.

“(y/n), who’s there?” bokuto’s voice calls out to you rather loudly, causing your eyes to practically jump out of it’s sockets the moment the athlete pulled the door wide open. at the sudden jerky movement, bokuto revealed himself to a surprised athletic trainer.

his eyes blinked together multiple times as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you see, iwaizumi has always been a rational person when it came to misunderstanding and he would never ever jump to conclusions but at this rate, what else could he really assume seeing his ex-girlfriend and his coworker together late at night?

there was a boiling limbic inkling within iwaizumi that he wasn’t know what it was composed up. it was like a mix of annoyance and unsolicited anger that he couldn’t help but feel his muscles tense and his hands tighten into fists.

the silence that ensued you three was so violently loud that you didn’t know what to do. never in a million years would you have ever imagined that this is how it would all end.

this is how everything would come crumbling down.

fun facts! —

while bokuto was in the parking lot hesitating to go in, satomi was hyping him up the entire time

meanwhile satomi and iwaizumi were actually still at work during all this

satomi thought it was a good chance of alone time with him, but the entire night iwaizumi was hurrying to get his work done so he could see (y/n)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[apathetic-revenant]

Vimes had never mastered ambition. It was something that happened to other people.

*

The Night Watch got up when the rest of the world was going to bed, and went to bed when dawn drifted over the landscape. You spent your whole time in the damp, dark streets, in a world of shadows. The Night Watch attracted the kind of people who for one reason or another were inclined to that kind of life.

*

Part of him was marveling at the sheer beauty of the sight, but an insistent, weaselly little group of brain cells from the wrong side of the synapses was scrawling its graffiti on the walls of wonderment.

*

The Bearhugger’s had worn off. He hated being sober. It meant he started to think.

*

The Watch was generally of the opinion that Samuel Vimes was at least two drinks under par, and needed a stiff double even to be sober.

*

 “Have you had anything to eat today, sir?” said Angua.

“I had a bit of breakfast,” muttered Vimes.

*

“Er...I know this isn’t the right time,” said Vimes [currently engaged in a murder investigation]. “But, when the kids play hopscotch in the street, what’s the rhyme they sing? ‘Salt, mustard, vinegar, pepper’ isn’t it?”

*

He lit the candles by his desk and opened his notebook. Probably he should use the demonic organizer, but he liked to see things written down fair and square. He could think better when he wrote things down.

*

He felt more alive than he had for days. The recent excitement still tingled in his veins, kicking his brain into life. It was the sparkle you got with exhaustion, he knew. You were so bone-weary that a shot of adrenaline hit you like a falling troll. They must have it all now. All the bits. The edges, the corners, the whole picture. All there, just waiting to be pieced together...

*

Sam Vimes smacked his forehead. “Perks! Of course! That was the word I was looking for. Perks!”

*

He leaned sideways to Captain Carrot. “Who’re all these people?”

“Watchmen, sir. You appointed them.”

“Did I? I haven’t even met some of them!”

“You signed the paperwork, sir. And you sign the wage bill every month. Eventually.”

There was a hint of criticism in his voice. Vimes’s approach to paperwork was not to touch it until someone was shouting, and then at least there would be someone to help him sort through the stacks.

*

“And I thought...I thought, good grief, this is what I’m supposed to carry? And I thought about it, and then I thought, no, that’s right, just once someone got it right. It’s not even a weapon, it’s just a thing. It ain’t for using, it’s just for having. That’s what it’s all about. Same thing with uniforms. You see, a soldier’s uniform, it’s to turn him into part of a crowd of other parts all in the same uniform, but a copper’s uniform is there to--”

Vimes stopped. Perplexed expressions in front of him told him that he was building a house of cards with too few cards on the bottom.

*

Vimes’s desk was becoming famous. Once there were piles, but they had slipped as piles do, forming this dense compacted layer that was now turning into something like peat. It was said there were plates and unfinished meals somewhere down there. No one wanted to check. Some people said they’d heard movement.

*

Vimes was conscious of his own thoughts moving very fast, and they seemed to reach their own decision. We’ll explain later, they said. You’re too tired for explanations.

*

Perhaps it was because he was tired, or just because he was trying to shut out the world, but Vimes found himself slowing down into the traditional watchman’s walk and the traditional idling thought process.

It was an almost Pavlovian response. The legs swung, the feet moved, the mind began to work in a certain way. It wasn’t a dream state, exactly. It was just that the ears, nose and eyeballs wired themselves straight into the ancient “suspicious bastard” node of his brain, leaving his higher brain center free to free-wheel.

...Fur and tights...what kind of wear was that for a watchman? Bashed-in armor, greasy leather breeches and a tatty shirt with bloodstains on it, someone else’s for preference...that was the stuff...nice feel of the cobbles through his boots, it was really comforting...

*

“Sam?”

Vimes looked up from his reading.

“Your soup will be cold,” said Lady Sybil from the far end of the table. “You’ve been holding that spoonful in the air for the last five minutes by the clock.”

“Sorry, dear.”

*

“He writes in the manual,” said the demon nastily. “Did you know that, everybody? He writes in the manual.”

“Well, of course I make notes--”

“He’s actually sneakily trying to keep his dairy in the manual so his wife won’t find out he’s never bothered to learn how to use me,” said the demon.

“What about the Vimes manual, then?” snapped Vimes. “I notice you’ve never bothered to learn how to use me!”

*

Vimes, whose knowledge of geography was microscopically detailed within five miles of Ankh-Morpork, and merely microscopic beyond that, nodded uncertainly.

*

Lady Sybil was aware of this. Sam could coherently carry on an entire conversation while thinking about something completely different.

good evening everyone I’m not definitely saying His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes Duke of Ankh has ADHD but like, I’m not not saying that either

[pietrotheavenger]

learn to love

chapter 8 - i do

summary: y/n and steve don’t get along. now, they have to.

pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings: hangover, alcohol

a/n: enjoy!

series masterlist

y/n awoke to soft snoring. her head was resting on steve’s bare chest, his arm protectively curled around her. she could hear his steady heartbeat. her head was throbbing and she groaned, snuggling further into him as a defense to the cool breeze coming in from the ajar window. she lifted her head when she realized that she was in her underwear. she glanced sleepily at her surroundings, pulled the covers up, and fell back asleep.

she woke up some time later with the need to use the bathroom. she looked up and admired steve’s peaceful countenance. his lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were rosy. she sat up and stretched, her back cracking. unbeknownst to her, he began stirring when she moved away from him. he missed her warmth. she pushed the covers off but before she could leave bed, he grabbed her waist, his grip surprisingly firm, and pulled her onto him.

“where are you going?” his voice was raspy and his words slurred together. his eyes were barely open.

“i have to pee.”

“last night-” he began but she interrupted him.

“let’s not talk about it,” she planted her hands on his chest and leaned forward, the ends of her hair tickling him, “let’s just let it happen. we’ll see where we go from here.”

his hooded eyes were drawn to her mouth as a lazy smile spread across his pink lips. “can i kiss you?” he hummed.

“your breath stinks,” she whispered.

“your breath is worse,” he whispered back.

“whatever, rogers,” she playfully slapped his chest before reluctantly leaving him. she slipped into the bathroom, did her business, and just before she began brushing her teeth, there was a knock on the door.

“who is it?”

“me,” she heard steve’s muffled voice from behind the door. she opened the door and looked at him expectantly with her hands on her hips.

“hi,” he had a childish smile on his face.

“hello, steven,” she replied. “may i help you?”

“can i brush my teeth?” he tilted his head to the side, resembling a puppy. she physically could not say no to him. her heart swooned. she stepped back and let him in. they began brushing their teeth, making eye contact in the mirror. he wrapped his arm around her shoulders while standing from behind and held her close to his body. he pulled his brush out of his mouth and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. she squealed and pushed his face away.

they got dressed and headed downstairs to have breakfast. “good morning, dear,” sarah greeted steve as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. she stood at the island, cutting strawberries.

“mornin’, ma,” he mumbled back and retreated back to y/n’s side.

“how did you two sleep?” she glanced between them as she transferred the fruit from the cutting board to a serving bowl.

“good, thank you,” y/n offered a smile which was returned. she spotted a stack of plates on the counter and decided to set the table. she picked them up, but steve was quick to intervene.

“i can do it, doll,” he told her, gently taking them from her.

“i can do it, too,” she responded, reaching for them.

“you snooze, you lose,” he grinned, stepping back so the plates were just out of her grasp. she unsuccessfully suppressed a smile and shook her head.

breakfast went on without a hiccup. everyone returned upstairs to get ready. he got dressed in his room and she took her garment bag and makeup into sophia’s room, where they chatted as they prepared themselves for the wedding. he racked his brain but he couldn’t remember what she was to wear that morning.

she entered his room casually as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. she went straight to her suitcase, tucking her makeup bag into a corner and draping the garment bag over the back of the desk chair. when he saw her behind him, he turned so quick that he got dizzy for a moment. she wore a tight emerald green dress. it stopped a few inches below her knee, but the plunging neckline and the slit up the leg kept it from being entirely modest. when she turned his back to him, he saw that the back was simply a criss-cross of straps. he cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. she looked like sin and he didn’t mind rotting in hell for an eternity.

“y/n, you look amazing,” he exhaled. he held his hand out to her and she accepted, smiling radiantly at him. he slowly spun her around, taking her all in, and then tugged her close to his body. his hand went to her waist, eyes dropping to her lips. she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“who would’ve thought? the two of us together,” a teasing smile played on her features.

“who would’ve thought?” he echoed.

they stood in silence for a moment that seemed like a lifetime. “are you gonna kiss me or what, rogers?” she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. that was all the encouragement he needed to crash his lips onto hers. her body arched into his as she giggled into the kiss. she felt sixteen all over again.

“do you think we’re moving too fast?” he asked, after pulling away. he had a smile playing on his lips as he admired her.

“i mean, you are my boyfriend,” she joked, straightening his collar. she avoided his gaze.

“truly,” he added. “are we moving too fast?”

“maybe,” she sighed. he tucked his hand under her chin and tipped her head up so that she would meet his eyes. “but i don’t care,” she told him. her words were genuine.

“it’s okay,” he whispered. the words of comfort were more for him than for her.

the wedding ceremony went beautifully. it was on the intimate side, with less than 50 guests. he had rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb moving back and forth over her skin. he was a subtle distraction. he inched his hand up until she laced her fingers with his. “steve,” her voice was calm but a warning lurked beneath.

he smirked to himself, content with the fact that he had gotten under her skin. “i’ll behave now.”

once they arrived back home, she slipped out of her dress and into a silk robe. she took all of her things into sophia’s room, where they got ready, again. sawyer laid on his sister’s bed and toyed around on his phone. when she returned to steve, his breath was knocked out of her chest. the reception gown fit her like a glove, perfectly tight in all the right places and stretching over the curves of her body. she wasn’t paying attention to him, and instead to the jewelry that she had organized on his desk. she hummed softly to herself as she picked up the gold necklace. steve trailed behind her like a lost puppy. his lips were parted in shock.

“could you help me with the clasp?” she asked after struggling for a moment.

he wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence, so he wordlessly moved her hair out of his way and took the chain from her. his fingers brushed against her skin and goosebumps rose in its wake. he fastened the clasp, before gently running his fingertips down the nape of her neck. her back was pressed against his front. his lips ghosted over her neck as he moved his other hand to trail up her arm. she involuntarily shuddered, breathing out his name. she turned, her hands going to his face and pulled him down and into a kiss.

he stammered for a moment before finding the right words, “you are everything.”

they took a previously arranged limo to the venue for the reception. it was held in some ornate and expensive mansion. y/n was well aware that just a glass of champagne was most likely equivalent to her rent. the overwhelming wealth made her feel insecure. this life was one steve was used to and yet she felt isolated and out of place. she wondered if she would be able to fit in his life. despite this, she smiled and tried her best to not let her true feelings show through her facade.

everyone was lightly socializing, waiting for the newlywed couple to arrive. y/n pulled herself out of a conversation concerning investment banks to go to the restroom. she glanced around for steve, but did not spot him. she asked a waiter for directions and exhaled upon entering the bathroom, relieved to have just a moment of peace. she rolled her shoulders as she opened up her clutch to browse the meager contents and retouch her lipstick. after she had killed enough time, she opened the door, and immediately bumped into sophia.

