#they are all going to get a beat down eventually. in the worst way possible

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ stupid

Pairings: Sam Winchester X reader

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and in taking care of you, Sam reveals a hidden talent and maybe even some hidden feelings…

Word count: 2.1k

Tags; Sam and reader have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, Sam x fem!reader, carheartt!Sam

Requests are open

part two

You never realized just how cold it got in Montana until you were here, wrapped up in Sam’s carheartt with his hands on your waist.

Well, one of his hands was on your waist, the other was digging through the pocket of his jacket for the motel room key.

“Sorry,” Sam chuckled awkwardly as his hand accidentally brushed over the small gap of exposed skin between your jeans and top.

This is definitely not what you had imagined when you envisioned his hands on you.

“It’s fine, really,” you replied with that sweet consideration he adored.

His left hand fumbles uselessly between the two of you- desperately searching for the key. He was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed. You had gotten injured-stabbed in the thigh on a hunt when he should’ve been protecting you. On top of all of that now he now has you out in the cold because he can’t find a damn key.

He eventually manages to get the key between his fingers but much to his dismay he couldn’t quite manage to pull it from the pocket due to the precarious position the two of you were in: Your left arm swung around his shoulder, his right hand on your waist and his other wedged between the two of you.

Sam was far too kind to let you slip from his grasp, no matter how many times you told him you were fine. So, you take matters into your own hands. “Here, lemme just-“

You shift your weight to your injured leg, giving him just the right amount of room to fish the key out.

His smile of triumph quickly falters once he hears your hiss of pain. He instinctively tightens his grip, reeling you back into him and closing the gap between your bodies; Sending your heart beat racing.

There’s a stillness for the moment. You staring into his eyes and he into yours. Sam couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment. Your normally neat, pulled back hair now wild and lovely with the cool night wind whipping through it. Your cheeks and nose were this beautiful shade of pink from the cold and all he wanted to do was reach out and cup your divine face in his hands.

“Sam,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. You never realized just how much green was in those pretty hazel eyes.

He tries to speak but not a thought -well, not a thought aside from professing his love(which he thought to be a terrible idea)- comes to mind.

Instead he blinks, searching your face for something- anything. Even a slight muscle twitch that would let him in on what you were thinking.

“The door.”

“Right,” he nods, clearing his throat and breaking the moment. He felt so stupid.

As the key turns in the lock you mentally curse yourself. Why the hell did you say that? That was the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.

He helps you limp your way into the motel room, the whole time not daring to look at you. And you do the same.

“Come on, there ya go, atta girl.” Sam grunted, gently setting you down on the bed.

Aside from your royal fuck up a minute ago, maybe this whole thing (getting stabbed included) wasn’t too bad. After all, you did get to hear sam say “atta girl” and if you were being honest, you liked it.

While Sam went to go dig out the med kit from his duffle bag you found yourself zoned out staring at his muscular frame. His hair, god it was perfect. Whose hair looks that good after spending the better half of the night in an abandoned building? It was practically witchcraft.

“Last time we let Dean pick the motel,” Sam chuckled.

“Hm?” You questioned, Sam’s voice snapping you from your train of thought.

“The whole uh, “Wild West” theme,” He smiles, gesturing to a cowboy hat hung just past his head.

“Right,” you chuckle dryly. “Definitely not letting him pick again.” You hadn’t really noticed the room; you were a bit preoccupied.

“I mean seriously,” Sam said, sitting next to you. “Where’d they get all this stuff? Cowboy furnishings?”

You giggle at Sam’s joke and lay your leg in his lap. Wine colored blood had pooled at the epicenter of the make-shift bandage (the torn sleeve of Deans FBI suit.)

The room was just large enough to comfortably accommodate two queen sized beds, separated by a thin wooden divider. On the far end of the room there was a pull-out couch with a cowboy hat pattern dancing across the leather; that same pattern reflected on the small sofa chair across from the head of your bed.

“Wild West express?” You reply while looking around the room- not wanting to lay eyes on that nasty wound. Sam chuckled and you somehow find yourself right back where you started- staring straight at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. His smile was enchanting.

The room had this homely atmosphere, whether that was due to Sam’s presence or the warm lighting was a mystery to you. The lights seemed to perfectly reflect on his face, illuminating those stunning hazel eyes and giving his skin a warm honey glow.

While Sam worked on disinfecting your wound he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. You were right there, mere feet from him and yet you still got hurt. Sure you’ve been banged up worse, not to mention the other bruises all three of you sustained on this hunt alone. But this time, this time was different. You’d need stitches, the stab was a few inches deep and wide with jagged edges. He cringes as he threads the needle. This was his fault.

