#idk sorry to put this word vomit on your dash. but every time something like this happens i think about cory and how losing him changed me

[bisexualrapline]

i vividly remember the very first celebrity whose passing hit me like a truck. it was cory monteith, i was a teenager, and i was not myself for weeks, probably months. my parents did not understand and kept asking why i was so full of grief for someone i didn’t know. i couldn’t articulate it as a teenager, but i think it was the finality of it. of knowing that i would never get to see him again and that he wouldn’t get to live out the rest of his youth. thinking about cory still brings tears to my eyes today. grief doesn’t ever entirely go away, it doesn’t come conditionally, it doesn’t have rules or reason. don’t ever let anyone tell you that you cannot grieve the loss of someone you didn’t know personally. you have a right to grieve and mourn in any way that most speaks to your heart as long as you’re not harming anyone else in the process.

[peach-the-owl]

I think you not going to like this,74 and 87. But hear me out. child cries realize that it old group of the child after seeing the remain of child's old group. saying child fault after leaving the old group behind. But for Nein, they tell child the old group give their life to let child live. A burial for old child group, telling old group real goal, is see child a better future with new family they found. Yeah my English not good, but hope you like this. Try Destiny 2 Journey vocal 2 for this

It is done! So, I think I get idea, but I also decided to add in some creative liberties of my own, so to speak, because it’s the spooky season and who doesn’t love trauma! May have overdone it a little, idk but it was a fun ride. I hope it was worth the wait 😁

WARNING: This is gonna get a little graphic

Carry On

Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

74- Why are you crying? 87- It's my fault this happened.

You met the Mighty Nein several months ago when you were but a lone wanderer, concerned for a lost child they took you in hoping to help find your family. You told them that while you were traveling your family had been attacked by a strange looking group of gnolls, at least that’s what you could remember anyways. As you journeyed along you recognized the route you were taking, this was the same road you’d last saw your family and an eerie sense of being watched crept into you.

"We should be careful around here." You say huddling closer to Jester in the cart, she puts an arm around you and gives you a kind smile.

"Hey don’t worry about it, we’re always super careful." You wanted to believe her, but you’ve been with them long enough to know that wasn’t always true. The sound of rustling foliage catches everyone’s attention as these creatures that looked like gnolls jumped out and attacked.

It was like déjà vu, the long track down the road, assurance that things would be just fine, the rustling leaves that lead to an ambush it was exactly like what happened last time. Everyone sprang into action, while you were left in the cart trying to calm yourself, you look over and notice one of these gnolls was staring at you like it knew you somehow. You duck away from view and grab your weapon to defend yourself, the cart shakes as the gnoll jumps onto it and lets loose a cackle, something sounded off from the usual laughs gnolls normally made though. Even stranger is that it doesn’t attack you right away either, instead it grabs ahold of you before you can take a swing at it and covers your mouth to stop you from calling for help, it then proceedes to carry you deeper into the forested area. You can hear the shouts and sounds of battle grow fainter the farther in you go, you struggle and manage to wriggle free of this things grip and book it in the direction you could only assume you came from. Not looking where you’re going you trip on a tree root jutting out of the ground and stumble into a clearing, the area smelled rancid and upon looking around you could tell why. Bodies littered the area some more decayed then others, all of them twisted and mangled into strange positions, you could feel bile raising to your throat and had to physically stop yourself from vomiting.

"Isn’t it a beautiful sight? Such wonderful art." That voice, you knew that voice. Turning your head you see the "gnoll" remove its headpiece revealing a man underneath.

"Mr. Roland? You did this?" It was shocking, horrifying even to think that someone your family had once trusted would do something like this.

"Now don’t fret child, instead why not marvel at my latest masterpiece." He gestures towards something, you fearfully look over eyes widening and body trembling at the sight. Bloody bodies twisted beyond their limits with bones jutting out every which way, dried organs draped around arms and legs like they were fancy decorations, some of their faces were pinned up to look like they were smiling while others still held looks of agony. These people, this "masterpiece" was your family or what remained of them anyways.

"We… we trusted you." The words came out so fast and shaky making you wonder if you even spoke them at all.

"And it was a wonderful choice, just look at how amazing they turned out, in fact I should be thanking you." You give him a confused look. "You see if it wasn’t for your family doing everything they could to help make your escape I wouldn’t have this masterpiece at all. Perhaps I should let you flee again, after all you’ve brought me more people to work with and what a colourful bunch they are too." Your breathing hitched, this was because of you? They were like this because of you, and now the Nein were next… all because of you. Tears streamed down your face, vision blurring as the weight of the situation pressed down on you.

"Oh dear child, why are you crying?" He sounded as though he was mocking you now and as much as you wanted to look away or run you find your body having become unresponsive to your thoughts. When he speaks again his voice sounds as though it’s circling around you from all directions. "Could it be you feel left out? Well if that’s the case… I’ll be happy to have you join them!" You were too distracted to focus on his words or hear the loud thud along with a grunt of pain from behind you.

"Come on kid we gotta go!" Whoever was talking now you couldn't place their voice, still stuck on the horrific imagery that was now burned into your brain, it wasn’t until you felt hands on your shoulders did you finally react with a flinch. The sight of crimson eyes and lavender skin help readjust your focus. "Hey, hey, hey! Look at me kid, there’s no time for that we gotta go, now!" Legs shaking you slowly get up, only to stumble when you try to walk. With a swift motion Molly picks you up and dashes away from the clearing, your breathing was heavy and your head still felt a little hazy after what you just saw but you were still able to focus enough to see Roland give chase after you, a large slash wound across his chest and abdomen. Even with the nasty wound he still managed to gain on you, panic filling every part of your body the closer he got.

"B-be-behind you!" You managed to give a warning and with another swift motion your placed on the ground, hearing the sound of metal clashing before turning to see Molly blocking Roland's attack. You were able to see the road from where you stood but still found it hard to get your body to do what you wanted, feeling as though you frozen in place, so you did the only natural thing left that you could do…

You screamed.

Curling yourself into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears you let out an ear piercing shriek, soon gentle arms pick you up making you once again flinch on reaction but the calming voice that follows eases your worries a bit.

"It’s alright (y/n), you’re going to be okay." Fjord brings you out of the tree line and sets you down into the cart. "Wait here, I’ll be right back." You reach for him as he disappears back into the forest, slowly you lower your arms once again curling up into a ball for any sort of self-comfort, letting tears cascade down your face as the situation fully sinks in.

"It’s my fault this happened. They all died because of me, now I’m gonna lose two families." You sob to yourself thinking only of the worst outcome, so wrapped up in your own world you weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a minute, maybe an hour you didn’t know anymore. The feeling of something soft and fluffy nudging against you pulls you from those negative thoughts, slowly uncurling yourself to see Frumpkin butting his head against your hand asking for attention. You place the cat onto your lap brushing your hands through his soft fur, looking around your eyes land on Caleb standing a few feet from the cart giving you a empathetic look, had he heard you? It’s not long after the rest of the group emerges from the forest, some of them looking more roughed up then others, most notable being Yasha and Beau.

"So anyone know about that creepy ass clearing?" Beau blurts out, getting a few glares from the party as she realizes her slip of the tongue. "Umm… sorry, the question still stands though."

"M-mr. Roland called it his art." You say it quietly, but still loud enough for them to hear.

"Who’s Mr. Roland?" Jester questions, with a curious tilt of her head. You explain to everyone how he was supposedly a friend to your family, helping with jobs and looking after you and your siblings when your parents couldn’t, and finally how when your family had been attacked several months ago you had thought he was aiding you in the fight.

"No one survived, except for me… they all died because of me." You hug Frumpkin closer to you as fresh tears streamed down your face.

"That’s not true-"

"How do you know!" You shout at Fjord, cutting him off and immediately feeling guilty for doing so, you still continue but softer. "He said it himself that they all died while I was running away."

"They died because you ran away or to help you run away?" You snivel as you think about it again, but it was still hard to focus on your own thoughts. There was, however, one thing on your mind that kept taking priority over all else you just weren’t sure if they’d all agree, better to ask now then never though.

"Can-can I ask you all to do something for me? It’s ok if you don’t wanna, but I was wondering if we could maybe… go back and give them a funeral, or something." As you spoke your words fade to a soft whisper, feeling embarrassed by the request, resorting to hiding your face in the fur of the cat still trapped in your arms. The party talks amongst themselves while you try distracting yourself by playing with Frumpkin's paws.

"Hey." Looking up you see Veth in front of you offering her hand for you to take, so readjusting Frumpkin you take it as she leads you off the cart again and back towards the tree line. While your walking she keeps her hand firmly in yours. "I know this must hard for you, are you really sure you want to go back and see the… aftermath?" Was it not for the situation you’d find it almost funny how despite being about the same height she still acts very motherly to you, or maybe it wasn’t that funny at all, either way you knew what you wanted to be done.

"I’m sure, I don’t want them to be left here as a crazy mans 'art project' they don’t deserve that and I…" You pause, the words catching in your throat. Veth gives you a few gentle squeezes for reassurance to continue, after a minute you find your words again. "I want say goodbye properly. Is that dumb, does that sound dumb?"

"No no, it’s not dumb at all, in fact that’s very brave of you. Some grownups don’t even have the nerve to say goodbye, so just know I’m proud of you for that." You give her a small but genuine smile. By now you had made it back to the clearing, and with some deep breaths you step into it see the rest of the Nein having already dug some holes in the ground to act as graves. The bodies of your family and other poor victims who fell prey to Roland already being placed in some, Caduceus being the one instructing everyone on the proper procedures. It took a few hours so by the time they finished burying the bodies the sky had turned to dusk.

"Is there anything you’d like to say?" Caduceus asks you softly, as if his words could shatter you if he wasn’t careful. You open your mouth but find it to be a struggle to think of something to say now, having been put on the spot in front of everyone trying to force any sort of sound out to no luck. Your face slowly turns red at the feeling of embarrassment that washes over you.

"I have something to say to them if that is alright with you." Caleb says, looking to you as if to ask permission, you tilt your head a little in confusion but nod. He steps forward and clears his throat. "I may not have known them, but if (y/n) is an example of their kindness and acceptance of others, then I can understand why they would do anything to keep them alive." He turns and gives you a gentle smile, you faintly return it.