“oh, hey y/n!” she smiled brightly.

“hi,” she mirrored her expression and stepped back, allowing the blonde girl to enter, “how’s your night going?”

sophia wrung her hands as she spoke, “a good start. i hope it continues like this. how about you?”

“i think i’m a little too sober. i’ve never attended such a nice event,” she admitted.

“it can be a bit overwhelming, even for me,” sophia empathetically replied. “i try to tell myself that it’s just one night.”

“just one night,” she repeated.

“on the bright side, you have steve! the picture he posted was so cute.”

“picture?” her voice went up an octave and she raised an eyebrow.

“yeah, on instagram.”

“yeah, on instagram,” she echoed. she cleared her throat and spoke again, “well, i should go back, now. steve’s probably looking for me.” with that, she breezed out of the restroom.

she found a secluded corner, tore her phone out of her purse, and opened up instagram. the first image to show up on her screen was a selfie of her, pietro, and steve. they were all beaming in the first picture, and in the second picture, steve was gazing at her with an adoration that made her breath catch in her throat. there was no caption on the post. with shaking hands, she locked her phone and placed it back into her purse. her prior feelings of alienation increased tenfold and she slowly returned to the party where everyone was settling into their seats to welcome wanda and vision.

steve had been scanning the crowd, looking for y/n. when he saw her, his face lit up and he raised a hand to beckon her. she briefly met his gaze before dropping it. his smile dropped into a frown and he lowered his hand. when she took her seat next to his, he leaned in close, his voice loud enough for only her to hear, “alright, darlin’?”

she nodded her head without looking at him. his frown deepened. before he could prod her more, the happy couple made their entrance and a round of speeches again. he couldn’t help but frequently glance at her, wondering what had caused the cold shift in her demeanor. “look at me,” he said to her, between speeches. she complied. he couldn’t read her. he reached his hand up and gently stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “what’s wrong?” her resolve melted as her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch.

she wanted to pretend like everything was okay, but it wasn’t. she was terrified that she wasn’t enough for him. she managed a weak smile and answered, “nothing.”

they both knew she was lying.

infinity tags:

@ssweet-empowerment ; @stardustandbucky ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @2dreamcatcher8 ; @illegalportkey ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @xxashy999xx ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @renanyx ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @marvelrose ; @sophiealiice ; @dreamsfollowed99 ; @galacticstxrdust ; @fitzsimmons-is-forever ; @dumblani ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @pinknerdpanda ;

learn to love tags:

@youunravelme ; @cailin-lefantasy ; @thatoneslytherinbeater ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @clockworkherondale ; @clean-and-claire ; @tits-out-for-cevans ; @evverything-plus-anything ; @denzmallows ; @ibxxmc-blog ; @thefandomzoneisdangerous ; @itsallyscorner ; @brujademente ; @dusuncelidusuncesiz ; @complete-trash-101 ; @radical-gecko ; @liebestraume-e : @cruelsummer-s ; @jgun2001 ;

[straycat-writes]

Yandere!Dazai dancing with his beloved in a burning building?

dancing with our hands tied (dazai osamu)

warning(s): toxic/unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dissociation there's actually a fuckton of other shit that I'm not sure how to tag-

His hands brushed against the curve of your hips, running over the silky fabric of the dress that delicately hugs your waist. It was an off-the-shoulder, floor-length dress, made of deep red silk. ‘Sober yet passionate’, he had said the first time he had put you in it and made you twirl for him.

A soft, mournful violin melody weaved its way through the air around you, the soft feel of it almost seeming like a gentle caress on your cheek. Like the ghost of a pair of hands guiding your every move, telling you what to do, how to move. When to breathe.

“You look breathtaking, belladonna,” he said, looking adoringly at your lightly flushed face and blank, glossed over eyes lined with mascara. Then he smiled almost too sweetly as his grip on your waist tightened. “You wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face by crying now, would you?”

You shook your head slowly, desperately trying to will the lone tear in your eye to not fall. Your hands were on his shoulders, gripping on to his coat as tightly as your feeble, trembling fingers would allow. He controlled your movements easily, making both your bodies sway to the rhythm.

Strange. You could have sworn the music adjusted itself to keep up with his wicked smiles.

Silvery beams of moonlight spilled into the room like liquid, from the one part of the arched roof that had partially caved in. The building must undoubtedly have been an architectural marvel in its time, with its marble floors, high arching ceilings and large, crystal paned windows. That must have been years ago, though, because now it was just an abandoned, dilapidated monument, standing alone in the middle of nowhere.

And it would still have been beautiful, in its own melancholic kind of way, if the entire structure hadn’t been on fire.

The air was getting hotter by the minute, and flames lapped and danced on almost every visible surface in the room. The curtains, which must have been fine velvet at some point, were now falling apart as they burned, and the sickening smell of burning wood and metal pervaded the air, making your eyes water.

How did I get here?

Your mind felt hazy, as if someone had taken ahold of your head and shoved it underwater. Every speck of vision, every noise, every voice felt far away, as if coming from the other side of thick glass. Dazai said something to you, so close to your ear, so awfully close to you that it made you feel suffocated and unhinged all at once. But you couldn’t understand a word, partly because at some point, you had stopped being able to distinguish where his voice ended and the plaintive screams of the violin started. Even so, the ever-present smile on his face sent chills running down your spine, despite the heat.

At the very back of your mind, there was the faintest hint of panic, a vague inkling that something was so very wrong and this shouldn’t be happening and I need to get out! But each time that line of thought gained even the slightest bit of coherence, Dazai would pull you closer, softly grip the back of your neck, put his lips right next to your ear and whisper.

‘Hush, baby. It’s okay, I’m here.’

And just like that, all agency you had scraped together would melt away. Because if he was saying it’s okay, then it must be. There was no reason to panic. Dazai would never lie to you. Right?

Your feet ached, your lungs burned and every breath felt like corrosive acid going down your windpipe. How long had you been dancing? You wanted to tell him Please stop. Let’s go home and we can go back to filling up the emptiness inside each other. You can touch me and I can kiss you and everything will be alright –

“It won’t be too long now,” he murmured, before looking down into your dazed eyes with a sad, far-away smile. “Before our time runs out.” A beam fell loudly behind you and you flinched, jumping closer to him. He steadied with a hand on your waist. “But that’s alright… isn’t it? This is how it was always supposed to be. Tell me it’s alright, belladonna.”

The words were laced with a certain kind of desperation, a vulnerability he rarely ever showed but which always lurked under his fragile façade, threatening to come out. It made you want to hold him in your embrace and never let go. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“It’s… it’s alright, Dazai.” This isn’t how it was supposed to be, but that’s alright.

Years ago, he had once asked you what you would do if he went to hell, and without missing a beat, you had told him that you would follow him there too.

You let out a shuddering breath. If it was time to finally follow through on that promise, then so be it.

You smiled, and it was sad, desperate and terrified all at the same time. Dazai’s eyes widened, and immediately his lips were on yours, salty tears mixing with your lipstick. At this point, you weren’t even sure if they were your tears or his. Fingers tangled in your hair, he kissed you like he was drowning and you were his air. His salvation. Perhaps you were.

Over the crackling of the fire, the dying throes of the violin, and the shrill screeching in your ears that just wouldn’t stop, it took you a while to notice sirens blaring in the distance. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Another wooden beam fell somewhere and the flames leapt up higher.

Oh, well. It’s too late for that now.

* * *

It took several hours to put out the fire. No matter how hard they tried, the flames just kept getting bigger, as if being fueled by something other than simply wood, until even the surrounding trees were aflame.

Now, however, all that was left was the charred husk what had once been a building.

And all the people milling about the remains, all the firefighters and police officers and bystanders. None of them would ever know how they were witness to the most romantic self-destruction in history. How, wrapped around each other and sharing their very last dance, two souls had just evaporated inside.

The perfect double-suicide.

[generalfoolish]

Sherrstoy

Sherrstoy: Lust for life

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: language, confrontations, confessions, jealous!Din, soft!Din, S1 and S2 spoilers (kind of)

Word count: ~1.7K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians and a Sheriff walk into a bar...

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. I have officially lost count, because I am off, I think? Oh, also, in this house Cara Dune is not affiliated with g*na. She's not a POS, and very much an ally. Anyway: Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Yaim | Atin

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

You watched with a grimace as Cara tipped back another glass. You had lost count of how many drinks the ex-Shock Trooper had downed, and you were in awe that she still seemed coherent. After a brief moment of hesitation at the start of the evening, you had slid your helmet off and decided to match her drink for drink.

When you were afraid you’d lost your eyesight, you cut yourself off, and could only watch with trepidation as she kept going. You sipped your water, wondering if Din ever let his guard down like this, but almost snorted in response to your own thoughts. Of course, he didn’t. He was the most guarded person you’d ever met.

“That’s when the AT-ST stepped in the hole, and we came up out of that vaping krill water. It smelled about as good as you’d expect. Ole buckethead there would’ve done anything for Omera though.” Cara finished with a laugh, and drained her cup. She motioned for the waitress to come back around, and hadn’t noticed your mood change.

Who was Omera? The insidious voice you’d all but managed to quell squeaked from your depths.

If you hadn’t sobered up a bit, you wouldn’t have noticed Din stiffen beside you.

“Well, I think you fared pretty well from our Sorgan dealings.” Din told Cara in a gruff voice. She laughed.

“Before or after you tried to get us all killed by Moff Gideon? Twice?” She was pointing at him, but had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. For all her blustering, you could tell she was fond of Din. She even seemed fond of his adoptive son, asking all about the trip to Dagobah.

“Not my first choice, Dune.” He retorted quietly. You simply tried to follow their conversation. You didn’t know half the people, or places, they discussed. You didn’t know much about Din, you were beginning to realize.

Cara waved him off, and accepted her next cup.

“You wouldn’t believe the mess we had to clean up here,” She began, turning her attention back to you. “This town was trashed. We’re still  cleaning up now! That’s not even the worst of it. Thought we’d all die on that Star Destroyer, gunned down by those Dark Troopers, or worse, the laser sword. Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” Cara told you conspiratorially.

“I can’t imagine Luke in action.” You muttered, wondering what his jetii’kad looked like in action. You felt Din tense again, and wondered why.

“He was a whirl of green. He sliced through those bots like bantha butter.”

“It seems Jedi are quite skilled.” Din interjected, and you noted the bitter tone.

“That’s right, you mentioned having met another. What were they like?” You asked, trying to discern his mood. He only grunted in response. Cara waggled her eyebrows and asked for two more drinks, before you could reject it. She slid you the cup, and you tipped it back. The rushing liquid leaving a harsh burning in your throat, and a new warmth in your belly.

“I think it’s time to pack up.” Din told Cara, and she sighed deeply.

“You never come out anymore, Mando.”

“I’ve never come out before.” He deadpanned.

“We’ll always have Sorgan.” She told him wistfully.

“You drank enough for the whole village, then.” He told her, harshly. She only laughed.