His eyes snap to your face after the first nonevent of the needle through your skin. Your jaw was clenched tight, eyes large and pointed toward the ceiling, attempting to breathe through the pain. Guilt fills him at the very sight.

“Should’ve drank.” You grunt out, your hand balling into a fist as your eyes squeeze as tight as a camera shutter. Your head falls forward, your wind-whipped hair forming a curtain over the sides of your face. Even in pain, somehow, Sam thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen all wrapped up in a brown carheartt.

“Almost done.” He says gently, tying a knot and cutting the thread.

You let out a hefty breath, throwing your head back against the bed frame and sinking into the mattress with relief.

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee, gently raising it. “God-“ he breaths, the new angle allowing him a better veiw of just how bad it was. “If I was there I could’ve-“ he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in a dog-like manner of confusion. “What? Sam, this isn’t your fault.”

The pain had mostly subsided, fading to a feeling of dull pressure - more uncomfortable than anything really.

“Regardless. You got hurt on my watch.”

“Sam, c’mon. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you frowned. He was too sweet for his own good.

The both of you knew this was a losing battle. You had this conversation a dozen times over during the car ride alone.

Sam goes back to silently wrapping your thigh in gauze while you decide to let your eyes wander around the room. Eventually you land on a wooden guitar propped up against the sofa chair right across from you.

You gasp and before Sam knows it you’re on your feet foot, the roll of gauze dangling from your thigh.

“What are you-“ he calls your name in an exasperated manner. “I wasn’t-“

You spin on your heels and reveal yourself to be holding a guitar with a beaming smile on your face.

“Oh no- oh no no no no.” Sam shakes his head.

“Pleaseeeee,” you beg, giving him the most puppy-dog eyed look you can muster.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he grins. “Now c’mon, sit.” He pats the space next to him and reaches out to take your hand. “Gotta finish patchin’ you up.”

You fold your arms over your chest with smugness he knew all too well. “That’s not gonna work on me,” you replied, looking from him to the guitar.

“Dude, I haven’t played since like, college.” His hand falls limply to his lap with a sigh. “Now c’mere before you make me regret ever getting drunk around you.” Sam attempts to make his voice sound serious but fails to hide the smile on his face and the amusement in his voice.

“Oh please,” you said through laughter at his expression. He looked adorable trying to be serious. “Just one song.”

Your laughter, it was contagious. Being around you was like the best high. “No.”He laughs, and he doesn’t even know why. “Okay, okay, how bout this?” He adjusts his position a little, trying to shove down the laughter. “You let me finish bandaging you up and I’ll play one, and I mean one, song?”

“Orrrrr, you play a song and I’ll let you bandage me up.”

“You can’t be serious. y’know you run the risk of infection the longer you don’t let me wrap it?”

“Then you better get to playing guitar-boy”

You smile and simply hold out the guitar to him.

Slowly, a scheming grin spreads on his lips, his large hand grabs the guitar and your wrist in one fail swoop. He attempts to get you seated back on the bed again but you’re too quick.

“Ha! Not gonna get me that easy!”

You giggle as you slip from his grasp. He watches as you run off do this weird limp-hopping thing off into the bathroom, the unfinished gauze swinging from your leg like a pendulum.

If he really wanted, he could easily stop you but he was more interested in seeing where this would go.

A few years ago, while Dean was off flirting with the bartender, you and Sam were in the back of the bar like a couple of wall flowers.

That’s the night you started to look at him differently, to feel things for him differently. That’s the night you started to like him; and it only grew from there. Admittedly, you both had a bit too much to drink. You told each other things nobody else knew. During the conversation he talked about his college days; how he smoked weed a few times (you couldn’t stop laughing at this) and played guitar like a proper hippie. (This also, much to his dismay, made you erupt into drunken laughter).

“You alright in there?” Sam calls from the room.

“Y-yeah! I’m good.” You shout back. You quickly tie off the end of the bandage and waltz back into the room only to discover Sam in the sofa chair, guitar in his lap.

You press your hand to your chest and make a show of having an aghast expression. “Is that what I think it is? Sam Winchester! Strumming the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just tuning it is all.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, packing up the first aid kit.

Sam’s fingers work the strings of the guitar, playing around with a few notes here and there, tuning, plucking strings. But at the playing of a few specific chords, your ears perk up in recognition.

You immediately race limp-jog? Over to the bed and perch yourself upon the edge. Sam smiles at your eager face.

“I figured one of us outta hold up our end of the deal.”

You just smile and shake your head.

And there you were. Staring into Sam’s eyes, doing a mixture of humming and singing along while he played your favorite song on guitar.

“…hmm hm hm… we pop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…”

He would hum and sing along with you, a slight hesitation every time the main part of the chorus would appear.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like-“

As if the lyric held far too much weight to sing.