"It always hurts to lose someone you love, but if I can learn not to let that chain me down and accept love from others again then you can too." Yasha surprised you with her sweet words but there was something uplifting about them that you couldn’t help but raise your smile at.

"My turn! Ok… may the Traveler bless your souls for sending us this sweet little child to call our own, ummm… that’s all I got." Jester pipes in, bringing a sort of joy to cut down the lingering tension, it almost makes you giggle.

"As a mother, I know I’d happily give my life again to protect Luc knowing that he’s still alive and will carry on my legacy." Veth says, almost reminestantly. It made you slowly realize that maybe your family did the same so you could carry on their legacy too, if that’s the case then you’d accept it.

"I do believe the kid's made things more lively since they joined and I for one wouldn’t want to trade that for the world." Maybe not as heartfelt of a speech as the others, but you honestly expected nothing less from Molly, he even struts over to you and ruffles your hair earning a small laugh from you.

"Wait, are we taking turns? Uhh… it’s been nice having someone to look out for and teach the ways of the world to, it always feels like we have a purpose even when we feel useless." Fjord stumbled over his words a little, not fully expecting everyone to contribute but found his grounding at the end, his and everyone’s words so far having helped raise you spirits more and more.

"Ummm… look I’m not really good at this emotional stuff but I’m glad your here with us." Like Molly, Beau's little speech wasn’t all that heartfelt but her words were genuine and that’s all you could ask for.

"You all did amazing, I’m proud." Caduceus says, he then gently places his hands on the ground and casts Decompose while muttering a prayer of safe passage for the deceased to the Wildmother. The area quickly sprouting various fungus’ and some (favourite flower/s) the clearing becoming a beautiful patch of nature once again from the horror show that it once was. You are then brought into a group hug, a warm feeling of true belonging coming over you.

"I’m really happy I found you." Tears slide down your cheeks, but no longer ones of sorrow, these were tears of joy.

"We’re glad we found you too."

[the-archxr]

Can You Feel the Love Tonight? || S.H.

steve harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin, Steve and Robin have a good dynamic. It’s been that way for a while now. But now that you’re involved, well, let’s just say Dustin doesn’t quite know how to deal with that.

A/N: Okay so I know that the Lion King didn’t come out until ‘94, meaning the song Elton John released didn’t come out until then, however I was heavily inspired by rewatching the original Lion King and just recently watching the new Lion King (which I absolutely loved and cried majorly, by the way). This fic is based off of the version in the (1994 + 2019) movie and that whole dynamic because I’m Stranger Things and Disney trash. I highly recommend listening to either version of the song while reading this or prior cause idk it kind of put me in the romantic, wistful mood. Be prepared (hehe) cause this is some fluffy shit. Also I busted this out in a day, so here you are, babes x

Warnings: flustered Steve?? Jealous Dustin?? That’s pretty much it though

Song Inspo: Can You Feel the Love Tonight (The Lion King Soundtrack and Elton John)

•••••

“Unbelievable.” Dustin scoffs. “Un-fucking-believable!”

“Hey language, shitbird!” Robin scorns him from the driver’s seat.

“Sorry—I’m sorry, just...” The boy adjusts himself as best as possible to peer even more over the dash of Robin’s car. “Can you believe this?”

Dustin’s voice goes up a few octaves as he turns a crazed eye to his friend. Robin simply stares back at him with a rather disinterested expression.

It isn’t until Dustin let’s out another scoff and overly dramatic roll of his eyes that they stop staring at each other. But then again, Robin knew he wouldn’t be able to resist staring at their two friends in the restaurant for long.

Robin takes note of Dustin’s face, and she can’t help but shake her head in amusement. It was a nice evening, families and couples were walking around or into the diner that they were parked only a stones throw away from. Outside of her car, the atmosphere was gentle and calm, but inside the car, it was intense, humourous (on her side) and frustrating.

The stark difference in environments only added to Dustin’s annoyance and tension that she was sure would boil over soon like heated milk.

Dustin yanks the binoculars off of his neck and raises them in front of his eyes as he fiddles around with the eye pieces. “I mean...she literally just got back!” She literally just got back and now her and Steve are having fun. Without him.

She doesn’t even know him that well.

“Yeah, like a week ago.” Robin intervenes.

“Still!”

Robin looks over at her friend and rolls her eyes, beginning to play with the stereo in an attempt to relieve herself of boredom. “Why can’t we just go home, kid? I mean, they’re not hurting anyone.”

“Yes, they are!” Dustin had enunciated every syllable in pursuit of communicating to his friend that this whole situation, ultimately, was a mistake. “Robin, she’s literally ruining our entire dynamic!”

Robin leans back into the squeaky old seat even more, turning her gaze to the tacky carpeted roof of her tacky car. “She’s your sister, dude. Take a chill pill... I mean, aren’t you happy she’s back?” Robin finally turns to her comrade, still lying back however to broadcast to the kid that she was tired and didn’t care about the date occurring before them.

Dustin sighs and places his two fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Of course I am, Robin but like—seriously?!”

Robin notes that the almost-teenagers attention span runs shorter than that of a goldfish. But she humours him anyway and turns to what Dustin continues to be spastic about.

Dustin makes the scene before them out to be like a traumatic, vomit-inducing nightmare. If anything, however, the scene before the pair is actually kind of nice. Romantic, even.

And even with Robin pointing that out to him, Dustin continues to determine the display of affections as traumatic and vomit-inducing.

When Y/N came home from New York last week, the first thing Dustin did was take her to the video store where he wanted to join up his three favourite people in friendship. Because that’s as far as it was supposed to go.

He wanted Y/N to be friends with Robin and Steve, but not to be super close. Afterall, they were his friends. The three of them were a trio long before Y/N even mentioned coming home. The state of elite hierarchy among their group of friends was supposed to always be there with them. Not her.

It was Steve, Robin and himself that hung out on Friday nights and watched cheesy horror films. It was the three of them that went out for milkshakes. It was the three of them that went to the arcade.

But ever since he excitedly introduced his sister to Steve it was all of a sudden Y/N this and Steve that. Steve would always ask about Y/N, and Y/N would always ask about Steve. And, to top it all off, they even used the same tactic of hiding their rampant questions with the idea of it being meaningless curiosity.

They’re both idiots. But they’re idiots that should’ve always stayed fifty feet apart. 

At first, the consistent inquiries were found to be harmless by Dustin. Yes, they were a little annoying. But harmless.

Everything was perfectly fine.

Until yesterday, when Steve Harrington (Dustin’s supposedly loyal mentor, advisor and comrade) asked his sister—Y/N Henderson out to dinner right in front of Dustin’s face.

To say Dustin was furious would be an understatement.

So, Dustin Henderson felt he had to do what he does best. Investigate. (With the intent of destroying.)

Thus, the situation Robin and Dustin are currently in.

Robin ultimately tried to decide against being there. Afterall, the dingus had actually gotten a point on the “you rule” side; and even though Steve’s flirting hasn’t improved, Y/N and him do seem to really like each other. For once, Steve “the Hair” Harrington wasn’t being an idiot. And (even though she’d never admit it) she was actually excited for both of them.

But Dustin wasn’t.

Dustin wasn’t at all.

Although Robin had desperately tried to convince her child friend not to do anything to compromise Steve and Y/N’s situation and to let the two have their space, Dustin still showed up on her doorstep with binoculars and a backpack muttering something along the lines of spycraft.

After mauling through her thoughts for a few moments Robin perked up. “Dustin,” she began.

The boy let the binoculars he had been gripping so tightly fall aimlessly against his chest. And although Dustin’s head was turned to Robin’s in complete annoyance, he was still listening.

For the first time that evening Dustin was actually paying attention to her, so Robin knew she had to make this quick. Thankfully though, Robin decided to actually refer to the boy by his name and not some random thing she came up with on the spot that may or may not have been mildly insulting. Rarely did she use his actual name, so when she did he knew he had to listen because she was being serious.

“I want to know, and you have to be completely honest with me...” He doesn’t nod, but he raises his eyebrows, which is enough of a response for her. Robin readjusts herself in the seat (although there isn’t much room to do that). “Why are you so against...that?” Robin waves her hand in front of her, signaling to the two smiling people tucked away in a corner booth.

Dustin pauses, and, for a moment feels as though he’s about to break. As he takes a glimpse at the setting sun and the soft glow exuding from the diners large windows—the windows that delicately outline the countless people who are smiling and genuinely having fun—Dustin does feel the slightest inkling of guilt about his position. But more importantly, he feels out of place. He feels a bit embarrassed and he knows that—

No!

That’s not why he’s here.

He’s here because they shouldn’t be here.

With a quick moment of rememberance for his previous intentions and the point of this operation Dustin ignores Robin’s statement and picks up the binoculars, zooming in on his target.

However his mind can’t help but register what Robin had said, and oddly he feels offended. Disasters in the air and Dustin wonders as to how Robin can’t possibly comprehend that.

She’s supposed to be on his side. Not theirs.

The binoculars he had picked up only a moment ago were once again let go of so he could start making wild gestures at Robin. “How can you not be against it?!”

“It’s sweet—“

“It’s bullshit.” Dustin’s body is now slightly leaning over the centre console as he stares Robin dead in her eyes. “Can’t you see what’s happening, Robin?”

Robin (being the literal smartass she is) responds. “Yeah, it’s two people who are attracted to each other enjoying a nice dinner.”

Dustin groans and roughly drags his hand down his face. He then slaps his hand on the dashboard. “Yeah, but guess what?! One date leads to two dates. Two dates leads to three. And eventually the more dates they have the more official they will become. Then they’ll start calling each honey and sweetie, and then they’ll move in together and then they’re gonna’ get married and have a shit ton of babies and I’ll be alone.”

Robin’s eyes widen at the knowledge of the boys confession. However, she isn’t sure he fully realizes what he confessed to because Dustin continues with his animated rant.

He feels the tone of his voice go down respectively, but not so much so that it disregards his conclusion. “The bottom line, Robin, is that they’ll fall in love, and our trio is down to two. Dos, Robin. Dos people. You. And me.” He jabs at the air between them. “And all of this bullshit will happen while Steven over there swaps spit with my sister.”