“May the Force be with you.” She said with a hint of laughter, and Din left quickly. You followed, tossing a small wave over your shoulder.

~~~

“That was irresponsible.” Din muttered through a clenched jaw. You shrugged, dropping your helmet.. The rest of the armor followed. He pulled his helmet off, and you could see his twitching eye.

“Oh calm down. No one was going to try anything. Dune has whipped this town into shape.” You told him, sitting down heavily on a crate. The cargo hold seemed to be spinning.

“Regardless.” His lips remained tight, and his jaw was trembling from the tension. So, he was pissed pissed. You waved him off, knowing it would likely make him madder. A low growl was his only response.

“I don’t see what the problem is, Din.” You said with a heavy sigh. The room was spinning less, but you knew you’d be in for it in the morning. The dull ache of a headache was already starting to form. When he hadn’t answered, you looked up to him. He was seething. “What? What was so bad?” You asked again, almost incredulous.

“What was that about?” He asked, and you didn’t miss his hands clenching and unclenching from fists by his side.

“What was what about?” You asked again. Your exasperation was sobering you quickly.

“Luke.” The name fell snarled from his lips, like it was ripped from him. You knit your eyebrows together.

“Luke Skywalker?” You echoed, throat dry from the drinking. Din didn’t explain any further. “You’re going to have to say something. I have no idea what Luke has to do with this...” You gestured to him, and you could feel the anger rolling off of him.

You felt the air change before you noticed why. The air felt less hazardous, and more anxious. You raked your eyes over his face in search of answers. You weren’t met with blind rage, as you were before. This time it was panic. This time you recognized the bitter feeling.

“Are you jealous, Din?” He seemed to sag under the weight of the confession, pain settling into his dark eyes. The red light of the hold flushed over you, and you wished you could see him without the harsh lights. You stood from the crate and walked to him. He tensed under your scrutiny, and again, when you laid a hand on his arm.

“How could you possibly be jealous? Half that conversation was about your ex.” You scolded, playfully, trying to lift the mood. It didn’t. Something else bubbled into the tension.

“What?” His voice was soft, but his tone was harsh.

“Omera? Your ex, I thought.” You answered with a shrug, not trying to seem too bothered. You’d had partners before. Clumsy and inexperienced,  but lovers all the same. He exhaled sharply.

“She wasn’t anything.” He told you, but you could feel something else under the words. A half-truth, a placation he’d told himself, maybe.

“Liar.” You whispered back to him, and he inhaled deeply.

“She could have been everything, but she wasn’t anything.” The words should have been a comfort, but Din was looking through you, as if you weren’t there. You jerked your hand away from his arm. You couldn’t hide the hurt on your face.

“Well, I promise nothing like that is going on with Luke.” You managed, hoping the venom in your tone was enough to sting him. It was. He winced, and reached for you. In one last petty act, you moved out of his reach, and you watched his face fall as his arm returned to his side.

“You misunderstand. For so long, I was just jumping from job to job. Trying to make credits for the foundlings. Trying to make a suit of armor. I was...someone else. I found the kid, and there are some hard truths about myself that I learned the hard way. Sorgan was the first time I allowed myself to sit still. I did it for selfish reasons, but I saw another life there. A better life, for the kid. I made the choice for myself, before we had to leave, like Cara mentioned. Omera wanted me to stay. She asked me to put this part of myself away. It was this life that I had never imagined for myself. It was so domestic, mesh’la. It was tempting. But, I turned her down. My sherrstoy was too large for the small village. Getting fat on krill and spotchka in a backwater skughole, that’s not me. Even before the kid. Especially after the kid. I’m glad I’m not being hunted, but I don’t want to…” He paused, searching for the right words.

“Miss the galaxy?” You added, feeling your chest tighten as he nodded. You had been grappling with those same feelings for some time. You wondered constantly if you should have just stayed on Jelucan. You felt every word of his speech reverberating through your body. Every hesitation of his lit you on fire. Domesticity had been bled from him, as it had from you. As much as you wanted to give up, settle down somewhere, and feel a soft breeze across your face, you knew that there was a part of you that would never be content to do so. It was the manda driving you forward, putting one boot in front of the other, pushing you further than you thought you would go.

You mulled with his word choice, a sherrstoy, a lust for life. It was perfect. It was an answer, but it was also a question.

“I don’t want to miss it either, Din.” You told him gently. “I don’t think about anyone the way I think about you. You’re something else entirely. I wouldn’t let you leave, but I wouldn’t make you stay.” You rested your hand on his cheek, and he pushed into your hand.

You wanted to remember him like this. Pupils blown out, staring at you like you were made of stars and if he reached out to touch you, you’d disappear. His scruff tickled your fingers, and his messy hair framed his awe-stricken face. You didn’t need a map to read his heart, it was written there on his face. He’d chase you, if you ever left.

It was hard to give yourself like this. It was hard to slow your racing heart. Neither of you knew what you were doing, that much was clear. It was messing with your head, the way you had interlaced so easily with him. It hadn’t been long, a few weeks, but you’d fallen hard for the man before you.

You reached up, up on tip-toe, to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He snaked his arms around your waist and hungrily deepened the kiss.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Five [PT. 1]

Part Eighty-Five [PT. 2]

Words: 5.5k

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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NIKKI

My lawyer looks completely unimpressed with my lack of shoes, shirt, and dignity as he leans back in his chair behind his desk, rubbing his temples. 

"It doesn't work like that, Nikki, I'm afraid." He informs me finally, sitting up and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. 

"I was declared dead for two minutes. I died. My wife's technically a widow." 

"You can't annul a four year marriage on the basis of 'I died for two minutes.' Some cases of actual death, it can take an act of congress for widow or widower to have an annulment for a marriage where their spouse is no longer alive, legitimately." He explains and I roll my eyes. 

"So, what, I just get some divorce papers or something?" 

"Unless I declare mental incapacity given that you went through a traumatic series of events within the last twenty-four hours and this could possibly be a very serious lapse in judgement." He argues and I stare at him.

"Stop pulling my dick." 

"I'm not 'pulling your dick.' I just don't want you to make this decision and then regret it when your head clears." 

I managed to wear him down and by the next morning, he left the papers by Tommy's door after Vince mentioned to me that Viv stayed over there with Tommy and Heather.

When I get home, Karen opens the door and looks at me, wide eyed and confused. 

"H-Hey?" She says as I push past her and go to the phone, opting to change my answering machine. 

"Hey, it's Nikki." I say. "I'm not here because I'm dead." 

Karen just looks at me, astounded, and I go to my room, slamming the door. 

I was good and tired and glutton for punishment because I got home that night and loaded up the biggest shot of smack I could muster and pulled the trigger.

I wake up with a sharp pain in the crook of my arm, a needle still in my skin as blood trails my forearm to collect in my palm...Jesus fucking Christ, I've officially lost it. 

I take the needle out and force myself up to trudge to the living room to check my messages. 

Things like, "You're an asshole," and "that's not funny," tend to be the common theme. 

I guess I need to change my answering machine. 

I comb through to see if I have anything from Viv. 

Now would be a good time to hear her bitch me out for almost making her kill herself--because, lets face it, she's gonna blame it on me, anyway. 

Nothing's found, though. 

"Fuck, Vivian." I sigh out, sitting on the carpet in the living room, rubbing my forehead as a new message comes on…

"You fucker, you would be the one to fucking OD and die and then get up right after and file for divorce as if she doesn't have enough shit going on, already." 

I furrow my brows at the voice. 

"Axl the Twat?" I say aloud, confused, as he finishes with, "fuck you, you fucking fuck." 

He hangs up and I raise my brows. 

Did I die and wake up in a parallel universe? Axl defending Vivian? 

Is this hell? 

It cuts to the last message. 

"Hey, umm...I don't know if you'll get this or not or if…" Vanity. "...I don't know what's going on but I heard something terrible on the radio and I suppose it was true--well, kind of, um…" she sighs. "We're not together anymore and I get that I just hope you're o--"

"Fuck that." I grumble, hitting delete. 

I fall back and I look up at myself. 

It's fucked that I bought this fucking house for Viv, and she's not even staying in it anymore. 

I feel like I promised her so much and haven't given a damn thing to her except reasons to want to throw herself off of balconies.

I look down at my arm, dried blood still on my skin. 

I'm fucking tired of this shit. 

I let my complete exhaustion of being sick fuel me to dig through everything I own and throw out all of my rigs, any other drugs in my path, and even pour everything to get drunk off of down the sink--even the fucking cooking-wine. 

Vivian's somewhere catching the holy spirit, probably, just sensing I'm finally fucking done. 

Or she's somewhere in tears over me finally taking the final step to end our relationship. 

I feel like it's dead in every way aside from legal. 

Whisky's laying by the door, whining when I step over him to go throw the big garbage bag out. 

I'd get down there and whine for her, too, but I know this is what needs to be done. 

Our entire relationship has just been one giant clusterfuck, and I don't want to put her through the bullshit of having to try to forgive me and trust me, again. 

I think I've already stolen enough of her peace of mind. 

She'll be happier with Duff, anyway. He's a good guy. A hell of a lot more suited for her than I am. 

My hand rubs the back of my neck and I realize I'm still wearing the small crucifix of her's. 

I'm tempted not to give it back. 

I just sigh and throw the trash out and get back in the house, getting in the shower. 

When I get out, I ruffle a towel through my hair, seeing the light blinking on my answering machine. 

I go over and try to keep myself from getting too excited at the thought of it being Viv before I hit play on my messages. 

"Nikki, it's Doc. I know you feel like horseshit right about now but I need you to come down to the office at 5:00p.m., we're getting you guys together because we need to talk. See you then--preferebly kinda sober and coherent." 

Turns out I'll have my ass chewed by Doc before Viv, after all. 

I know he came down to the hospital and tore Slash and the guys new ones while I was unconscious. 

I'm digging in my garbage for a couple pills to dull down my future shakes that I just know are gonna be coming before sundown. 

Despite being not in shape to fucking drive anywhere, I still go because I know if I don't go, Doc will come here and I don't need him here. 

It's morbid walking into the office to see Vince, Tommy, and Mick sitting and waiting for me while Doc sits behind his desk. 

"Fuck me." I complain out loud, dreading what Doc's about to go on about. 

"Sit." Doc tells me and I plop down beside Tommy, sighing, and Doc waits a minute before saying, "I canceled the European tour."

"What?" Vince asks and Mick furrows his brows. 

"What the fuck, Doc--"

"--Shut the fuck up and listen." He cuts me off while Tommy nervously shakes his leg. "If you bastards go to Europe, one of you will come back in a body bag. And I'm not gonna be the fucking manager that runs Mötley Crüe into the ground." He states harshly. 

"That's a fucking first." I laugh out, meanly, and Doc glares at me. "Guess dead rockstars don't make as much money as alive ones, huh? I coulda told ya that after Razzle--"

"--Nikki." Mick states. 

"Where's my wife?" I snap next. 

"Oh, the one you so stupidly filed for divorce from without giving me a heads up first? Probably with her friends that haven't put her through the ringer and fucked her over time and time again." He states. 

"I didn't know I needed permission to make decisions in my personal life--that have nothing to do with Mötley Crüe." 

"Are you two just gonna argue or are we gonna actually talk about why we're here because I have things to do." Vince grumbles. 

"Tommy came to me and told me he's thinking about rehab." Doc tells us and I glance at Tommy, who's avoiding looking at anybody. "I'm not taking Mötley Crüe on tour again, in a studio, whatever, until you guys get your act together." 

We all look at each other, exhaling, and I rub my lips together. 

"Fine." Vince sighs, and Doc looks at Tommy.

He nods. 

"Nikki?" Doc asks and I just stare at him. 

The guys are gone in a few minutes, leaving just me and Doc and I stand up. 

"I wanna see Viv." I tell Doc as he digs through some files, and he looks up and blinks from behind his desk, 

"She said she's not seeing you until you get help." Doc states. 

"She says that but I bet I could find her tonight and still get her under me in less than three minutes." 