“I love you…”

Eventually, you began to drift off. Sinatra always put you to sleep. He knew that. Sam’s eyes don’t leave you for a moment. You were reveire incarnate. Half asleep, head on a pillow and lazily humming along.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like…”

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every soft slumbering breath. Warm lighting over your skin. Tranquil and mesmerizing as a sunset.

The lyrics come out a statement more than anything else. A truthful, unsung whisper.

“I love you.”

[burstinn]

brother, brother. since you wrote the one for the very tall male reader, up to do one about a short guy who’s built as a bulk? champ’ll be like 5’6 but able to lift a man Ghost’s size

the guys teasing him about it but then he just challenges them and BOOM super strength

slight nsfw if possible, please, it’s 03:42am and I don’t want blue balls :(

dk mate just a thought, sorry for bothering

SHORT READER, STRONG AS FUCK THO-

((Headcanons))

People mentioned: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alex, Farah, Rudy, Alejandro.

Warning: slight nsfw that's it, I got lazy with Farah bbg Farah and Ale and Rudy.. AUGHH

Note:Readers height is not mentioned.. So just think of reader just shorter than the boys.

And this is only for the 141 team and associates hcs

No Kortac but will be adding the Mexican special forces I.e Alejandro, ++++

Hope you don't mind-

You have trained hard though you were shorter than most of your colleagues you were just as strong as them maybe even more.

Which caught the attention of the wild renowned John Price. When he saw you with your team during a mission and watched how you worked well, you could get into small spaces and could take out just as much men.

You were swift and efficient at your job and when he offered you to work for 141, you spent no time to think and immediately agreed.. I mean like YOU in the 141?!? With the high leagues?!? You wouldn't even pass up the chance!

PRICE

-Already impressed when he first saw you, he swiftly went to speak too laswell about you.

-Not to say she wasn't impressed as well though

-So you got an offer on the spot after your mission. But Price did give you time to think about it

-When you said yes he simply nodded his head an said "Can't wait to have you be part of the team"

-He gave you time to change your mind, pack up, say goodbye to your former teammates and superiors before hopping on the heli and flying off to your new team. Excited and nervous.

-When you hopped off the Heli a hop in your step as you approach the highly revered team. Price immediately walks up beside you patting you in your back and pushing you forward.

-Happily letting you introduce yourself.

- He knows how strong you can be he's just waiting for you to finally show your potential so the team can see why he let you join the team

GHOST

-He immediately frowned under his mask.. There's no way.. Well it's not that he's very judgy with recruits... But.. Goddamn you were short.. Hell shorter than Gaz.

-But he shook off those thoughts there must be a real good reason Price chose you.

-And he won't doubt his captains choice.

- Don't judge a book by its cover or something

- When you got around base, meeting everyone getting comfortable. He comfortable with you as well you're a neat guy.

- Though when it came to training. He saw how you worked.. Like shit you broke the punching bag for fucks sake. No one was expecting that not really, so now Ghost's got really interested in seeing you train.

- When people asked you and Ghost to spar with each other he is hesitant. I mean look at you and look at him. You breaking the punching was not expected yes, but people break shit all the time.

- Thinks he could easily beat you. Worst case he would probably break something of you

- You actually seem to encourage him to fight with you until he says yes.

- Eventually said yes and quickly tried to take you down before you roll under him and lift the fuck out him and throwing him.

- face under mask went like 😨😦😐🤨

- Yoo? Tried to tackle you fails miserably now your on top of him. Sitting down on his neck cuz 😏😏 Your holding his hands on top of his head too BECAUSE RAAAAAAA

- " You're going easy on me lieutenant.."

- Going easy on you huh? YOU WANNA KNOW WHERE ELSE HE WON'T GO EASY ON YOU?!?

GWHWBWBSNSJWAAAHAHAHAHA.

SOAP

-He furrows his brow, eyes really wide when he saw you.

-Then as if there was no more other thought in his head.. He just walked up to you and picked you up.. Like a cat.

-Earning him a smack on his head from Price then Ghost. He puts you down after that. Saying a short sorry.

-He gave you a small smile. Though small doubts trickled in his thoughts. He brushed it off. You looked cute anyway not like he would pass up another cute guy that atleast won't hide their face 😒😒. Ehem ehem..

-So when you got comfortable around base he swiftly started chatting you up. Pleasantly having a nice conversation as always with you.

- He likes picking you up like a cat

- when you can't reach something, he'd pull you up to his shoulders so you can reach it

- Gets infatuated with you.. Thinks you're so cute.

- Height Jokes

- When you called him over to see how you pull up weights. Putting fucking 4 HEAVY ASS weights on each side. And you FUCKING LIFT IT

- He got so hard it's unbelievable.