Robin laughs heartily at the words that leave Dustin’s mouth.

He turns to her in shock, mouth slightly open, and eyes squinted. He feels his baseball cap ever so slightly shifting lower on his head but quite frankly he doesn’t care about that at the moment.

“You think this is funny.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but it is just as aggressive with the same amount of frustration laced within the inflection of his voice.

Robin cackles and leans backward in her seat. Her seat squeaks again, therefore making Robin laugh even harder. The whole situation—she finds—is just too trippy and she knows it probably looks absolutely ridiculous.

Dustin shakes his head and crosses his arms in exasperation. He doesn’t understand why Robin is dying of laughter when there is a very prevalent and extreme issue at hand.

He snaps his head forward, his jaw and arms tightening in unison. His gaze travels up to the rear view mirror and he pauses...

Only for a moment though because he’s take a proper look at himself and he even admits he looks kind of funny. What with the huge pout gracing his mouth, his curly hair falling in his face and his arms crossed over his body so tight he just might cut off circulation.

But he won’t let anything distract him now. Not when—

“Shit!” He hurls up out of his seat and bangs his head on the roof of the car. His hand goes to the top of his head quickly, but it immediately retreats because oh my god, that cannot he happening!

“Hey, hey, watch the car!” Robin yells jokingly. She’s stopped giggling but she can feel the tight pressure in her cheeks and stomach from laughing. Robin lolls her head back, attempting to alleviate her giggly nature and get back on track.

Except she’s so focused on calming herself down that she doesn’t even notice that Dustin has opened the car door and has started walking towards the restaurant.

But when she does see him stomping in front of her car, his fists clenched, with the image of Y/N and Steve laughing, splitting a milkshake like the two cliche idiots they are, she lunges out of her seat, slams the door shut and runs after the fourteen year old.

He certainly walks fast, but she’s faster and thank god she is, because Dustin’s fingers are already wrapped around the silver handle.

Robin yanks Dustin by the collar of his vest and pulls him to the side, away from Steve and Y/N’s line of sight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dustin whispers angrily.

“Saving your ass!” She whispers back. She inhales deeply and smiles awkwardly at an older man that walked by them, eyeing the two strangely. She turned her attention back to Dustin, a softer look on her face. “Leave them be, Henderson.”

“No! I can’t let them—they can’t...” He runs out of breath and stops short when he sees himself in the glass window.

His reflection obstructs his perception of himself for a moment. And soon he’s actually studying himself. But...more importantly, he can see Steve and Y/N more clearly now. The two of them are in the furthest corner—the quietest and most reclusive part of the diner. He watches them sadly.

And then Steve’s arms are flailing everywhere. He’s telling Y/N a story; a funny one at that because she’s laughing hysterically. Dustin recognizes the way his sister tries to hide her loud cackles. She looks...happy. Genuinely happy. And so does Steve. And Dustin can’t help but see how good they look together.

His smile is faint until he looks at his reflection once again.

He looks like shit. There’s bags under his eyes; and as light as they were, they’re still there. He notices how tense and restrictive his body looks, provoking him to try and loosen up.

It’s hard.

But it isn’t even his fault.

It’s Steve Harrington and Y/N Henderson’s fault.

“It’s their fault!” He yells out loud suddenly. He feels defensive. He’s upset. Not even mad, just simply...upset. And he’s taking it out on Robin. Wow. What kind of friend is he? “It’s their fault because they just had to...you know...they just had to!”

“Had to what, Henderson?” Robin asks calmly.

She frowns slightly because her friend is clearly troubled by the notion of being left alone by not only his best friend and mentor, but by his sister too. She’s moved a little closer to him by now; her hand only gracing his forearm. She’s not used to showing sympathy (she’s never really been in a situation where she had to) so she hopes that this is enough.

“They had to go and—and...give in to that—that dumb sexual electricity bullshit.”

Robin sighs and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears. The two of them are standing there completely still. The initial anger and frustration has died down and Robin can no longer feel the tension radiate off of her child friend. With a shaky huff he shies away from her hand and slumps against the side of the brick building, jaggedly sliding down to the ground.

“It’s just...everything’s...changing. Everything’s changing and this is just the universe trying to prove it to me.” Dustin wipes at the sudden wet streaks that line his cheeks. He didn’t even notice that he began crying, but it’s too late to hide it from Robin because she’s already sitting beside him, giving him her most sympathetic look manageable.

“Hey...” She nudges his foot with hers. “It sucks...I know. I felt the same way when I was your age, you know? Everything just changes around you, and it sucks ‘cause you can’t control it at all. You can’t slow it down or speed it up. It just...happens.”

She places her hand on Dustin’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “But it gets better in the end.” He nods slowly and softly. “Look dingus, Steve, Y/N, you and I are still gonna’ be the best of friends. We just...won’t be the three musketeers.” She looks at Dustin and the stains on his cheeks.

“Hey, you know what? We’ll be something even cooler! You can decide what our group name is, yeah?” She punches him softly in the arm.

Dustin sniffles but attempts a smile. “We’re still a team, Dustin... There just happens to be a new person. The groups larger now and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Even if you don’t like it now, train yourself to, because Harrington, he’s—he’s a good guy you know, and he really likes your sister. A lot. And I hate to be the one to break it to you kid, and I know it’s hard for you to understand, but...whatever’s goin’ on in there...” Robin tilts her head towards the door. “That’s not our decision. That’s theirs.”

Dustin smiles weakly. The two sit in silence for a few seconds. Then Dustin wipes at his nose, and sniffs. He takes a deep breath. “At least...it’s not...the worst decision.” Robin smiles with a slight shake of her head.

“See? Just look on the bright side of things.”

“She likes him a lot, too, you know. I read it in her diary. She thinks he has a cute butt and nice hair.” Robin laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

The pair stand up and Robin guides them back to her car. “What do you say we go for ice cream, yeah? Kinda’ cool down. Relax a little.”

“Yeah, that—that sounds like a good idea.”

•••••

It was a beautiful night. The breeze that carried itself through Hawkins wasn’t too warm but wasn’t too cold either. The sun was in the midst of setting; the sky in transition between indigo and pale pink.

The sounds of crickets were melodic and delicate, and for once in your life they didn’t seem annoying. The lightning bugs that usually stay pretty dormant along in the bushes on the backroads were out in full force tonight; shining in all of their tiny glory.

The music from Steve’s stereo was soft. Loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to set a mood.

You felt like a child; giddy and weightless.

For some odd, inexplicable reason, the world tonight just seemed to work. You couldn’t tell if it was just sheer dumb luck, or if it was because what was happening between you and the boy next to you was meant to happen. Regardless of whatever higher power was working tonight, something out there seemed to understand. The universe around you seemed to understand.

The evening was peaceful, the atmosphere in Steve’s car was romantic and you’re positive that with all of this serenity, the world, and all of its living things couldn’t help but be in perfect harmony.

Bryan Adams voice gently moved in the space of Steve’s car. You could hear Steve begin to sing along and you felt your heart gently convulse with the butterflies in your stomach.

You look at him through the corner of your eye and you swear he isn’t real.

Honestly, how could someone who looks like that and is like that exist?

His soft brown eyes are focused on the road and you’re reminded of the fact that those eyes were staring at you all night. Steve is just so...beautiful. It’s simply unreal.

Your smiling like an idiot as you study him. You can feel it. You feel just as light and soft as the way his hair looks as it sways in the wind.

“Someone’s smiley.” Steve commented. You’re eyes widen as you snap back to reality. Your face grows hot. Your heartrate increases. Steve just caught you staring at him like a creep and you realize you couldn’t be anymore pathetic. But the second you see the curl of his lips and his eyes begin to smile at you, every negative thought you’ve had about whether or not you looked good enough tonight dissipated.

He’s an ethereal creature. And he’s looking at you the same way. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky and you can’t think of anything else other than just kissing him. The only thing your body seems to know what to do though is smile.

But thats fine because Steve opens his mouth to speak, and you can feel yourself get lost in the tender tone of his words. “It’s okay, you know. I—I don’t mind.”

You laugh softly and make a measly attempt to cover your deepening blush with the sleeve of your sweater.

You somehow force yourself to look away and try to compose what little resolve you have left. But you’re still smiling.

And Steve from across the car is still smiling as well.

As you watch the brush fly past you, an unfamiliar warmth graces your fingertips that rest on the console.

Your head turns rather quickly to see what has just touched you and you come face-to-face with Steve’s red cheeks as his hand rests millimeters away from yours. “Can I—um...am—am I...allowed to, uh, h—hold your hand? Maybe?” Steve’s looking at you softly. You can’t function, so you don’t automatically respond. He turns to look at the dark road before him. The only place his eyes can be truly safe without giving all of his secrets away. “If you don’t want to that’s fine. That’s—that’s completely...fine. I—I don’t want to pressu—”

“Steve...” you whisper. You’re shocked that you can even speak because it honestly feels like you’re permanently breathless. You look directly in his eyes and relax your hand as your fingertips glide gently over his knuckles.

You feel his hand begin to shake slightly which calms down your nerves because he’s just as scared as you are.

There’s a reassuring feeling that sets itself within the cavity in your chest as your fingers intertwine with his. It’s a slow act; one that you both don’t want to jump into directly in fear of screwing it up. But in the end it works and it just feels so right and so magical.

You swear you have never felt this way in your entire life.

Steve’s hand feels exactly how you had imagined it countless times in the past couple of days.

Soft; pure; and breathtaking.

He feels the same way.

•••••

Steve pulls up in your driveway slowly. He doesn’t have to, but the closer to your house he gets, the closer you are to leaving and he’s not sure he’s prepared for that all.

The porch light is on and so is the living room light; confirming that Dustin has not yet went to bed.

Shit.

You frown as you suddenly try to figure out how you’re going to talk to him and what you’ll say. You knew he wasn’t too happy with the prospect of the date between you and Steve—he made that evidently clear. And you’d never admit it to him but it really hurt you a lot to know that you were hurting him. You thought he’d be overjoyed with the news but instead he became distant and moody.