"Assuming she's not still under Duff." Doc says and I tense up. "You think I didn't notice how questionably close they got on tour?" He adds. 

"She's going through a crisis." I reply. 

"Can't imagine why." He mumbles. 

"Just tell me where she's at, Doc." I snap. 

"You look like shit. You need to go home and get some fuckin' rest because you're all checking in tomorrow afternoon." He adds. 

"I'm not going anywhere until I see my wife."

"You mean the wife you filed for divorce from?" He questions and I roll my jaw. "Your wife is resting. You should, too."

1981

I fumble for my key to the apartment, cussing under my breath when I can't get the door opened. 

"Motherfucker." I hiss, finally getting it unlocked and shoving it open…

I slam it shut and toss my keys across the room, hearing Tommy and Vince's room door creak open. 

Vivian crosses her arms, a scowl on her face, her hair tousled from sleep. 

"Could you be any louder?" She snaps, shutting the door behind her, going to the kitchen.

My eyes run up and down her long legs as she heads that way, only in one of Tommy's t-shirts and panties. 

Fuck. Me. 

I go to grab the bottle of Jack on the counter, taking a sip as she gulps some water down, a droplet escaping the glass as she drinks, rolling down her chin to her neck and I watch it, my burning throat getting dry as I try to pull myself together, my prick starting to push against my pants. 

Damnit. 

It's like the sane part of myself is trying to slap the hopelessly horny part of me. 

She's fucking evil, dude, fuck off, I tell myself. 

She's hot. 

You hate each other. 

I wonder what weird shit she's into in bed. 

She's a bitch. You know she's a bitch. Leave her alone. 

Oh, I forgot she's supposedly a virgin.

Go to bed, dumbfuck. GO TO BED. 

That means I get to watch her experience stuff for the first time.

I end up chuckling, amused at the thought of seeing her pretty eyes roll in her head as pleasure bombards her for the first time. 

"What?" She snaps, and I realize I've been staring at her. 

I'm about to answer until I get caught up at the sight of her nipples peering through her shirt...fuck me. 

"Nikki," she shoves at my shoulder, making me take my eyes off of her chest.

She just scoffs. 

"Go touch yourself in the bathroom or something. Jesus." She puts the glass down and walks past me to go back to Tommy's room.

See? Evil. 

I ignore the voice of reason and I catch her wrist and stop her, yanking her closer to me. 

She looks like a deer in headlights for a minute before I'm grabbing at her hair closest to her neck and pulling her to me, kissing her. 

It's a pretty clean kiss, no tongue, no mess, just testing the waters. 

She doesn't push me away or beat me up like I always thought she would do, instead, when I pull away for a moment, she takes a breath, wide eyed, before grabbing me by my jacket, pulling me back in. 

I'm surprised but I don't let it get in the way, taking lead a little to guide her. 

For someone who's never been kissed before (again, allegedly) she's not awful at it like I expected--well, I didn't expect her to be awful because she's never kissed anybody, I expected her to be awful because she's so mean to me. 

Her hands push my jacket off my shoulders and I push my tongue past her lips, coaxing a quiet moan from her. 

Holy shit. 

My hands go to her ass and she grasps at my hair as I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me. 

Just to see if we're on a standard starting basis of common interests, I lift one of my hands and bring it back down, not too hard, but hard enough, and she hums, fucking biting my bottom lip and grinding into me a couple times. 

I have to keep from creaming my pants just by her moving against me. 

You're being stupid, I tell myself, but I can't bring myself to leave her alone now. 

She's been the forbidden fruit or whatever for months now and I just gotta have it. 

I take her to my room and kick the door shut with my foot, taking her to the shitty mattress on the floor. 

I drop her onto it, seeing her in the glow of streetlights. 

"Take your shirt off." I say, lowly, and she rubs her lips together and slowly pulls it over her head, her bare chest exposed and my dick's practically throbbing at this point. 

I take her crucifix in my hand, and she looks down at it as I lick my lips. 

She unfastens it and throws it aside. 

I lean down and kiss her again, trailing down her neck, my tongue against her skin and she gasps out a sharp breath, her hands pulling at my shirt. 

I take it off and she's sitting up and running her palms over my shoulders, down my chest, and I grasp her around her throat, pushing her back to the mattress and I feel a little shiver go up her spine. 

My tongue circles one of her nipples and she lets out bated breaths as I take it between my teeth. 

She moans, loudly, and I move my hand to her mouth. 

"Shh!" I say. "You're gonna wake them up." I add and she nods. 

I do the same to her other breast, with my hand over her mouth, but then I get an idea. 

A glorious, completely selfish idea. 

I take my hand off of her mouth and smirk before kissing the middle of her chest, one of her top ribs, biting into it, hard, making her scratch at my shoulder while covering her own mouth as a sharp moan is forced from her.

I run my tongue over the bite mark and continue down her stomach, stopping at the top of her panties, glancing at her. 

She's still breathing heavy, hands covering her chest, tilting her head to see me. 

I run my hand over her clothed core, a little noise coming from her throat, feeling a big wet spot over her cunt. 

She lifts her hips and starts pulling them down and I take them and discard them, running my fingertips up the inside of her thigh before I rub my thumb around her clit that's slickened wet. 

Her hands jolt to mine between her legs, her back arching, trying her hardest not to be loud. 

I tug her to the edge of the mattress, and grab one of her hands, replacing mine with it before I'm looming over her for a moment. "Touch yourself." I tell her, my lips brushing against hers and I can tell she's blushing under the dark of the room. "C'mon, it's hot, just do what feels good." I add, my lips pressing against hers for a moment before I feel her hand move, a delicate gasp coming from her and I pull my lips from hers to watch her face. 

Her eyes close, her head tilts back while her other hand tangles in her hair. 

I stand up to take my pants off, grabbing at my painfully hard cock when she bucks her hips against her frail fingers. 

"Nikki," she says, eyes still shut, head back, and I rub my hands down my face. 

We haven't even fucked yet and I can already tell she's gonna make me a fucking idiot. 

I get my pants off and run my thumb over my tip and get some precum on it, leaning down and holding it up to her lips. 

"Hold your tongue out," I tell her and she opens her eyes and looks at me, before doing as I say. 

The pad of my thumb rubs it over her tongue and she lets out a satisfied sigh, looking up at me as I lick her spit off my thumb. 

I get back up on my feet for a moment and she gets up and crawls to the foot of the bed, her eyes on my prick, hunger in her eyes…

Nice try, evil bitch, you're not stealing my soul by sucking it through my dick. 

I grab her hair and make her look at me. 

"Lay down." I tell her and doesn't argue, eyes still ravenous…

I kiss up her kneecap to her thigh, sliding up and up until--

"Oh, fuck!" She whimpers out when my tongue swirls her clit around, getting the first taste of Saint Viv. 

My eyes are the ones to roll back, now. 

Holy shit. 

It's good because she's Satan and needs something to trap you with, that little voice comes back. 

Her hands find my hair, her lips find my name and if I don't get ahold of myself, I'll be finding God based on this experience alone.

Apparently she's finding him right now because all she can muster out is, "oh, God." 

I find a good rhythm with my tongue, her pussy starting to grind against my face as teasing, little sultry moans flutter through the room. 

After a minute I feel her body tense up, and I pat myself on the back as she comes, my tongue lapping at her entrance to get drunk off of her, my hands running over her stomach and thighs. 

Vivian claims we just went right into sex without doing anything aside from making out before hand but I distinctly remember going down on her. She must've blacked out once she realized we were about to fool around or something but I remember that happening because it was something I'd dreamed up doing ever since I met her, creepy but honest.

I pry myself from her to grab a rubber behind the head of the mattress, the both of us pulling ourselves up there.

I get it on and turn over, getting on top of her. 

She's already hooking her legs around me before I even line myself up with her. 

She looks like she's high or drunk, eyes nearly shut, her lip between her teeth, her head tilted slightly, exposing her neck. 

I lean down and kiss her neck, her skin damp with sweat and she sighs. 

I rub my tip against her opening and she closes her eyes. 

I push into her, having to coach myself through because fuck her pussy is tight, and she winces, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. I'm about to ask her if she's alright when she speaks first. 

"Take it off." She tells me. 

"What?" 

"The condom, take it off." 

"Are you trying to trap me or something?" I snap at her. 

"I wanna feel you." She tells me softly, and I guess it's kinda sweet, or primal, whatever. 

I pull out of her and take the condom off, dropping it by the bed before I'm pushing back into her. 

We both moan, and I can feel her body stretching to accommodate my entrance, her face showing pain. 

I pullout again, but before I can get out completely, she pulls me back in with her legs, letting out a high pitched breath. 

More of her juices coat over my cock. 

"Fuck, Vivian," I say it, thrusting into her again and she wraps her arms around my back, hugging me to her, and my lips find hers as I push into her again, and again, roughly, the feeling of heaven washing over me each time I go back inside her. 

I make her take every inch, forcing myself to fit the last inch and a half despite her body not having room, and she writhes underneath me. 

"I think I'm bleeding." She tells me breathlessly and I think she wants me to back off or get off her, but when I go to, she says, "No, keep going, it feels good." 

The look on her face is a clear indication that she's into it. 

I'm kind of shocked that churchy Vivian is into the same shit I'm into, and I grab her throat, again, and kiss her, our tongues moving together. 

"I wanna get on top next." She tells me through moans. 

"Why?" I ask. 

"I wanna see it." She says and I furrow my brows for a second before I catch on. 

I'm rolling off of her and onto my back, my hands running up her thighs and waist when she gets on top of me, and I grab myself as she straddles me, pushing it against her before my hands pull  her down onto me. 

She screws her eyes shut, as she sinks down to the hilt, her thighs shaking, and I hit her ass cheek as hard as I can and she gets so tight around me I can't pull out until she relaxes. 

"You can't do that shit." I tell her harshly, biting back my urge to go ahead and come, and she relaxes a little more as my hands hold at her waist, guiding her movements since she's never done this before. 

"Does it feel good?" I ask her, her little moans and whimpers getting me even more hot and bothered. 

"Yes," she nods, tipping her head back. "So good."

I look between us, clear view of her pussy taking it, and I sigh. 

"It looks good, too." I tell her and she leans down over me, her forehead against my chest as she watches me fuck her for a moment before looking at me, kissing me sloppily, her chest pressing against mine making her sigh when her nipples brush against my skin. 

When she pulls away, I'm sticking two fingers in her mouth, taking her by surprise but she starts sucking on them in a second, and I force them down her throat, making her gag, as I start pounding into her, making her nearly shriek out but I gag her with my hand around her throat. 

"You're so pretty." I tell her, spit all down her chin from choking on my fingers, eyes nearly shut, my hand around her throat, and I glance down between us, licking my lips. "That pussy's pretty, too." I add and she cries out when my other hand starts rubbing at her clit. 

I take my hand from her throat and she gasps for air. 

"Nikki, I'm--" 

She can't finish. 

I roll onto her again, getting on my knees and lift her hips, continuing to hammer into her roughly and her eyes go to the back of her head, as her cum soaks the both of us. 

Why the fuck didn't she tell me she can come like that? 

I feel myself reaching my own end and go to pull out but she tugs me onto her, kissing me, her legs snaking around me. 

At first I don't think she realizes I'm about to blow my kids everywhere, then when I try to pullout, she says, "do it in me, I've heard it feels good."

I look at her like she's crazy because it's something I'd never expect her to say. 

"Please, Nikki, let me have it." 

I don't have time to argue because I'm finishing with a grunt and a satisfied smile at the sight of tears of pleasure in her eyes before her lids screw shut, her mouth open as a moan leaves her, her body sparking off with shivers. 

I let her have it.

"You're a slut." I tell her, thrusting into her a couple more times and she hums at my words. 

"Shut up." She says next and I kiss her one last time before rolling off of her. 

She pulls the covers over her chest and closes her eyes, tired, and I watch her for a moment. 

Okay, she may not be a slut, but I know she's gonna be able to get away with murder and I'm gonna let her because she's fucking Vivian. 