But Steve had assured you that he’d talk to Dustin and the three of you would work it out. And from what you’ve seen of the close friendship between Dustin and Steve you knew if anyone could get through to your little brother, it was your date.

Steve opened the door for you and closed it once you got out.

You smoothed out your sweater (although there was nothing wrong with it) and you let your arms hang awkwardly at your sides. Whereas Steve shoved his one hand into the pocket of his jacket, and with the other one he hesitantly reached towards your hand that dangled outside of the sleeve of the thin white fabric. 

He was nervous... Really fucking nervous.

But the way you easily accepted the embrace of his fingers made Steve feel as though he might pass out.

His heart felt like it was going to explode, and the fact that he damned himself by looking over to you smiling in the faint light emanating from the window...

God. He was an idiot. But...the thought that you might want him just as bad as he wants you; and that maybe one day, he gets to be your idiot made him weak in the knees.

Something he never thought could happen.

You looked even softer and prettier than you did earlier in the evening; which pained Steve because first of all, how could someone become increasingly more beautiful the more he looked at them; and how could he restrain himself from just holding your face and kissing you until the both of you could no longer breath?

“Well, this is me.” You say out loud, and curse yourself afterward because god, you sound so stupid.

“This is you.” Steve replies, sounding equally as stupid.

But, regardless of whether or not the both of you can talk doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re smiling at him with a sense of warmth and what he hopes is adoration. The realization that yes, for once he isn’t a screw up and he is finally going to get the girl causes him to shuffle closer to you.

The tips of your shoes are touching his and the butterflies begin erupting again because the act itself is small, yet whole-heartedly adorable.

Steve then takes his other hand and links it with yours. You try to hide the way your body is reacting to Steve holding both of your hands so intimately; but it’s proving itself to become increasingly more difficult when suddenly the two of you are inches away from each other. His warm breath fans over your face and you notice that all you have to do is just move your head forward a little more before you’re actually kissing him.

“I had a really good time tonight, Stevie.” He chuckles lightly at the use of his new nickname.

Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded stupid, but since it’s coming from you, Steve feels as though he’s floating.

It isn’t a special nickname, but it feels similar to one because now it rests within him as a placeholder. You said it, and only you can say it from this moment on.

The feeling that he gets when you say, “Stevie” ignites a livid presence of emotion deep in his psyche.

“Me too.”

He’s falling. Hard.

And it’s becoming really fucking challenging because you are looking very beautiful. And you’re smiling at him. All wistful and delicate.

The lip gloss you had on refracts the light beside you lightly, enough to make your lips (the part of you that he’d been staring at for pretty much the entire night now) shine and stand out to him.

Oh, yeah.

He’s definitely falling.

“Are you two just going to stand there, or are you gonna’ get in the house already?” Dustin is standing in the open doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

He seems annoyed, which brings down your spirits a little.

Steve is attentive and picks up on your sadness. He frowns slightly, but tries to disguise it because he doesn’t want to make you anymore upset. Although the boy really, really wants to kiss you goodnight, he respects you and Dustin. He decides against it. For now, at least.

You let go of Steve’s hands, still smiling softly at him as you slowly step through the threshold of your house. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“‘Night, Y/N.” He replies with a soft grin.

You walk out of his line of sight, but you don’t leave. Instead, you quickly bound over to your couch, claw your way to the window and peel the edge of the white lace curtain away from the glass that you’re choosing to peek through. You stare at the boy who looks so gorgeous in the soft early moonlight that you swoon three times over.

The door closes, and you see Dustin (surprisingly) walking Steve to his car.

You watch the situation closely. It is as unintentionally comedic to you as it is nerve-wracking.

“Did you have fun?” Dustin asks Steve. Dustin is admittedly shocked when Steve looks him directly in the eye. Before the date, when Steve picked Y/N up, the poor boy wasn’t even able to meet Dustin’s gaze.

The date however went better than expected, and now that Steve knows he wants you (and he’s positive you want him back), he’s got all the confidence in the world prompting him to be willing to do anything. Steve smiles at his younger friend gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really did, Henderson.” Steve nods.

Dustin leans against the hood of the familiar BMW beside his best friend. He looks up at the older boy, the boy he had been looking up to for a good year now and he can see that Steve’s smiling more than he’s smiled in awhile.

A fragile breeze rolls by the two of them. The sun has officially gone down, making the ambient light around the two friends a pale gray and blue. Dustin can hear the recognizable cicadas humming all around. The empty night makes their sound even louder and more prominent, slightly knocking off the awkward edge between him and Steve.

Steve stirs making Dustin turn to him. He runs a hand quickly through his hair (a habit Dustin has noticed occurs a lot). Somehow, Steve’s dark hair bounces back in its original place without any effort at all.

“My sisters one hell of a girl, Harrington.” Dustin speaks up. Steve slightly moves his head to the side; enough so that he can see the knowing stare that his younger friend has painted on his face.

Steve nods shyly. “She definitely is.” Just mentioning you forces a smile on Steve’s features. He truly cannot control himself when around you.

And Dustin picks up on this. Steve’s really trying. You’re really trying. And maybe (Dustin figures) he can be a bit more lenient with the two of you.

The nights really doing something to him.

There are a few quiet moments that stretch by between the two boys. It isn’t awkward anymore, but it is filled with Dustin’s excessive pondering thoughts. His heads so full of them he feels like screaming in defeat into the quiet, dark night.

“Do you like her?”

Steve looks down at him. He’s not sure if Dustin stopped eyeing him up and down at one point; but this time around his friends face is softer. There’s something there, something hopeful. Something Steve hopes is forgiveness and acceptance.

“I really do.” Steve admits shyly.

He already knew that. Of course he knew Steve liked you. He made it blatantly obvious since day one.

Dustin sits comfortably in his own silence for a moment. Steve sits uncomfortably on the edge of anticipation and worry. There’s nothing silent about Steve’s thoughts at all.

“Well then...” Dustin begins. “The next time you see each other you better kiss her, alright?”

Dustin watches Steve cough and his eyes widen comically. He knows Steve is in complete shock, but Dustin soon grins, evoking a smile from his older friend.

“Just not in front of me though, alright? Or else I’ll kick your ass, Harrington.”

For once Steve’s mind is silent...

Until he mutters one word that carries itself with the wind. “Okay.”

Dustin nods once and reaches his hand out.

Steve smiles widely. He knows exactly what that means; it’s a sign of peace and a sign of approval.

Steve wraps his hand around Dustin’s and he quickly lets go signaling for the young boy to follow through with their infamous handshake. The two boys finish with partially silent lightsaber sounds that quickly escalate into booming, hearty laughter. Laughter so loud, even the night before them wasn’t ready for it.

“I still want you to pick me up tomorrow so we can go to the arcade.” Dustin jabs a finger at Steve teasingly. He pokes Steve in the centre of his chest causing the fluffy haired boy to swat away his finger. “Ten o’clock. Sharp. Better be on time, loverboy.”

“Yeah, yeah; I will... Thank you.” Steve finishes sincerely.

Dustin nods stoically, then turns to the window and sees your silhouette. You’re smiling at the two of them through the glass; the orange light behind forging a halo around your head. He suddenly grins and laughs gently.

Out of nowhere, Dustin’s arms wrap around Steve’s middle, and the older teen can’t help but hug him back with as much force.

He’s so goddamn happy.

As you watched the headlights of the familiar BMW drift off into the road, slowly bleeding and disappearing into the blue and gray hues of the forest and streets around your house, Dustin enters the house with a smile.

You turn to him expectantly. Your eyebrows are quirked up and your soft pink lip is tucked slightly beneath your teeth.

Dustin shakes his head with a soft sigh. “You two are gonna’ be the death of me, you know that right?”

Watching your face turn up into the biggest grin makes him smile equally as wide. He walks over to you quickly as you stand up and you tuck his head beneath yours.

You embrace your little brother tightly and earnestly. You place a delicate kiss to the top of the mess of curls on his head and he hugs you with even more strength.

Even with all of the nights uncertainties, somehow the world and all its living things, for once, truly did come together in perfect harmony.

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Bucket List or “Oh my Dear Lord”

Matt Murdock x Female Reader 

Request: AH I SAW U WERE TAKING REQUESTS FOR MY BOI MATT AND I HAD TO DO ONE! so what about “Well, looks like I can scratch that from my bucket list” - “Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” and like he’s the (female)reader’s defense attorney but they already know each other? idk lol but tysm in advance, i hope this helps your writers block

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for your request, sweetheart! Here’s some Matt Murdock for you, involving some blood and sexual tension 😈  I’m so very sorry it took me forever. I got a bit carried away there, but I hope this piece lives up to your expectations! Also, look at me, using two prompts from the list, bam bam!  The reader’s family name / surname is given in this story ;)

(May contain mistakes, author’s not a native speaker)

Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!…

The pain was unbearable, striking hard and deep, and everywhere at once. Bitter blasts cut through his bones as he tried to focus on finding the wound. Not with his hands - those would not obey, completely numb and useless. 

It must have been his shoulder, he realised, closing his eyes. He couldn’t keep them shut for long, though - his head was spinning, so much worse than after a dozen shots of that eel booze of Josie’s. 

He opened his eyes and managed to slightly turn his head to the left. The pungent smell of blood left him wincing and swearing under his breath.

It was his goddamn shoulder alright, a jugged piece of glass sticking from right below his collarbone. The ragged tissue around the wound burned, and as seconds passed, the pain amplified, jarring and brutal. Blood oozed down his chest almost lazily, his Daredevil costume soaking it up.

Foggy!… Foggy!…

Matt spit out a curse, feeling the taste of blood on his lips. Excruciating pain shoot through his chest as he tore his phone out of a thigh pocket, hitting the green answer button with his thumb.  

“Now is really not a good time, Foggy,” he huffed, trying to prop himself higher against the cold metal door, leading back inside the building. The sky and the ground changed places as he tried to inhale deeper… He only hoped his lung wasn’t punctured.

“Matt, you need to get to the station. Like right now.”

The panic in Foggy’s voice made Matt’s insides turn clockwise. A lump rose in his throat, urging him to get rid of whatever he ate for dinner earlier. 

“What…?” he forced himself to speak, but only ended up coughing hoarsely, blood rolling over the edge of his lips and dripping down his chin. 

“They’ve got their hands on Woods,” Foggy whispered, dread choking him. “She’s under arrest”. 

Greeting his teeth, Matt growled as he stood up, using his free hand for balance. Unsteady on his feet, still leaning on the door, he gripped that piece of glass and tore it from his body. It fell on the ground with a muffled cry, shattering in pieces. Matt bit down on his lips, keeping the involuntary scream in, hissing in pain. He pressed his free hand to the wound, blood pumping out through his fingers, painting them stark red.

“I’ll get there as fast as I can”, he rasped. “Don’t let her speak with anybody until then. Not a goddamn soul”. 

“Understood,” Foggy swallowed frantically, as if he were drowning. “Please, hurry!…”

Dropping the call, Matt kicked the door with all the force that was left in him, pain and rage sending his heart and brain in the overdrive. The sound of his boot hitting the metal resonated in his head like a bell’s tolling in an empty church. 

…Goddammit, Y/N! He told you to run!

†††

The smell of barbecue chips and cigarette smoke intensified as soon as he stepped into the precinct. Gripping his cane so hard his fingers hurt, Matt made his way down to the reception desk, his stroll a little too quick and confident for a blind guy. He turned a couple of heads on his way, but it came to show that a hard expression of silent, barely contained fury was the best deterrent to stupid questions. 

As soon as he spotted Murdock, Brett sighed and pushed his way towards him through the crowded corridor. 

“Why, dear Lord, why when something happens, you three are always involved?” Brett grumbled, planting himself in Matt’s way. 

Should this have been another time and setting, Matt would probably choke out a muffled laugh; but all he could think of right now was getting to the interrogation room, and seeing with his own eyes that Y/N was unharmed.

“Where is she?” he cut to the chase unceremoniously, cocking his head to a side. 

Brett raised his eyebrows at his tone, but refrained from commenting it. 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he muttered, his hands diving in the pockets of his uniform. “You and Nelson are here so much, you probably know the entire place like the back of your hand by now”, he stepped aside, clearing the way down the corridor. “I told Hoffman he won’t get a word out of Y/N Woodsley’s mouth as long as her usual pair of lawyers is involved”. 

Matt gritted his teeth, but said nothing, hurrying down the dim corridor instead.   

“…Are you insane?!” He had heard the indistinct screaming from outside the station, but only now, up close, it seemed to really speak to the thunderstorm raging inside of his chest. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!…”

“Well I couldn’t just stand there, Foggy, could I? That psycho with a badge has almost put a hole through his head!…”

Anger rang through Y/N’s voice like bullets falling on the ground. Matt could hear her heart beating double time, sensed the faint aroma of her sweat, mixed with blood and the remnants of her neroli perfume. She wasn’t afraid. She was pissed, mad out of her mind, as she slapped her hand against the entrance door, before pressing her forehead against it. 

“Whoever that guy is, he saved Karen’s life!…” she murmured. “I don’t regret shit, and I’d do it all over again”. 

As soon as Matt heard her move sufficiently far from the entrance, he inhaled deeply, the inside of his chest burning up like a fuming volcano. All he wanted to do was scream, but he was pretty sure he’d end up vomiting all over the place because of the escalating pain, hitting his body in waves. 

As soon as he opened the door, the room fell scary silent. Foggy’s rugged, infuriated breathing and a small drop of sweat rolling in between Y/N’s breasts was all he was able to catch, before her quiet voice filled his ears. 

“I swear, Matt, I can explain.”

His lips stretched out into a thin line, he made his way to the chair next to Foggy’s.

“…if I had a dime every time I heard that”, he whispered, disappointment lacing every word. He sank down into the uncomfortable chair, painfully slow and careful. He could hear - more like sense, really - Y/N bit on her bottom lip nervously, and Matt knew her eyes were glowing with guilt. 

While all he could think of was she could have been dead right now, and it would have been all my fault. 

“I was out with Karen and my good friend Jessica - we were at Josie’s to down a couple of beers.. Argh!…” submerged by the need to hide her face, Y/N rubbed her hands on her forehead, leaning down on the table with her elbows. Her nail must have scratched a cut that went from her temple to her eyebrow, a sharp breath escaping her lips. “I was tired and a little pissed at my editor for blacklisting my article on the Russians, and I wasn’t having fun. Felt like peeing on everyone’s parade, so when the clock struck midnight I decided to call it a night”.

She paused, trying to search her best friends’ faces, staring sternly at her. Rolling her eyes at their judging you expressions, she combed her fingers through her hair, pushing those messy strands to a side.

“I took the corner of 51th and 11th, when I heard some commotion at the docks. I marched straight towards Hudson… The alcohol making me fearless, I don’t know… I spotted three police cars outside that whitewashed building at the Piers 92/94, the old industrial glass warehouse, you know?… Everything seemed calm, and I felt stupid just standing there in the middle of the road, so I turned around and stumbled towards the park… But then I heard a window shattering. It was…” 

She paused, swallowing, trying to keep the undertones of awe and excitement in her voice at bay.  The notes that Matt hated with every fiber of his beaten and bruised body. 

“It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. He just jumped through the window on the second floor, landed on his goddamn feet like a cheetah, bullets wheezing all around him, like some kind of a deadly rainstorm… I just…” she stuttered. “I just couldn’t look away.”

“Gooddamn it, Woods…” Foggy groaned, burying his face in his hands in a fit of despair. “Sorry, Matt”, he peaked at Murdock through his fingers.

“Can you imagine the kind of story that could be?” Y/N brushed his exclamation away impatiently. “I was close enough to take photos, I could have caught the Devil in action, it could be all over the news the next day, especially if I pulled all the information I collected on that shady warehouse in these past few weeks!” As Y/N’s confidence grew, Matt’s heart was shrinking into a tiny nubbin. “This could be my chance to prove that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was on our side all along!…”

“What happened next?” Murdock interrupted drily, clutching his fists under the table.

Y/N sighed, her puffed-out chest falling down. She shot a glance at the camera in the right corner of the room.

“It’s okay, Woods, it’s off”, Murdock spoke a little impatiently, sensing her discomfort. “Please, go on”.

Y/N just stared at him in disbelief for a moment, probably thinking something along the lines of well damn, Murdock, for a blind guy you sure are insightful. 

He almost chuckled. If only you knew, princess. 

“Not what, who,” she growled quietly, suppressing her anger, seeping through the pores of her soft skin. “Detective Hoffman happened. He dashed out of the building like the goddamn place was on fire… He stopped by the cars, his gun loaded and ready. He didn’t shoot to stop or injure, he shot to kill, I know what I saw. It was a miracle the Devil actually managed to dodge his goddamn bullets!”

“No kidding,” Foggy snapped, and Matt instantly felt his gaze, burning holes in his head. “And then what? You just thought, hey, I better join the party before they run out of ammunition! Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun!”

“No,” Y/N challenged, the waves of anger she emanated hitting Matt like an avalanche. “I watched for as long as I could, until eight more dirty cops emerged from the building, attacking the Devil like a bunch of hell hounds! I had to do something before they made sure the man could never walk the Earth again! He put up quite a fight there, but when I saw Hoffman thrust a goddamn shard of glass the size of my arm through his chest…”

“Say what?!” Foggy boomed, nothing short of a nuclear bomb. He stared at Matt open-mouthed. “Jesus Christ! But how the fudge…?”

“What Foggy is trying to say here,” Matt cut in, kicking his best friend under the table to shut him up - Nelson gasped at the impact. “Is how the fudge did you think you could help him?… You could have ended up in a body bag, Woods, not in this interrogation room!…”

All-consuming silence settled over the three of them - Foggy was still nursing his leg, while Matt found himself involuntary soaking up the desperation with which Y/N was defending him, the Daredevil, without knowing who he was. He would rather die of glass and bullets than put her in danger, and he hated himself for having had involved her in this. 

And at the same time, sensing her warmth, her resolute desire to make Foggy and him understand that she cared for the Devil, and that they ought to, too, all he wanted to do was to just let go. To stop hating himself because of what he wanted. To absorb her determination, to accept her care, to savour it!… 

Nothing so wrong had ever felt so right, and his thoughts… They were tearing him apart.

“I fired a warning shot at Hoffman,” Y/N murmured, her lips barely moving. “The bullet must have scratched his thigh… Distracted him for long enough, so that the Devil could take the upper hand…”

Matt heard Y/N heartbeat, loud and clear. Nice and slow, it showed that she wasn’t afraid. His own heart, however… Murdock felt it bash against the walls of his ribcage so loud, he was sure both Foggy and Y/N could hear.

“He screamed at me to run, when he saw me… He was furious - not that someone decided to interrupt his little kick-ass session, but because it was me.”

“That’s bull, Woods!” Foggy exclaimed, sounding like a man desperately catching at straws. “Just listen to yourself! How would the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen know who you are?…”

Unblinking, Y/N stared at him for a solid minute, crossing her hands on her chest. Blood thumped in Murdock’s ears, his forehead dotted with crystal beads of sweat - the pain in the shoulder never ceased, and just when he thought he could handle no more, Y/N’s lips slowly parted, releasing, it seemed, his greatest fear. 

“He called me by my name, Foggy.”

As soon as the words filled the air around the three of them, like bonfire smoke, the time seemed to dissolve into itself, shapeless and inconsequential. Matt lost his breath, the realisation brought to light suffocating him.

“He must have recognised you from the Bulletin or something,” Foggy muttered in response to Y/N’s confession, throwing Murdock a lifeline. Matt nodded at him gratefully, his throat tight. “Now, if you ran just like he told you to, why the hell are we here? How did you end up in police custody?…”

Y/N let out a deep sigh, dropping her head in between her hands on the table. 

“They caught up with me on the corner of 12th and 46th”, she said. “And no, before you ask, I didn’t have that gun on me,” watching the question forming itself on Matt’s and Foggy’s faces, she beat them to it. “I… discarded it”. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Matt considered the situation for a moment. Hoffman, or one of his lapdogs must have seen her run; it did not help that he willingly gave them her name, in his outburst of anger and panic. But unless they had tangible proof that she was the one firing that warning shot, they didn’t have jack on her. Even a testimony of an eyewitness would not be enough to prove she was involved in that mess he so carelessly created. 