I ran myself into my own grave, but heroin and Vivian were major catalysts, but I know I was a catalyst for her own rock bottom, too. We were just too fucking young to know better, I guess. We fell in love and got hooked on playing house without actually stopping to think what all it would look like. Of course, neither of us expected me to be on smack, neither of us expected me to reach the level of stupidity that I reached with Vanity, and neither of us expected her to be conceiving a lovechild while I was next door dying, and I certainly didn't expect to file for divorce first, if at all. I remember that first night together in that shitty apartment got me hooked on her. Not just sex, I actually started listening to what she had to say after that, and wanting to have conversations, and hangout...I fell in love and she made it easy for me to. It was like boiling a frog. Things got worse and worse slowly overtime until BAM! I had Vanity, crack, and junk, and Vivian had Duff and a secret savings account she didn't think our lawyer would get record of. I was pissed, but I knew it was my fault. 

All of it was. 

I had promised her the world and instead stole everything from her like a life-sucking demon. 

She wasn't the evil, manipulative bitch. 

I was.

[wastelandcth]

meeting cal for the first time through a friend or something and it feels like his whole world just stops 🥺

this was such a cute prompt thank you, the idea of calum thinking he’s gone crazy was so cute to me, hope you like it! - gemma x

stars - watching the stars with someone might just become one of calum’s favorite activities.

Michael’s parties usually ended with Calum walking home looking at the stars. Or most likely trying to find the stars under the pollution of the LA sky. So he had made sure to wear his comfortable boots that night, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. Calum didn’t even know what the party was for, if they were celebrating anything big or if it was just another excuse for everyone to get free drinks. He smiled as he joined Michael and Luke, both of them arguing playfully over which of their dogs was the best. Calum laughed and rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his beer, his head turning to look over as Ashton called his name.

“Hey man! Look who made it!” Ashton said happily, patting him on the back as he pulled him into a hug. “Lads, this is my new friend, the one I told you about? We met at the record store down near the studio. ” Ashton chuckled and motioned over to the girl standing next to him. She smiled and greeted them all, waving at them and taking a sip of her drink.

“Nice to meet you guys, Ashton’s said nothing but good things about you all.” she nodded and let out a small laugh, “It’s finally nice to put a face to all those crazy stories though.” she shrugged, her eyes meeting Calum’s as Ashton recalled the time the tour bus had left him at a gas station by accident, her laugh bringing Calum’s eyes to meet hers for the first time.

Calum’s breath hitched in his throat as he turned to look at her. His eyes widened a bit as he took in her appearance, the way the patio lights hit her skin and made her look as if she were glowing. He felt his heartbeat race as he held his hand out for a handshake, his brain no longer able to produce any coherent words. The loud music that Michael was blasting through his speakers seemed to stop, the lights seemed to dim around you both and all Calum could do was hold on to the bottle of beer he had been nursing in order to keep himself grounded. He felt like he’d suddenly started floating, his movements felt slow and almost like he was drunk, yet the half empty beer bottle could prove he was nothing but sober. At first, Calum thought someone had spiked his drink, his eyes could only focus on her as he blinked a couple of times, a frown forming on his face as he realized she had followed Ashton off to chat with some other friends around the party.

A few hours into the party, Calum decided he had just had a moment of heat stroke. That was the best excuse he could come up with, really the only excuse he could think of as to why he felt like he was about to faint when he saw her. Maybe the leather jacket and summertime heat was too much for him and his decision to go back into the house was what had calmed him down. But every time his eyes would land on her, his heartbeat was in his ears and he felt his mouth go dry. It was as if every time he saw her, his entire world stopped. Calum’s eyes widened, regret filling his veins as he realized he hadn’t said a single word to the girl besides a short hello. He probably looked like a freak, leaning against the kitchen counter with a warm beer in his hand, staring at the beautiful girl who stood by Ashton’s side, laughing at some bad joke someone told. But it wasn’t until she made her way inside that he felt nervous again, his palms clamming up as he set the bottle down next to the sink.

“Having fun all by yourself here?” she asked him, a hint of playfulness in her tone as she opened the fridge to grab another drink. “Ashton says you're the life of the party, you know? Must just be lying to me.” she shrugged and pulled out two bottles of beer, holding one out to the boy with the brown curls.

Calum chuckled nervously, his eyes meeting hers again as he tried to focus on what she was asking and not just on her lips. Oh god, her lips looked so soft and plush, basically calling out to be kissed. He could imagine the way they felt against his, maybe he had been drugged, because there was no way that Calum was falling this hard over a girl he had met hours ago who he hadn’t even spoken to.

“Just...hot outside. What else did he say about me?” Calum asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible as he took the bottle from her, opening up and taking a sip of the cold beer. “He’s known to hype people up.” he chuckled and shrugged, his cheeks flushing as he saw the girl laugh and shake her head.

“Said you were the most sincere guy he’s ever known. A real sweetheart.” she nodded, her lips meeting the bottle she was holding, “But that you were shit at Fifa, always scoring into your own goal. Told him it was going to be a deal breaker, honestly. But so...” she smiled, laughing quietly as she noticed the blush on the boys cheeks darken.

Maybe Calum was just so lost in her already that his brain couldn’t stop him from blurting out that he could use some training in the game. His brain also didn’t stop him when he suggested they head to his place to play a couple rounds. How Calum ended up in Michael’s driveway with her, his feet leading them both down the familiar path to his house, he didn’t know. But for once, he wasn’t walking home and staring up at the stars alone. The sounds of the city still rang in his ears, but his focus was on her and the stars, something he didn’t think would come of tonight. And the warmth of her hand in his was an added touch too.

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Tension’s Overflowing P1

Rightio, this should’ve been finished yesterday but I have had a fun weekend, so here it is today instead! The first prompt that I have written from my fantastic prompt list requested by the lovely @tooshhhy​. Taking it a smidge in my own direction, for... reasons. Enjoy!

(The prompt, since it wasn’t sent as an ask)

“I just think, that, er…” I started, suddenly losing my train of thought when I stared across the bus at Matty and that dumb, expectant smile sitting on his face.

“Mm?” He prompted, waiting for me to keep going.

“It’s just… not… uh…” I’d been trying to get this sentence out for what felt like the last five minutes. Why the fuck couldn’t I get my head sorted?

“Come on, get it together.” He chuckled quietly.

“Quit smiling at me.” I eventually blurted out.

“Why?” Matty just kept that cocky smirk on his face.

“I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.” I admitted. There were downfalls to having a major crush on one of your best mates – being unable to get out a coherent thought when they looked at you like that, was one of them.

“You can’t stop messing up your sentences because you’re drunk.” He argued with a pointed look.

“I’m not that drunk.” I tried to defend myself, but I knew full well that was a lie. I turned my gaze back out the window, hoping that looking at the passing scenery would help me settle down my motion sickness, and that staring at Matty less would make my heart stop hammering in my chest. Either would be nice.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have another shot.” My mohawked friend laughed loudly. I tore my eyes away from the window, shooting a glare at him.

“I’m fine it’s just-” I paused for a moment to stop myself from retching, clearing my throat before continuing, “this bus is just really bumpy.” Staring out the window was at least helping the nausea somewhat, even if it wasn’t as much as I would’ve liked. Leaning my head on the window, although nice for a brief moment as the coolness settled in, didn’t feel overly great as soon as the bus started moving again and my brain felt like it was being rattled from the inside out. After another minute of trying to regulate my breathing and getting my churning stomach under control, I felt someone sit next to me.

“As much as I know you always want to impress me, you shouldn’t do it at the detriment of your health.” He grinned, now suddenly sitting much closer to me than what he had been. I was all too quickly overwhelmed with the smell of the tequila he’d been drinking all night and the joint he’d smoked before we got on the bus. I hated to admit that it was strangely comforting in it’s familiarity.

“I wasn’t trying to impress you.” I defended with a frown, feeling my words slur slightly on my tongue. “You’re just a bad influence.”

“If I was such a bad influence, you wouldn’t hang out with me so much.” Matty shot back as he suddenly pulled me against his side. The sudden movement caused a lurch in my stomach, but the feeling of being so close to him was too nice to pull myself away from.

  Matty’s warmth was easy enough to settle into, and the overwhelming feeling of cosiness had me reflecting on the evening’s events. The band played a show to celebrate the release of their last EP. We went to go get drinks after. Eventually a few others peeled off from the bar and made their way home. Matty, George and myself had been the only ones left in the end, kicking on until nearly two in the morning. I was fairly certain we had been drinking the entire time since before the show until we got on this bus. No wonder my head was spinning. My memory was fairly hazy, but suddenly one detail came back to me in a flash. “I have to tell you something really important and if I don’t tell you now, I won’t get the chance.” I said abruptly.

“What?” Matty asked in concern as he looked down at me.

“I lost your wallet.” I said quietly, feeling the guilt settle in the pit of my stomach as soon as I said it. I remembered using his card to pay for a drink at the bar, and then had no recollection of it after that.

“No, you didn’t.” He said softly as he shook his head.

“Yes, I did.”

“No.” He shuffled slightly, reaching into his back pocket to show me. “I’ve got it here.” He said as he held the wallet out as proof.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, staring at the object in question doubtfully. To be fair, my vision was slightly blurred as I tried to focus on it to verify if it was, in fact, Matty’s wallet.

“Yes.” He said with a small laugh.

“This is why I love you.” I mumbled against his shoulder, letting my eyes slip shut now that I knew I’d not lost something so important.

“Yeah?

“Mm.”

“Tell me that when you’re sober.” I didn’t have to be looking at him to know that teasing smile that was ever-present on his stupidly handsome face was back.

“Sure.” I nodded, suddenly find myself too tired to keep responding.

  * * *

  I tried my best to keep myself still as she slept away on my shoulder, but these bumpy fucking roads weren’t overly helpful in that regard. We weren’t too far now from where we had to get off, so it wouldn’t be much of a nap, but I felt it might help her sober up at least a bit. I watched as George walked up from the front of the bus to make sure at least one of us was alert.

“You good?” He asked as he leaned against one of the seats in front of us.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “You?”

“Fine.” His gaze flicked down to the girl snoring away on my shoulder. “I know I’ve asked before but…” He paused for a moment, looking like he was debating what he was about to asked next. “Are you sure you guys are just friends?” He asked, looking back up at me.

“Yeah, of course we are.” I said as I rolled my eyes. George just shrugged and walked off.

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning feeling like I was overheating and getting progressively more nauseous the more I laid there. For a few minutes I tried to roll over to get to a cooler position, only to realise I was on a couch and there wasn’t a cooler position. Eventually I had to kick off the blanket I had on and by then, I was awake and there was no going back. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, feeling my head spin slightly as I took in the room around me. This was Matty and George’s flat. He must’ve dragged me back here last night. How had we even gotten here? I vaguely remembered getting on a bus after we left the bar, but after that it was a bit hazy. The more I woke up, the more I felt the dryness in my mouth and the headache setting in behind my eyes. Ugh. Today was going to suck.

“How you feeling?” I heard Matty’s familiar voice ask as he stepped into my line of sight.

“Shit.” I groaned.

“Sounds about right.” He laughed as he perched himself on the arm of the couch at my feet. “Want a glass of water?”

“Yes.” I nodded, instantly regretting moving my head. “And maybe a bowl.” I just heard him chuckle from the other room.

  He came back a few moments later with a large plastic Tupperware container and a glass of water, both of which he sat beside me on the end table.