It was all his goddamn fault!…

“Okay…” Foggy drawled out, thinking out loud. “That means the only thing they have on you…”

“…are words,” Matt finished for him, his head turned in Y/N’s direction. “Possibly an eyewitness, but with that alone they won’t be able to prove anything - the night is dark, and I hear the street lamps at the docks are rotten”. 

Y/N worried her bottom lip with her teeth, listening to him intently. 

“Then why and on what grounds are they detaining me?” she finally asked, sounding like she already knew the answer. 

Foggy and Matt exchanged heavy glances. 

“They can keep you in custody at least for the next 24 hours, and trust me, they are going to try and push the bail option off the table”, Foggy reasoned, his eyes switching between Y/N and Matt. “They think you know who the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is”, he added, his voice barely perceptible.

“Do you?…” Matt urged under his breath without missing a beat, leaning closer to Y/N. A waft of his spicy perfume washed over her, mixed with a salty, metallic odour that she couldn’t quite place. She lost her train of thought for a moment, watching her reflection in his glasses, his eyes hidden behind their usual red armour. When she really thought about it, she could count the times she had basked in their hazel glow on one hand. 

With a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple, Matt swallowed, his face unreadable. 

“Um… hello, Matt, have you met me?” Y/N gave Murdock a sceptical look, her voice dropping a couple of octaves. She threw her hair back, instinctively moving towards him. “I’m a journalist, I don’t keep secrets. My job is to uncover them. Especially ones of this caliber”.

Bittersweet relief rolled over Matthew in a cool wave, spreading from his feet to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t help but chuckle at Y/N’s uncannily fitting choice of words. She was right, of course; revealed, this secret would shoot to kill, far more dangerous than a loaded gun. 

“Here’s what happens next,” Matt interlaced his fingers, joining his hands together on the table. “We’re going to have a word with Hoffman, and then we’re posting bail. Unless they have other ways to track down Daredevil so they can bring him to court, chances are you won’t even have to face the jury.”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered under her breath, absentmindedly feeling for the cut on her forehead with her fingertips. Both Matt and Foggy were already getting on their feet. “At least I can scratch that from my bucket list…”

“Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” Foggy mused, staring at Y/N in disbelief. 

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks lightly with her fingertips. 

“Not getting arrested, Foggy, this isn’t my first rodeo,” she released an impatient breath. “Getting in trouble for helping Daredevil. Now that’s something I’d write down in my journal if I’d had one,” Matt heard her smile, her voice englobing him like a cashmere blanket. “Thank you for taking care of me, you both. You really don’t have to post bail, though…”

Matt’s body grew stiff. He leaned on the table separating them, with his hands biting into the wood. 

“We know for sure that Hoffman’s on Fisk’s payroll, Woods. And he won’t stop at anything - and I mean anything - to make you talk. I could never…” he stuttered, biting on his bottom lip hard, the eyes behind his glasses drilling a hole a couple of inches above Y/N’s head. “We’re posting bail”, he declared assertively. “Fight me.” 

Tense silence surrounded Matt and Y/N, as they just gazed at each other, the air around them buzzing with emotion and intent. Something was happening between the two, something mysterious and possibly life-changing, their bodies speaking in a language only they could understand. Y/N brushed her fingers against her lips - Matt rolled his tongue against the inside of his right cheek - and Foggy suddenly felt wrong trying to decipher whatever they were conjuring up, without as much as a touch. 

Clearing his throat, Foggy motioned towards the door. 

“I’m going to speak to Hoffman and start the paperwork. We should be all out of here in couple of hours, tops”. 

“And then we’re walking you home”, Matt pushed away from the table. Y/N sighed, half-opening her lips, and his entire body seemed to react to the nearly imperceptible sound: his skin shivered and his heart picked up some.

“Okay,” she said, her voice even, still looking at him. “I suppose I owe you this much”. 

†††

The rain was falling thickly as the three of them made their way out of the stuffy police station; the sky was still dark, with an occasional flash of lightening splitting it in two, three, four uneven cobalt blue parts. Crackles of thunder rolled across rooftops to the pattering of hefty raindrops, resonating in Matt’s feverish mind. 

Pain still gnawing at the corners of his mind, he realised he had never done such hard thinking as he did now, falling a bit behind Foggy and Y/N. Something was off, he could sense it. Ever since that tense moment they shared in the interrogation room, Woods had been unusually quiet, compliant and overall so unlike herself, agreeing to do just as Foggy and him told her, without even trying to put up a fight. At first, he thought that maybe she was tired - she, too, had a hell of a night, he had to remind himself. But then he sensed her stare from across the room as he talked to Hoffman - a stare that left his skin burning, his body vibrating under those restless interrogative eyes. 

Both Foggy and Y/N stopped just outside the heavy doors, waiting for him to catch up. Just as Matt stepped outside, he allowed himself a deep breath, despite the pain in his chest. The air seemed charged with electricity, and the humidity pressed down, suffocating him… Y/N’s eyes settled on his face, and he felt her hand wrap around his wrist. Still watching him closely, she interlaced their fingers. Her fingertips danced over his maimed knuckles… His breath hitched. Swallowing hard, Matt slid his hand out of her grip, adjusting the collar of his shirt. 

Good God! Had she figured it out?…

He was a goddamn mess, wasn’t he?

“As much fun as this had been,” Foggy spoke, pretending not to have noticed his best friends’ antics. “I’ve got to go. If I leave now, there might still be a chance for me to enjoy my night of mind-blowing sex and cuddling with Marci”. 

Y/N chuckled at his words. Matt barely raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, don’t let us stop you,” he said, notes of accusation tingling in every sound. 

He heard Foggy let out an exasperated breath, his heart beating faster than normal, and realised he was in this alone. 

Not that Matt could blame him. He was the only one responsible for this mess and it was up to him to deal with the consequences. 

“See you tomorrow, Fog,” Matt added, patting his best friend on a shoulder. Clearing his throat, Foggy gave Y/N and him one last look before darting to the nearest waiting taxi. 

“Stay safe, and vigilant, both of you.”

And just like that, Matt found himself alone with Y/N, in the very situation he dreaded from the minute he dropped Foggy’s call earlier that night. 

“You don’t have to walk me home”, Y/N spoke calmly, stepping out into the rain like this was the last thing that bothered her. “I’m sure you have better things to do”. 

The words felt like a slap, but Matt refused to acknowledge whatever meaning she’d put into them. He followed her into the rain, not batting an eyelid.

“I’m walking you home, Woods,” he sounded serene as he spoke; maybe a little too serene, but it was too late to do anything about it. “Don’t make me break my promise”. 

“Fine,” she shrugged, stretching her hand out to him. Water rolled down her face, soaking her trench, the smell of her neroli perfume intensifying as Matt stepped closer to her. She took him gently by the elbow, leading him down the glowing, wet street. 

The night was silent, save for a siren roaring a couple of blocks ahead. His body stiffened as he first heard its wailing sound; it took a soft squeeze of Y/N’s hand to get his head back in the game. He needed to win. So that his secret identity remained secret, and Woods remained oblivious to his late night shenanigans. 

“How are you holding up?” Matt ventured, mindlessly falling in line with Y/N’s steady pace. He felt her shrug as her hand slid higher up his bicep, creating friction. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore her soft breaths, interrupted by the whispering sound of rain crushing against her damp skin, small drops rolling down the curve of her breasts…

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice smooth and soft, like velvet. “I am more worried about Daredevil, he got hit pretty deep with that shard of glass…”

With his breath hitching, Matt noticed a change in her heart’s rhythm - it slowed down, but it thumped louder now, wilder. 

“I’m… Well, the night is a blur now, you know?… But there’s one detail that bothers me, I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it…”

“What is it?” Matt turned cold with irrational fear, suddenly realising they weren’t walking anymore. 

Wherever they were, this wasn’t Y/N’s block - it just didn’t smell like it. 

Concentrating, Matt caught a whiff of Indian spices through the tantalising veil of the neroli perfume… That neroli perfume, dear Lord, it was driving him insane, pushing his thoughts in all the wrong directions… Smelled like gas, too, there must have been a gas station within a 30-metres radius… And camomile detergent…

And then it hit him - it’s her who walked him home. They stood just beside his building, but why did she…?

Y/N’s hands landed on his shoulders, cutting his flow of thoughts short - she stood facing him now. So achingly close, it felt like there were not much of that buzzing hot air between her soul and his. Before he could remember how to breathe, Y/N’s fingertips caressed his his cheeks, moving smoothly up until she reached the wet cold metal of his glasses, pulling them away from his face. Matt looked steadily at her lips, his eyelashes begging for her touch. 

“The moment I fired that gun,” she whispered, water rolling down her lips and chin. “I swear I saw Daredevil flinch, he dipped his head a little to a side… His deep red mouth moved, and I could swear I saw those lips before…”

Her fingers moved across the skin on her chest, breaking water patterns… Just like she was breaking his will, pushing him to surrender.

Matt groaned barely audibly, his brain electrified. Helpless and intoxicated, with her scent sending him in a heady trance, he let his hands find their home on her waist, his touch gentle, worshipful.

His cane fell on the ground, and neither of them noticed.

“…He turned his head my way and it was like he saw me. And the next thing I know…” 

Matt’s body was hard, pushing against her soft breasts. He didn’t want to leave marks, but he couldn’t let go of her. Rain hit her cheekbones, and the water splashed against his nose and lips. He was losing it. Losing control.

“And the next thing I know, he screams - Run,” she dipped her head, her breath burning the skin on his neck. Matt crushed a groan in his throat, grabbing her arms, holding her in place.

“Run, Woods, run!”

The wind held its breath. A stillness fell over the street. The silence got torn apart by a low rumble of thunder. 

It felt like the ground underneath Matt’s feet was crumbling, and the walls he had spent so much time building around himself tumbling to the ground. Like he just stood there, breathless, holding up the roof, so that the weight of the truth didn’t crush his life-outside-Daredevil-duties, the life he fought so hard to hold on to. The life in which Y/N loved and trusted him.

He really blew it, didn’t he? A single second, a fleeting-moment kind of realisation, a mind-numbing moment of fear… All it took for his life to go down in flames of hell. 

Everything stopped. His heart came to a screeching halt. 

“Y/N, please,” he muttered, licking the water from his bottom lip. “Please, just let me…”

Her lips obliterated his every thought, swallowing the words off his mouth. Matt’s brain was instantly on fire - but her lips were cold, and the cool relief spread in waves all over his body, soothing all the parts of him that’d been on fire for too long.

From then on, everything accelerated, happening in a flash. Y/N pushed her fingers through his mane of damp hair, Matt groaned, his head falling back. Their bodies were aligned, her nipples cold against his chest…  

Y/N lips were Matt’s salvation and his torment. Exhaling frantically into his mouth, Y/N bit on his bottom lip, letting him feel her teeth, her need, her gratitude… She let him name it. 

“Oh my… dear Lord,” Matt growled, the feeling of diving headfirst into an erupting volcano with her, finally kicking his common sense into submission. With a jerk of his bruised body, he hoisted Y/N up, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist. Kissing her mad, kissing her senseless, he made his way up the porch and into the building, the door slamming shut behind them. 

The explosions of thunder continued to drown Hell’s Kitchen in the most deafening racket; but even its uproars could not hide the sounds made by two lovers, moving against each other, feeling each other… Loving each other like they’d never loved before.   

See the list of the prompts here & request the hell outta them 😈

[callioope]

Finally finished Community! Thoughts below. I can’t say they’re coherent or insightful, but thoughts below. I’m still sorta processing everything so I’m not even sure I’ll settle on these thoughts, but they are my immediate impressions after binging this thing in 2.5 weeks. (Whew!)

First, a preface: Prior to this binge session, I had seen one episode many years ago, but whatever episode that was I have no idea because none of them felt familiar to me. More importantly, though, I used to see a lot of Jeff/Annie stuff in my dash back when the show was still airing. So, that informs my preconceptions of the show before I started.

Overall impressions: 

The first three seasons are pretty solid, and honestly I didn’t really feel like season 4 missed a beat from them. At some point towards the end of season 4, or maybe early season 5, I stumbled on the season 4 controversy and was pretty surprised because I still enjoyed it. Season 5 actually felt like the beginning of a decline and season 6, whew. That was almost painful to watch. It felt pretty dry, lacking in the show’s original magic, and definitely forced, which was even addressed in the season finale. And speaking of the finale, despite some brief entertaining meta moments, it didn’t really feel like a good ending for the whole thing. But I suppose we’re still due that movie, right?

What I loved about the show was how much fun it had and the relationships between the characters. It seemed to do a good job of shaking up interactions so we got to see different sets of characters interacting. Troy and Abed’s dynamic was the most interesting to me (I think I’m going to have “Troy and Abed in the mooorning!” stuck in my head lol). The blanket fort episodes were pretty great.

Couldn’t stand Britta/Jeff moments. Didn’t like the idea of the woman Jeff just wanted to bang finally giving in. Would have been terrible if that had ended up (man did I hate the set up at the end of season 5! fortunately that seemed to be a ruse to make a point, like Jeff and Britta getting together “just because it was how the show started” wasn’t really a realistic ending. I’m looking at you How I Met Your Mother. I bet that was intentional. It probably was? When did HIMYM end? I have no idea because time stopped making sense after I graduated college. 

Troy/Britta was interesting, and I was into it, but when it fizzled out that also made sense. Troy/Abed, hmm? Idk. Maybe. Haven’t settled on that. I sorta feel like they’re missing a person, like they should be Troy/Abed/??? I just feel like they have that dynamic where they need a third person. But who? Britta? Eh. Idk. 

Speaking of Troy, I really wished he could have made it back for the finale, at least! That was sad. 

And now for no reasonable transition but just because I just binged 6 seasons in 2.5 weeks and am trying to remember all my thoughts throughout: Chang. Chang was pretty annoying. Honestly it was a miracle I made it through season 1, I made it through in spite of him. He was better when he wasn’t a teacher anymore but still kind of grating. Not my brand of humor, sorry.

Let’s see, what else? Oh, Pierce was also awful. In a different way from Chang but still pretty unbearable. Does it make a difference that I’m watching this post #metoo? Or did everyone agree he was unlikeable from the start? I rarely found anything redeeming about his character and he always felt like he just didn’t fit. (Side note that I had no idea Chevy Chase was in Community until I watched the pilot! It’s funny how much tumblr manages to spoil with gifsets and also not spoil.)

Jumping around again -- so I obviously knew Donald Glover was in Community but I feel like. The next time I watch Solo. That it’s going to be very weird seeing Troy there. Mostly because I know if it was Troy playing Lando it would be mindblowing to him. I hope whenever they make the movie there can be some throwaway reference to this.)

(also oh shit but i did not realize until I looked it up on imdb during like season 3 but Annie!!! was Trudy!!! in Mad Men!!! I did learn this fact before the Don Draper reference)

The Dean’s weird obvious crush on Jeff sort of made me uncomfortable. i mean the parts where he clearly fantasizes about jeff (the puppet thing for example). outside of that I thought the dean had some good moments, and I enjoyed the plot with the study group rescuing him from chang, but whenever he weirdly hit on Jeffrey it felt like negative representation. sort of like “look at this sex-crazed deviant harassing jeff” and that was bad. i mean it felt like harassment. is this supposed to be some sort of comeuppance for Jeff’s womanizing ways? If so it still feels off to me. Is there something I was missing there? I don’t want to upset anyone or be out of touch since I’m the noob here so please if I’m off let me know. 

What else??? I’m probably forgetting so much because I watched it so quickly. Everything’s sort of merging together.

Oh! Britta!! I did see in a negative review that Britta’s character kind of got screwed with and I do agree with that. I wasn’t a big fan of Britta but it did seem like her character development (what development) really stalled. And the jokes about her being terrible at psychology were overdone. I get that she’s supposed to be the screw up but let her have something she’s good at? I guess. I mean I guess she did end up helping people so it sorta worked out but idk, didn’t feel like they put her character to good use after season 4. 

I’m saving Jeff/Annie for last. As I stated above I was predisposed to thinking this was gonna be like THE ship of the show. I didn’t hate it, but it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting, namely because I didn’t realize the age thing was going to be such a prominent part of it. (Didn’t realize the age gap from the gifsets! ...or at least didn’t remember it) I do get the chemistry there, but there were some scenes that felt really awkward to me. I was waiting for it to get better and it sort of had its ups and downs. Loved the “teamwork” dynamic to their scenes, but sorta hated the paternal vibe. Jeff’s “I do this as a coping mechanism so I don’t have to address my feelings for you” sorta made sense, buuuut I also thought that scene Got Weird. Also didn’t feel like we got sufficient closure. Maybe we weren’t supposed to. But I felt like for as much weight as they tried to lend it at the end, there could have been more obvious development and build up towards it. Like, for as much time as Annie clearly spent pining over Jeff throughout the whole show, she really didn’t play a large role herself in the final episode. In one scene, I think it was one of the pitches, someone tells Jeff he’s not really thinking about what Annie wants, and I would have liked Annie to have a chance to speak to that, but even when Jeff finally admits he “let her go,” she barely says anything. So, idk. 

I worry that the movie would reset the status quo. I don’t really like that kind of thing, when season after season there’s no real progress made. It was a staple of sitcoms, sorta the point, but I like a show that an be funny and have character growth. (I’m looking at you, The Good Place! not every show can be the Good Place...) It did feel like we got character growth here. I think what I’m actually worried about is the Gilmore Girls Effect, where it’s allegedly ten years later and nothing has changed. That was a disaster. If they do a movie, I hope they think realistically about where the characters would have gone during the time that elapsed. Like reasonably. 

Anyways. Those are some very loose thoughts I basically just word-vomited immediately after finishing the last episode. It’s definitely possible I missed some things, as I was sewing masks during most of season 6 and some of season 5. And I watched them really fast in general. So who knows what I’m forgetting. It’s all a blur. I’m gonna stop myself before I embarrass myself even further. And probably go read some fic. Yeah. 

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

hey uhhh idk if you write this kind of thing, but i have an alcohol problem. in the past i’ve found your writing about depression really validating bc i’m a big Queen fan and it kind of... normalises my issues? idk, i just wondered if you’d ever write about alcoholism? maybe the band coming to terms with the fact that the affected member isn’t just a “party animal” and actually has an addiction, then getting them help? yh sorry if this is a weird ask 😅

Content Warning for Alcoholism/Alcohol Abuse

♚

John’s eyes fluttered open, the room still spinning, the bathroom lights looking like the spotlights on stage. His cheek was cold and flush against the rim of the toilet seat, his body hunched over it. He spit the foul taste from his mouth into the bowl, lifting his heavy head up, to look over at Roger who was standing by the door.

“At least you made it this time,” Roger said with a chuckle. John smiled at him, nodding slowly in agreement. Throwing up in anything but a toilet or trash can was a definite way to end a party and ruin the mood. And the both of them still had a lot more dancing and drinking to do.

Roger helped him up, John flushing the toilet before washing his hands and rinsing his mouth. The nausea was already fading. A good puke was all it took to get back in the game. It worked nearly every time.

Roger pat John’s back as they walked back out into the party, John intent on keeping up his antics. One instance of vomiting was not going to keep him from participating in this rager.

The music blasted, the bass rattling the windows of Freddie’s house. Colored lights spun all around the room, illuminating the party goers smiles and laughs. The dance floor, which was once Freddie’s living room was packed with hot bodies all pressed against each other, writhing and swinging to the beat that was almost too loud to be heard. Hands groped and pushed, feet shuffling. Heads were thrown back, liquid courage streaming into open mouths.

John lost Roger in the crowd, the blond probably craving another fix of the white stuff going around like candy. John needed his own fix, so he headed for the makeshift bar. One plastic cup, a dash of orange juice and a helping of vodka. His heart sped up as it slithered down his throat, nestling into his irritated and hot stomach. Immediately, the warmth spread through his core, his limbs beginning to feel like lead again, his mind beginning to fog.