“Where’s George?” I asked, realising I’d not heard any other sounds other that Matty padding around the kitchen.

“Out somewhere.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t here when I woke up.”

I leaned over, grabbing the glass of water and noticing that it was quite bright outside. “What’s the time?” I frowned.

“Nearly midday.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve not been up long either.” I took a proper look at him in that moment. He seemed rested enough, and didn’t seem to be showing the same signs of a hangover that I was. I mean, he was upright for a start. He ran a hand through his hair as I continued to scrutinise his current state.

“How’re you looking so chipper?” I eventually questioned. At the time, I thought he’d been drinking just as much as I had been.

“Practice.” He smirked. I just rolled my eyes in response.

  Matty wandered off shortly after that, saying something about ‘writing something down’ and leaving me to my own devices to slowly sort out my hangover. Thankfully, I didn’t need the bowl in the end. My stomach felt volatile, but steady enough for me to be able to sit up properly on the couch. I turned his TV on after a few minutes, glad to have the distraction from my splitting headache. The longer I sat in front of the TV, the more I remembered of last night. I recalled rounds of shots at the bar, Ross drunkenly singing something in front of a crowd, losing Matty’s wallet? No, because he said on the bus that he still had his wallet. Oh, no. My headache was forgotten for a brief moment as I had a vague feeling of where that conversation had gone after that.

“You want some toast?” Matty asked as he stepped out of his bedroom. He took one look at me before he frowned, and then began smiling. “Are you blushing?” He asked in a teasing tone.

“Uh, no.” I lied, shrinking back into the couch slightly.

“What’s up?” He asked as he walked over.

  I stared at him on the couch next to me for a long moment, trying to estimate what his reaction would be - trying to remember what his reaction was. “What...” I cleared my throat, trying to gain some semblance of confidence around this conversation topic. “What did I say last night?”

“When?”

“On the bus.” I clarified.

“You went on some tangent about Game of Thrones, that you never finished.” Matty chuckled quietly to himself. “Told me off for smiling. Said you lost my wallet. Told me you loved me. Standard drunken stuff.” He answered.

I took in a deep breath, trying to steady my heartrate. “Yeah... I er, wasn’t lying when I said that.” I admitted.

He seemed to take a second to realise what I was referring to. “Yeah, of course, I love all you guys.” He shrugged casually.

Well, it was fucking now or never. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“You-” For once, his confident façade fell away and he looked genuinely taken aback by this news. “What?”

  My face felt like it was turning beet red as I judged his expression. “I thought you knew?” I asked quietly. I hadn’t been overly secretive about my attraction to him, not that anything had transpired as a result.

“Well, obviously it makes sense that you’re into me.” He laughed lightly, running a hand through his mohawk.

I suddenly found myself feeling defensive. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I, I’m a magnet for this sort of thing, you know.” He said with a smug look.

“You aren’t making this very easy, Matty.” I huffed, taking a sip from the glass of water next to me.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked. I stopped for a moment after that to think. What did I want him to say? I more so just wanted to get my own feelings out in the open, but now that he was fully aware of them, the ball was in his court. It was unexpectedly incredibly intimidating feeling like I had no power over this situation. I supposed I just wanted to know where his head was at.

  “What’s, uh… your opinion? On all this?” I settled on.

“It’s pretty flattering.” He said with a shrug.

“That’s it?” I asked, hoping to get more of a response than that.

“Well, we’re mates.” He answered.

“And that’s all?” I prodded. I wanted a deeper response, some kind of genuine feeling from the man in front of me. Not half-hearted quick-fire responses.

“I’ve not really ever thought about it.” He admitted.

“Would you?”

“I’d gladly let you occupy my thoughts.” He winked.

Something in my brain just snapped at that, and I quickly realised I didn’t want to be here anymore. “I feel like… maybe we should get some distance.” I said softly, standing up from the couch. My head spun slightly, but the hangover was easing.

  “What?” Matty asked in surprise, scrambling to his feet.

“I just-” I started, sighing as I tried to organise my racing thoughts. “Maybe we need some time apart.” I suggested again.

“Why?” He asked with a confused frown.

“Clearly you don’t want to take this seriously.” I answered, feeling a pang of hurt as the words came from my mouth. I tried to ignore it as I gathered my stuff.

“Well, hang on-” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Are you feeling alright? Are you okay to get home?” He rattled off.

“I’ll take a taxi.” I said dismissively as I checked my pockets.

“I can drive you.” He offered, quickly grabbing his keys, but I’d already made it to his front door.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

The End.

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Or

(Spoiler alert, it isn’t, here’s part two) 

[yandere-daydreams]

Hello! I'm new to your blog but I have very much enjoyed your work! Esp your Dabi w Deku's darling series, you write Dabi in a way that makes my heart soft and it's a nice way to see him written. I was curious if you may share headcanons or a drabble following up the last part of their interactions, so further healing of the two of them moving on/coping w their respective past traumas? Maybe even some fluffy romance if possible! Hope this finds you well and best of luck with your writing! 💖💖💖

While I will leave the nature of Dabi and his Not-Darling’s relationship ambiguous, I figured I might as well give him the birthday present he deserves. Here’s a link to the Masterlist for this series, but it’s easier to take fluff for what it is, honestly.

TW: Past Abuse (Physical and Emotional), Guilt Over Abandonment, Panic Attacks, and Mentions of PSTD. 

~

“Do you have a lighter?”

Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle, watching as you sloppily threw together another round of shots with ingredients you had spent far too long looking for. Kurogiri had given up trying to limit the League’s alcohol consumption hours ago, instead turning his attention towards Shigaraki and the boy in pink he was sitting next to, Toga and her own guest having been deemed a lost cause as soon as they noticed an old dartboard hung on the back wall, Twice still attempting to edge his way into their game without ending up on the wrong side of half a dozen knives. “I am the lighter,” He replied, reaching out and letting a small, blue flicker of a flame form in his palm for emphasis. “Don’t say you’re trying to replace me, dollface.”

You pouted, batting his hand away, your elbow throwing a spare bottle of tequila off-balance. Dabi caught it without thinking, only earning another huff and a glare on your part, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. “When you start letting me dip my fingers in your drinks, I’ll let you stick yours in mine.” Again, you ducked down quickly, pawing at something under the counter for a moment before you came back up, a dusty box of matches in hand and a renew glint in your eyes. “Besides, it’s your birthday, you’re not allowed to do any work. It’s, like, birthday law.”

It took him a moment to process what you’d said, no one had mentioned his birthday in years. He might’ve told you the date in passing, but that had to be ages ago, and the fact that you remembered somehow surpassed the shock that he’d forgotten. Still, he tried not to let you see that, only slumping forward and propping himself up on the bar-top. “When you’re seven, maybe,” He countered, trying to steal one of the now-finished B-52s, only to have you move them out of his reach. “What do you want me to do, bring in cupcakes for the class?”

“I want you to relax for once, but cake wouldn’t hurt.” You were only half-focused on him, now, sparking up a match and letting it brush against the drink’s surface, not pulling your hand away fast enough to out-run the combustion. But, much to Dabi’s relief, you shook it off in a few seconds, your fingertips hardly even reddened. He had to remind himself that you were capable, these days. More than he was, at least. 

Not that he’d set the bar very high. 

“Besides,” You continued, your voice quieter than it’d been before. You didn’t seem reluctant, no traces of hesitation breaching your tone, you were just… quieter. Calmer, in a way that sobered Dabi as much as it sobered you. If only slightly. “You… you made my birthday really nice, after you took me in. I don’t think I told you, but it was the first time I went outside. For more than a few minutes, I mean.”

Dabi didn’t have to think, he knew what you were talking about instantly. It’d been a struggle to get you to do anything on your own, back then. You’d had tears in your eyes as you’d stepped out of his apartment building, and you hadn’t said a damn word the entire day, only clinging to his arm and shaking your head whenever he asked a question, not unlike Shoto on his first day of school. But, he’d been in kindergarten. You’d been in a pervert’s basement. “I can still feel your fucking nails digging into me, sometimes,” Dabi commented, no real force behind the statement. “I’m going to make you take me out somewhere nice one day, to make up for it.”

“Put on a decent shirt first, and we’ll see.” The shot was shoved in front of him unceremoniously, a drop or two spilling over the side in your eagerness. You weren’t trying to stop yourself anymore, laughing at nothing and beaming as he blew it out, his narrowed eyes enough to make what would happen if you sung graphically clear. It was still smoldering as he swallowed it, singing at his throat and leaving a sickeningly sweet aftertaste, but the fruits of your labor went down easily. You seemed content too, slamming your glass back down on the counter, if only to giggle at the sound of wood against metal.

With a sigh, Dabi stretched, leaning back on his stool. “Is that all? I’m an old man now, (Y/n), and I’m not sticking around here long enough to see Spinner fist-fight Handjob in the stockroom. I’m not cleanin’ that shit up unless I get to punch one of the bastards myself, either.”

You groaned, already fed with his social aversion, but your resolve lessened at the threat of more whining. “There’s… there’s one more thing,” You admitted, reaching into your back pocket. He recognized the game advert you’d stolen from Shigaraki last week, but hadn’t expected to see it wrapped around a small, nearly flat container. You weren’t careless with this one, placing it delicately in the hand he offered. Like you were afraid he’d break it just from holding it too tightly. “Happy birthday, Touya.”

He opened it hastily, tearing through the thin paper without reserve. The box underneath was unmarked and unlabelled, and the inside wasn’t much better, just a scrap of paper with a few numbers and a street name messily scrawled across its length. All he could do was glance up at you, expression somewhere between entertained and utterly confused. “What the fuck is this supposed to be?”

“The address to a soba shop down the street, one that stays open until the sun rises.” You shifted awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of you. “It’s where your siblings hold a memorial every year. Just the three of them. I think Rei’s going too, but I’m not sure.” With a sigh, you glanced up, meeting his eyes and steeling yourself, if only to keep from looking away. “I thought you might want to see them.”

He didn’t hesitate, crumpling the note in his hands and letting it fall back into the box, pushing himself to his feet. “I can’t do that.”

“You don’t have to,” You assured, already walking around the bar. He could’ve left, he could’ve ran, but his pulse was suddenly beating in his ears, his heart pounding against his throat, the idea of speaking becoming as impossible as executing any plans he had to flee. A soft touch on his back made him jolt, shoulders squaring into a defensive position, but the look of pure concern etched into your face was enough for a forming attack to dissipate. “I’m not going to make you. I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to, either.” There was a pause, and you pulled away. Dabi wished he could say how desperately he didn’t want you to. “But, your siblings miss their brother.”

“Fuyumi’d never forgive me.” It wasn’t an opinion, to him, the thought as objective as any other fact. “Natsuo wouldn’t, either. Not a single fucking one of them should. I’d be lucky if Shoto doesn’t arrest me on the spot.”

You shrugged, but you didn’t correct him. “I don’t think you’re right but… neither of us really know, do we? You’ll have to go if you want to find out.”

He didn’t respond, and you lowered your head, taking his silence as a signal to leave him alone. It hurt, seeing you walk away, a thousand pins and needles driving themselves into his lungs, something as simple as taking in air becoming an act of resistance. It felt like he was trying to inhale smoke, like everything around him was ash and debris and crumbling, and he was stuck in the middle of it, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. As helpless and as weak as he was back then.

But, there was something he could do, even if it limited the damage. One thing that was within his reach, or… half a block away, rather.

He caught your hand tentatively, stumbling forward to reach you. He could hear the others muttering, whispering amongst themselves, but he didn’t care, focusing on what was in front of him as you stared over your shoulder. It took another hitched stutter before he could spit something coherent out, but you waited patiently. He wondered if he’d ever be able to tell you how much he appreciated that. “I’m not embarrassing myself alone, idiot.”