He made himself another, forgoing the orange juice in favor of plain vodka. He let out a fiery sigh, now ready to join the others on the floor.

He floated over to a familiar puff of curly hair, a loopy smile on his face.

“Enjoying yourself, John?” Brian yelled over the music.

John began to sway side to side, the music dictating his every move. “Yes,” he said with a bubbly giggle.

Brian couldn’t hear him but figured he was. He continued on with his awkward dancing, his hands in the air, unknowingly moving away from John.

John didn’t care. He let himself get carried away by the funk, his knees bending, shoulders rolling, head bopping. He felt careless and free. He danced up women and men alike, accepting every drink that was pushed into his hands. He was rained with cigarettes and even found his way back to Roger, his nose red and white.

The room was ill-lit, but Roger’s eyes looked black, consumed by the pupil. “Want some?” he asked, holding up a plate. John held up his cup, graciously filled with brandy. He shimmied away, working his way over to Freddie, half naked and drenched in sweat from nonstop dancing.

John wrapped his arm around Freddie’s waist, startling the singer. Freddie playfully slapped John’s shoulder, saying, “You scared me! How’re you holding up, Deaks?” John just hummed the lyrics in response, too far gone to make any sensical words. Freddie found the answer sufficient, letting the two of them bop together to the music for a bit before scampering off to make out with Jim again.

John downed the last of his brandy, the world beginning to spin again. He laughed, unsteadily walking back to the bar for a refill. He could barely coordinate himself, but he got there in one piece. More vodka, his preferred vice. One swig, two swigs, three. A stranger, whooping and hollering, added more to his cup. He couldn’t say no. Down it went.

He unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. It was hot and he was roasting.

Everything became too woozy. He sipped more. The music sounded like blurs. The lights looked like smudges. He sipped. He felt nausea tickling the back of his throat. Another sip.

His conscience told him to stop.

Something deep in his heart told him to not listen.

Bottoms up.

He fell back onto his ass, his cup spilling all over him. He licked at his arms, trying to salvage what he could. And then he laid down.

He was 10 and on a merry go round, laying flat on the middle, being spun over and over, faster and faster by someone he didn’t know. Faster and faster until the sky white and he was soaring.

A torrent of vomit came out of John and all over himself. He rolled over and continued heaving and retching until he was pure again, the floor defiled with his filth.

I didn’t make it this time, Roger, he thought.

♚

“You went real hard last night, John. Just came to see if you woke up this morning,” Brian said as he hung his coat on the coat rack, walking into John’s house.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Got too excited is all,” John said, shuffling to the kitchen in his bathroom, trailed by the guitarist.

Brian chuckled, rubbing his neck. “I think we all did. Roger called me this morning, not knowing how he got home. I was the one who got him the bloody taxi!”

John snorted, walking up to his coffee machine. “He looked manic last night. His eyes were all wild. Sounds about right,” he said, pouring himself a cup, offering one to Brian who declined.

He rummaged through his medicine cabinet, pulling out some over the counter pain killers. This time, Brian accepted the offer.

“Even the virtuous Brian went hard last night, hmm?” John teased, popping 4 tablets into his mouth, swallowing it with the black coffee. Brian waved him off, taking his tablets with water.

“It was Fred’s birthday. Kinda hard to resist the devil when Freddie’s the one throwing the party.”

True that.

Brian sat by the kitchen table, sipping his water and wincing at the sunlight that poured through the window. He became so quite that in John’s hung-over brain, he forgot he was even there.

He poured himself some more coffee, throwing in a dash of sugar, a splash of creamer and a hearty glug of vodka from the flask he had in his robe pocket.

“John, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Brian said, making John jump in surprise.

“Jesus Christ. Sorry. Sorry. Bad habit,” he said softly, his face reddening as he dumped his concoction down the sink.

“Habit? You’re telling me you not only do this daily, in the morning none the less, but you walk around with a flask in your bloody dressing gown?” Brian asked incredulously, the tendons in his hands popping out.

John was faced away from Brian, holding onto the edge of the sink. He squeezed it tight, letting out a sharp puff of air. “I’m hung over. I- it was a mistake is all. Sorry.”

Brian wasn’t so sure about that but left anyways, his welcome clearly overstayed.

Once the door was closed, John ditched the coffee and cream, going straight to his flask.

He wondered if Brian would bring this up again.

♚

John felt a firm slap to the back of his head, flinching as he woke up, looking around for the perpetrator, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Why’d you even come over if you didn’t want to help?” Roger asked, throwing an oil stained towel at John’s face. John was too slow to catch it. He set the towel down on Roger’s work bench, lazily getting up and toddling over to Roger who was crouched by an old car.

“Sorry. Tired, you know,” John offered, a weak excuse but the only one his hazy brain could make up.

Roger recoiled at his presence, nose scrunching up. “Jeez, John. Were you partying last night?”

John shook his head. He was home all night, watching TV.

“You fucking reek like a pub, mate. What’s up with that?” Roger said, his perfectly blue eyes looking him up and down.

John should’ve probably been scared from the interrogation, but he felt too loose in the joints to care.

“Oh. I had a few drinks,” He admitted easily.

“A few?” Roger spluttered out.

“Maybe more.” John shrugged.

Roger’s lips pressed into a tight line, taking in John. Dirty clothes, disheveled hair. Bloodshot eyes and a 5 o’clock shadow. He didn’t look put together.

Roger looked at the asphalt at his feet and then up to John’s eyes.

“You know...Brian told me he caught you putting vodka into your coffee one morning…is that true?” His head was tilted, eyebrows furrowed.

John thought for a moment. “Probably.”

Roger cleared his throat, not prepared for that answer.

“Are you drunk now?”

“A bit.”

“And you drove here?”

“Mh-hmm.”

Roger got up, dusting his jeans, his head shaking. They all knew John had an affinity for drinking. It was obvious during parties and after shows. The man liked a stiff drink. Who were they to think any worse of it?

But lately, John hadn’t been himself. Sloppier and lax. Always dozing off, always up in his head. They thought he was going through a down period. None of them would’ve guessed he was a functional drunk. Not until right now.

“You need help, John.” Roger said, his voice a mixture of confusion, fear and sternness.

John leaned back to look up at Roger, frowning. “What? No, I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m way passed that mate. You need help and I’m gonna get you it.”

John huffed, standing up, wobbling some. He walked past Roger, back into Roger’s house, saying, “I did not come here to be lectured. I don’t need help. I’m fine. I’m going.”

There was a tight grip to his arm, tugging him backwards. He was now in front of a red-faced Roger.

“And I’m not letting you drive home,” he said, teeth grit.

“You don’t have any right to do that! Let me go, Roger. I’m fine! I’m fine! Let me go!” John hissed, struggling against Roger’s unwavering hold on him.

“Fine,” Roger said, his eyes big as he let John go. John crashed to the floor, his flask and keys flying out of his pocket. He scrambled to pick it up, but swiftly and with sober ease, Roger snatched both of them up. He walked away after that, without so much as a word to John.

“Where are you going?” John yelled, fighting a losing battle with gravity as he tried to get up.

“Gonna make some phone calls. Meet me in the kitchen whenever you can,” Roger replied with a bitter sting.

John gave up, laying down on the cold tile. He shivered, his stomach churning.

I didn’t make it this time, Roger.

♚

Dear John,

I’m terribly sorry I never noticed you were suffering. I should have been a better friend. I took you under my wing after all. I should have noticed.

I hope that here, you can begin to find peace again. I’m still not sure what’s ailing you, but when you get out, we can work on it together, alright? I need you to know that you’re not alone. That you aren’t bad. That you’ve done nothing wrong. The human condition can be treacherous at times. The need to numb it isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a sign of a fight to continue in any capacity possible.

I love you so much, Deacy. I can’t wait to see you again. I want to go shopping with you and maybe you can stay with me and Jim sometime, if you’d want.

Take care of yourself. Heal. Breathe.

Love, Freddie.

♚

John,

I apologize for my lack of initiative to figure things out. I’m sorry I chose my own comfort in ignoring this rather than reaching out. I promise I won’t ever do that again. You are one of my greatest friends. I’ll never do anything to jeopardize that. I need you here with me ‘till I’m old and grey and I’ll make sure that you never go through something like this again.

I pray that once you’re out, we can talk together and do some soul searching. I know what it’s like to be so down that only a substance feels like the right medication. I understand more than I’ve let on to you guys before. You can always come to me to talk. I guarantee you, I probably was there too at one point or another.

Until then, I hope this place does you well. A break from the stress of life is always a good thing. Don’t rush it. Take your time here. Let yourself unravel. Be truthful with the psychologists. Don’t be afraid to sound silly or obnoxious or rude. You won’t be any of those. The mind is a weird place. Let yourself be vulnerable.

I’ll be seeing you soon, Deacy. Keep your head up and you might just see the stars!

Bri.

♚

I’m so sorry.

RMT

♚

John sniffled, putting away the letters his best friends had written for him. He got out of his bed, walking towards the window. He leaned against the windowsill, the morning sun heating up his skin, lighting up his face.

This was the first day he felt completely detoxed. No shakes, no anxiety, no nausea. He finally felt free of the chain around his ankle. He could move better, think clearer, breathe deeper. He felt like this whole recovery thing might work. He might be a human again. No need for liquid crutches. Just a man. A free man.

He cracked open the window, sticking his head out to smell the spring air. His cheeks felt an invigorating cool breeze and not the frigid porcelain for once. A smile tugged at his lips, his hands running through his hair. He was ready for today.

He had group therapy in an hour. He had time to bang out some letters before then. He rushed to his desk, pulling out some pen and paper.

Rog,

Don’t be sorry. It should be me who’s sorry. Without you, without the other guys, I would’ve kept spiraling.

I wouldn’t have made it.

But I’m here and alive and I think I’ll soon start to thrive.

So, I want to thank you. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for still loving me as a brother even after I yelled and cursed at you. Thank you for taking my life into your own hands. I’ll never be able to repay you. But I’ll try.

I want to tell you about my time here. I don’t know, maybe you’d be interested.

Every morning, we wake up at 8. We get to….