For a moment, he thought you would be the one to break down, your eyes fogging over as you brought up your free hand to rub at them. But, he was able to let go of the breath he’d been holding in as you smiled, then laughed, intertwining your fingers with his as tears began to flow openly. He couldn’t tell whose they were, at this point.

He knew he was smiling, though, and he knew he couldn’t stop as you started to tug him towards the door.

“I don’t know why I ever expected you to.”

[missperfectlyfine13]

Could This Be Something Real? (Chap. 5/?)

Read below or on AO3

“Breaking up” with Beca…no scratch that, “dating” Beca was seemingly one of the biggest mistakes Chloe has ever made.

She should have known better when she offered to fake date that she would only end up hurt. Although she never thought she would end up madly in love with the girl. With how strong her feelings were…are, Chloe’s surprised she didn’t realize how she felt about her best friend sooner. It took them to actually date for her to realize.

Chloe has spent the last few days crying it out and trying to figure out where she went wrong. It’s clear Beca feels something for her but every time they took it a step further she pulled back. Was she coming on to strong? Did she scare Beca? Or did she read her completely wrong? Maybe Beca doesn’t like her like that at all. Maybe they’re destined to only ever be friends, although that might have even been ruined during their fall out.

They haven’t talked since it happened. Which is why Chloe is utterly confused right now.

B: I have a huge favor to ask

She stares down at her phone, at a text from Beca, for what seems like forever. She really shouldn’t answer it, but her fingers twitch over the keyboard betrayingly so.

C: What?

B: I hate to ask you this…but I really need you to be my date one more time

She’s unbelievable. What part of ‘I’m done’, doesn’t she get?

C: For what?

She could chop her own fingers off, that was not the response she wanted to send.

B: A charity event to help homeless LGBT youth…I know it’s random, but I told them I would bring you a long time ago, they were really excited to have us

Of course, it has to be for the kids, way to tug on her heart strings. Even so, Chloe should say no, she should tell her no, put her phone down and walk away.

C: When is it?

Yet again, her fingers betray her.

B: This Friday night

C: Ok but because it’s for the kids…and this is the last time Beca!

B: Omg thank you so much Chlo. I swear this will be the last time

Chloe groans, throwing her phone down on the sofa next to her. What did she just get herself into?

************

Friday night rolls around and Chloe is staring at herself in the full-length mirror in Beca’s bathroom. Beca had asked her to come over and get ready at her house, since her hair and makeup team would be there. Chloe had begrudgingly agreed.

They really did a wonderful job though, and her gown is absolutely gorgeous. She swears she’s never been in a more beautiful article of clothing. It’s floor length and baby blue, it’s a princess style cut, that frames her figure perfectly.

The moment she sees Beca though, she has to remind herself that she’s supposed to be angry at her. It’s hard when she looks so radiant. She’s in a dress similar to Chloe’s, but it’s a cream color and a bit slimmer than hers. Her hair is pinned up in intricate curls. It’s altogether far more feminine and girly than Beca ever dresses. It makes Chloe wonder why she chose it, it’s definitely not her norm.

“You look really nice,” Chloe manages to breathe out, her throat has gone dry at the sight of the girl before her.

“So do you,” Beca compliments her back, her eyes wandering up and down Chloe’s form.

It’s the most they’ve spoken to each other since Chloe arrived 3 hours ago. It makes Chloe unbelievably sad that this is what it’s come to. She used to talk to Beca all day, she told her everything.

“Well, we should get going,” Beca says abruptly, leading the way out to the car waiting for them.

************

Chloe is realizing that she’s been in this situation a few too many times now. It feels eerily similar to the moment that broke them a week ago. Except there’s a bite of hostility between the two. She hopes it’s not palpable enough for anyone to notice.

Beca has a had a few too many drinks…well so has Chloe and everything is starting to feel all too comfortable. Even with the bad vibes, Beca is a little too handsy. Choe is giving into it more than she would like. Beca is due to give a speech on her experience being part of the LGBT community very soon and Chloe is starting to wonder if she’ll be coherent enough to not make a fool of herself.

“Bec, you really should lay off the drinks for a bit. Why don’t we get you some water or a soda,” Chloe grabs the short tumbler of amber liquid from the brunette’s hands.

“You’re not my mom Chloe,” Beca pouts but lets Chloe take the glass from her anyway.

“You’re right I’m not your mom…I’m your girlfriend,” Chloe’s voice drips with sarcasm as she says it, “and someone has to make sure you’re with it for your speech.”

Beca’s face softens at the mention of her speech, “Oh shit, do I sound drunk?”

Chloe shakes her head no, “You’re fine, but you’ve just slurred a few words. Drink some water and try to sober up quick.”

She doesn’t drink any water, just sits at their table with her arms crossed over her chest. Chloe doesn’t really know what her problem is tonight, but at least she’s not drinking any more.

The time finally comes for Beca to make her speech and Chloe watches carefully as Beca makes her way up onto the platform. She only missteps once, hopefully no one suspects that she’s as tipsy as she is. She starts to speak and honestly, she really is doing a great job. She’s a little looser, sharing a little more than she normally would but in this case it’s ok. Just when Chloe is sure she’s done and is going to make her way back, Beca points a finger out into the audience, in Chloe’s general direction. This can’t be good…

“One more thing before I head off the stage, I want to give a big shout out and thank you to my wonderful girlfriend Chloe.”

In a matter of seconds, hundreds of faces turn to look at Chloe. She squirms under the sudden attention.

“Without her…I would be nothing. She’s beautiful, kind, so caring and she makes me happy every single day. I love you more than you will ever know Chloe.”

The crowd erupts into oohs and ahhs at Beca’s little dedication. Chloe’s face instantly heats up at the words. Did she really mean that? Was it for show? Or was it the inner workings of a drunk Beca? Either way, Chloe can’t help the way her hands are shaking, or her pulse is racing.

After what feels like a century, Beca finally makes it back to their spot. She slides onto the chair next to Chloe, beaming ear to ear.

“So, how’d I do?” she gives her a toothy grin.

“Beca…why did you say that?” Chloe’s voice quivers as she asks it.

Beca’s hand slides onto the top of Chloe’s leg, the younger woman gazes into her eyes, “Because I love you Chlo.”

This is getting almost cruel, Chloe can’t help the tears that are already in the corner of her vision, ready to spring free.

“Don’t say that,” Chloe looks down at her lap, where Beca’s hand still lays.

“Why?” she actually looks like she doesn’t get it.

Chloe sighs deeply, “Don’t say that unless you actually mean it…my heart can’t take much more of this.”

There’s a flash of recognition on Beca’s face, she seems to instantly sober up, “Wait…Chloe. Do you have feelings for me?”

Chloe actually laughs at the question, “Oh my god Bec, did it really take you this long to figure it out?”

Beca just looks back at her dumbly, not able to form any coherent speech. The cats out of the bag, so Chloe figures she might as well keep going.

“That’s why I asked to break up. I can’t stand to pretend that you’re mine for one more day. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t help how I feel,” the red head quickly justifies her words and gets ready to receive the world’s biggest heart break.

Instead of being quietly rejected, Chloe finds herself being dragged away from their table, towards the bathrooms. Beca hasn’t found her words yet but apparently knows what she wants, the way she had grabbed Chloe’s hand and pulled her up from her seat. Beca drags her into the bathroom, Chloe sighs in relief when she sees that it’s seemingly vacant.

Before Chloe can even ask why Beca dragged her here, the brunette surges forward and captures Chloe’s lips with her own. Chloe kisses her back hungrily, not caring that they are in a public restroom where anyone could walk in. Her heart soars and her entire body tingles. The kiss is packed with every ounce of emotion both girls have held in for weeks. It’s nothing like any of their other kisses. Chloe can feel that this is real.

Beca breaks away for a second to mumble against Chloe’s lips, “I love you so damn much Chlo.”

Chloe whimpers before pulling Beca back into her, her tongue begs for entrance into the other girl’s mouth, which she is quickly granted. She feels herself being slowly guided backwards, until her back collides with cool tile and she hears the click of a stall door. The newfound privacy makes Beca spring into action, her hands wandering all over Chloe’s body. Chloe can’t help the loud moan that reverberates throughout the bathroom when Beca’s lips leave hers to trail down the side of her neck. As quickly as her lips make the descent down Chloe’s neck, her hand finds it’s way to a cloth and sequin covered breast.

Even with the onslaught of sensations, Chloe manages to breathily make her own feelings known, “I love you too Bec.”

Beca moans into her skin and her hands take a firmer hold on her breasts. Chloe squirms under her touch, already embarrassingly turned on. She doesn’t want this to happen in a bathroom stall, not their first time. So, when Beca drops to her knees, Chloe grabs her hands and forces her to look up.

“Not like this Bec, come back up here,” she says softly, her body is screaming at her for stopping but they can’t, not here.

Beca looks disappointed, but Chloe pulls her into a slow, lazy kiss.

“I want this Beca, believe me I do, but not in a bathroom stall, fully clothed.”

Beca nods understandingly, “You’re right, I feel the same.”

Beca leans back in to kiss Chloe deeply, pulling her as close as she can.

“You want to get out of here?” Beca pulls away and asks.

“Don’t you have to kind of be here?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

Beca shakes her head, “Not anymore, I did my part.”

“Oh ok, let’s go then,” Chloe gives her a small smile.

Beca grabs her hand and leads them from the stall and the bathroom. Chloe feels like she’s glowing she’s so happy. She’s not sure what this means for them yet, but Beca feels the same. Beca loves her and that’s all Chloe has ever wanted.

[levi-inthesun]

Loving Someone

This is for @stuckonjbbarnes​ writing challenge with the song Loving Someone by The 1975. 

Summary: In order to protect your heart, you made up the “only fuck once” rule, dictating that you could not sleep with the same person more than once. Then Carol Danvers comes back to the compound, to stay. Will this rule bite you in the ass?

Warnings: Swearing, references to smut, dirty talk?

Paring: Carol x Reader

A/N- I did not edit this.... so sorry

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as you both slowed to an easy jog.

“Probably just gonna go the bar,” you reply easily.

Sam stops abruptly, “How long are you going to stay in denial?” There isn’t any malice or bite to his words, just genuine concern and it makes you feel uneasy. You make some non-committal noise instead of answering and finish jogging to the doors of the compound. 

You do your best to avoid Sam the rest of the day, which wasn’t too difficult until it’s time for you to leave for your favorite bat. Except Sam is standing by the door, dressed and ready to go. As you approach, Sam has that look in his eyes and you know you cannot convince him to stay home unless you stay home tonight. 

“You driving or are we getting an uber?” You ask, throwing your cropped leather jacket on. 

“I’ll drive,” Sam decides, grabbing a random set of keys and you both make your way to the garage.

The bar is only slightly packed, which is, in your humble opinion, optimal. You like to have room to breathe, more specifically though, room to dance with whatever woman consents. 

You skip over to the bar and order a rum and coke and chat with your favorite bartender and Sam watches from a booth he’s claimed. 

“You know, you are a lot less closed off here,” he casually says while throwing a peanut into his mouth. 

“Are you just going to therapize me the entire night?” You (semi) joke.

Sam shrugs and you take a long sip of your drink before moving towards the dancing people.

The night went on how every weekend-night goes. You get pleasantly buzzed/on the edge of drunk, dance with hot women, and eventually, go to either your place or their place where you will (hopefully) ravish each other. 

~

You wake up slowly, a faint pressure on your hip. You hear the woman behind you breathe deeply before stretching gently.

“Morning,” she says softly, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. “I’d love to stay for breakfast, er,” she looks at her phone. “Lunch but I’ve got a meeting later.” 

You nod and watch her hop around throwing her clothes back on. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom then I’ll be out of your hair,” she says, watching as you sit up and the sheet pools around your waist.

You raise an eyebrow in reply.

Once she’s left (with her phone number written on your mirror with the lipstick she was wearing last night), you throw on a pair of sweats and one of Sam’s shirts before making your way out to the kitchen.

“She was cute,” Sam says, throwing something in the microwave.

You hum in agreement and look through the fridge, eventually settling on an apple. 

“Oh, we’ve got a meeting at 3,” Sam informs you. “Captain Marvel is back in town and she has some stuff she needs to brief us on.”

“Captain Marvel is a woman, huh?” You ask Sam, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“You do know that not everyone is bisexual, right?” Sam teases. He grabs his bag of popcorn out of the microwave and starts to walk out of the kitchen before turning back. “Uh, maybe don’t have a one night stand with our teammate?”

~~

You are ready to crawl into a hole or have the earth open up and eat you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Carol greets you, a mischievous glint in her light brown eyes. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you whisper before composing yourself. “Hey, Carol,” you say, shaking her hand. 

“I already did,” Carol states, voice low, before switching gears to get the meeting started. 

The entire meeting is spent trying to listen to Carol talk about possible issues outside of the earth’s orbit, but really you just end up staring, flashes from last night taking over when she moves a certain way. The other part is spent sending death glares at Sam and Bucky who are having the time of their lives at your misery.

Carol excuses herself to take a call and you lean forward, finger-pointing at the men across from you.

“You knew!” You whisper scream, “You couldn’t have warned me? What the hell?” 

Sam grins, “I just… Listen, I was going to when I realized it was Carol, but then I remembered that it is 5 million times more fun watching you suffer.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, “Wait, did you hook up with Carol?”

“Some spy you are,” you grumble as Carol walks back in, a slight frown on her face.

“Apparently I’m grounded for the next… well,” Carol pauses, taking a deep breath, “foreseeable future.”

Sam and Bucky high-five under the table, then volunteer you to show Carol around. 

~

After showing Carol around the compound you decided you needed to go out again tonight. During the tour, Carol was extremely flirty, which was welcomed- except for the fact that she was a teammate and not a one night stand. To avoid her, you spent the rest of the day hiding in your room and searching your closet for the perfect outfit to wear. You ended up in a crop top with high waisted, wide-legged pants, and after checking yourself in the mirror you walked out of your room with your head held high. Luckily no one was in the kitchen and you were able to leave the compound without anyone noticing, or so you thought.

The club was vibrating with energy as patrons drank too much and danced as much as they could. You downed a shot at the bar then headed into the crowd. At the heart of the masses, you threw your hands in the air and danced, not caring who with. Soon a pair of large hands gripped your hips. Turning your head to the side, you glanced up at the beautiful man before leaning your body into his. Time was non-existent as you danced with the man and you were positive the feeling of his hand on your waist was burned into your skin.  

“You want to get out of here,” he asked, lips at the shell of your ear and voice low. 

“I’d rather stay here and dance for a little while longer. That good with you?” You replied eyebrow raised.

Instead of saying anything, he rolled his eyes and walked away, attaching those large hands to some other woman.

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you headed back to the bar and ordered a beer. You sat down and took a long drag from the bottle before popping some peanuts into your mouth. A remix of your favorite song came on, causing you to down the rest of the bottle before heading back into the throng.

You moved your own body with the mix of bodies around you, circling your hips, running your fingers through your hair. You saw a familiar hand slip around your middle and in your alcohol-induced haze, you thought it would be a good idea to test fate.

Lips crashed together as you both got out of the taxi and headed towards the compound. 

“Wait,” you cautioned, “ Gotta make sure no one is up.”

“It’s 3 am, Y/N,” Carol countered, “Who is going to be up?”

You chuckled before heading into the common area, Carol trailing behind you. When you found everything dark and empty, Carol’s voice cut through the silence.

“FRIDAY, are any of our teammates up?”

“No,” FRIDAYS voice replied, volume lowered for how late early it was, “All Avengers except you and Y/N Y/L/N are asleep.”

A mischievous look took over Carol’s features as she stalked towards you, causing you to back into a couch, almost falling over the back of it.

Carol quickly caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing her lips to your neck with open-mouthed kisses, causing a low moan to escape you. She then traced her tongue from the pulse point below your jaw over to your mouth. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” Carol teased, voice low. “If you can do that, I’ll reward you by taking you to my room and fucking you so hard you can’t help but scream.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you nodded, crashing your lips against hers.

~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was that you were alone in Carol’s bed. You quickly looked around, finding her room empty.

“God damnit,” you muttered to yourself. “I was supposed to go to the club and find  someone else to sleep with.” 

Your muttering continued as climbed out of her bed to find your clothes scattered throughout her quarters.

You didn’t notice right away when Carol walked back in, giving her the opportunity to admire your half-dressed form. 

You were about to put your bra on when you noticed her, leaning up against her desk with two mugs of coffee in hand. Her lips turned up in a smirk as she saw what she thought looked a lot like relief flood over you. 

Standing there, bra hanging around your middle, still staring at the gorgeous woman you’ve slept with twice now, you were overwhelmed with confusion. You quickly shook your head and fixed your bra and Carol pushed off the desk towards you.

“Thought you might want some coffee,” she said, handing it over.

“After last night I’ll probably need a pint,” you whispered, taking a sip.

“What was that?” Carol asked eyebrow raised. 

You coughed and looked up at her before clearing your throat. “Uh, I just said I’d probably need a pint after last night.”

Carol smiled, “And why is that?”

“Seriously, Carol? Do you need to hear me say it?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Say it.”

You set the coffee down on the nearest flat surface before stepping closer to her. “I need a goddamn pint of coffee because you fucked me into almost every surface of your room until I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.”

“And I’ll do it anytime you’d like,” she told you, voice husky.

You quickly cleared your throat, then located your shirt and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t count on it,” you did your best to keep your voice even. “I rarely sleep with the same person more than once.”

~

You spent the following weeks avoiding Carol unless absolutely necessary, which included going to a different bar and staying more sober than you normally would, just to make sure you didn’t accidentally end up back in her arms bed. 

“You’ve been drinking less,” Bucky stated with a questioning look on his face.

“And what’s that to ya, bionicle boy?” you responded, taking another bite of leftover pasta.

Bucky shrugged, “ Just curious. I-”

“Not just curious,” Sam interrupted, walking out from around the corner. “There are very few things that can get you to drink less. So what is it?”

You huffed and was about to deny them when Carol walked in, sweaty from the gym. She greeted you and you smiled in response, then did your best to not watch the bead of sweat trail down her neck. 

You sighed inwardly when she walked out of the kitchen.

Sam and Bucky shared a look before narrowing in on you. 

“You just sighed,” Bucky accused, “What happened between you and Carol?”

“I bet I know,” Sam said. “I bet you slept with Carol a second time, breaking your only fuck once rule.”

You tried to interrupt Sam, but he wouldn’t let you.

“BUT! Not only that, you have a crush on her,” he finished. 

“I do not!” You exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed. 

“Your voice just went up an octave,” Bucky observed, “Which means you are lying.”

“What do you have to say about that?” Sam questioned.

You could feel your face heat up and you jumped off the counter. “I’d say,” you turn to them, legitimately annoyed now, ��That it’s none of your business.”

Instead of stomping off to your room, you walked out the front door and headed in whatever direction your feet took you, ending up at a park. Taking a deep breath you sat down on a nearby bench and let your head fall back so you were looking up at the sky. You stayed like that for a while, just watching the soft clouds roll by, mind empty. 

At least, it was empty until you looked up and saw two women holding hands, watching their kid go down the slide. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. 

You thought about what Bucky and Sam had accused you of, and you knew they were right. You had a big ole’ fat crush on Carol Danvers, fucking Captain Marvel, the woman who played your body better than anyone ever had. That’s when memories flooded your mind.

Memories about people from your past who you had cared deeply for, and who all betrayed your heart. The last one was just after you dropped out of college, right before the Avengers recruited you. After her, you swore you’d never care for anyone in that way ever again. It was just easier that way. Except, when you looked back up at the couple, you felt a heavy loneliness come over you filled with a special kind of pain.  

You looked away and your eyes caught on a woman who looked too much like Carol. You rolled your eyes before scrubbing your hands over your face. 

“Y/N?” Carol’s voice called out, causing you to tear your eyes from a spot on the sidewalk, surprise etched into your features. “I was looking for you when Sam told me you walked off, upset. He said you’d probably be here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. 

Carol took that as an invitation to sit down next to you, allowing some space between. 

“I was looking for you because I am fed up with you avoiding me,” She stated. “I’ve been tired of it for about a while now, actually.” 

You let your eyes slide over to the woman next to you, eyeing her carefully. 

“Another reason I came looking for you is because I was worried about you,” she said softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you said far too quickly. 

“Obviously,” Carol chuckled. 

You were both quiet for a few beats too long when Carol spoke up again.

“It would be easy for me to be upset with how you’ve been treating me without acknowledging something probably happened to cause you to react like this,” she said, “So, I’ll just say this once and leave the ball in your court.” She turned her body towards yours and your body turned all on its own to face her. “It sucks that someone, or multiple someones, hurt you so badly in your past that you’ve decided to make your ‘only fuck once’ rule, all to avoid developing any sort of connection or feelings for anybody ever again. It seems like your rule to avoid connection is hurting you more than you thought it would, so I know there’s hope,” Carol stood up abruptly to stand in front of you. 

“You should be loving someone,” she finally said. “Just, fucking let yourself love someone.” 

You sat there staring at her, heart beating out of your chest because you knew she was right. You stayed silent because you were scared of how much you have already started falling for her, and you were searching for the right thing to say. 

Carol hung her head in defeat before turning to walk back down the path she came, pausing like she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind and began walking away from you. 

~

“Carol?!” You called as you walked into the common room, “Carol! Where are you?” 

“Can you stop yelling,” a gruff voice pleaded from the couch. “She’s not here.” 

“Do you know where she is?” you asked, “Buck, I need to find her.”

“I think she went to a bar,” Bucky said with a sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to continue napping. 

“Thanks!” You said, running towards your room to change your clothes. 

~

You had gotten FRIDAY to disclose which bar Carol was at, and sped through New York traffic on your bike, getting there in record time. 

As you walked in, your eyes scanned the room looking for her. You walked over to the bar to ask the bartender if they’d seen her, and they pointed to the far side of the room. You looked her over, noticing how she was leaning up against the wall, talking to some gorgeous woman. It reminded you of the last time you slept together, how sexy she looked leaning up against her desk. 

The song changed to Loving Someone by the 1975, bringing you back into the present. You watched her for a moment longer, gathering your courage when she looked past the woman in front of her and locked eyes with you. A smile tugged at her lips giving you the courage you needed to close the distance. You saw her say something to the woman who waved her off before she met you halfway. 

You both stopped in the middle of the bar and she looked to you expectantly.

“You were right,” you admitted. “I made that stupid rule to try to protect my heart and I think I honestly caused it to break too many times.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

You let out a sigh, “Aaaand I like you and that scares me,” you admitted.

Carol smiled, “Well, then can I buy you a drink?” 

You shook your head, pulling the keys out of your pocket, “I’m good. You wanna go for a ride?” 

Carol’s smile stretched further over her lips and she nodded, so you took her hand and walked out of the bar.