GAZ

- Oh.. Uh?

- 🤨

- He thinks you're cool.. Non chalant about your height.

- He would bully you sometimes.. But it's all no harm.

-Height Jokes

- Would keep stuff out of your reach he thinks its funny, except for the part where you kicked him straight in the balls.

- One day he did that again keeping something out of your reach dangling it over your head..

-You suddenly picked him up. It made him scream and he waddled in your arms and fell off.

- Falling in his ass. HOW DID YOU CARRY HIM? LOOK AT YOU!! HOW'D YOU DO THAT??

- He opened his mouth to idk.. Scold you. Asked you how you carried him..

- Then he shut himself up when you carried him princess wedding style and moving him while looking down at your stuff finding wherever he fell your stuff.

- Blushing hee hee a little princess being carried

- You eventually set him down and he silently walked away

- Would do it again more frequently.. He just wants to be carried wedding style again.

ALEX KELLER

- Huh? 🤨

- Confuckled

- Talked to Price about you.. Asking questions then finally confirmed that you are part of 141

- Thinks of you like a small lost child sometimes

- If he sees you walking around base has to do a double take then remembers it's you.

- You're short he sometimes forgets to look down too see you. It's not like you're that short.. It's just he keeps his head up since the team is yknow... Tall.. Well taller than you.

- one day he got mad because " you weren't there" when he was looking for you.. Even though you were literally near him.

- So you reached over and grabbed his collar to pull him down. He got shocked and tried to pull away..

- But goddamn you were holding his collar like a fuckin' champ.

- Blood immediately pumps to his face.. And pumps somewhere down there YK YKKKK! ! ! WAAHAHAHAHHA

FARAH

-Bro is an inch taller than her

- Side eyes you for a moment before nodding her head to herself.. She knows you're strong but she still judging you tho

- Calls you gay.

- Plays with your cheeks.. Stress reliever face cheeks. You're the easiest to reach anyway

- She did nun wrong to you really.. She just saw how you beat everyones asses literally

- like?? Huuh?

- Wants to be like you too. Small but strong asfuck

- Not like she's not like that anyway

- Strong woman real real

- Slay

- Just gives you a small smile everytime she sees you.. Just impressed..

ALEJANDRO

- Thinks you look like a child. Even asked about if you were a child.

- Also doesn't see you sometimes.. Especially when there are other taller people in the room probably covering you from his line of vision.

- Spanish word for small, tiny, mini, short, Gremlin... Yeah..

- If he's upset with you and you get the fucking balls to turn your body away from him. Hell if you even think to walk away

- He grabs you by the back of your shirt/ collar. And turns you to face him. Close so you can see how upset he is by you.

- You even dare to give him a scowl.. Oh my god.. He'd either want to slam you on the floor or wall. Maybe scream in Spanish on you.

- May or may not still be angry with you. Or he let's you run off because he doesn't want to deal with you.

- ..... (make up sex..)

RUDY

- Treats you like a child even though he knows you aren't

- Asks you if you're okay if you even graze a shoulder, would put a hand on your head and ruffles it

- Also Spanish nickname for small... Bla bla bla

- Sometimes he picks you up and carries you around on his shoulder. Even with your protests, telling him how it's so damn embarrassing.

- it is but he don't care.. He thinks it's funny.

- Then if you turn the tables spinning him around with your legs. And flipping him over making him hit his head on the floor.

- Audible groan.. And looks at you like 😧🙁☹️

-Why'd you do that? ☹️☹️ kinda face

- Then Wait how'd you do that? 🤨🤨 face

- Now you show him your amazing ass Strength even though you're small asfuck

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

Complete fluff, tiny bit of angst but mainly cheesy fluff.

Originally this was going to be a vampire Eddie fic but I changed my mind halfway through writing, I hope you still enjoy ❤️

Lyrics from Aerosmith's I don't wanna miss a thing

💞

Eddie seeks out the sound of your heartbeat. It soothes him, reminds him that you're alive and that the horrors of the Upside Down are now over.

He lays beside you on his bed and rests his head on your chest, the tension of the day melts away and he listens to the steady beats of your heart.

When the final showdown occurred between Hawkins and The Upside Down, Eddie was sure he wouldn't survive, he had already cheated death once when he survived the demobats attack; there was no way he would be lucky this time.

By some miracle he did survive. It was you who nearly died, who had nearly been torn apart by a Demogorgon- it certainly did some damage before you and Nancy torched the fucker.

Then you were on the ground and barely moving, blood seeping through your shirt and your heartbeat was slow, too slow. A soft smile graced your features as Eddie held you and you whispered those three little words.

I love you. Words Eddie had been wanting to hear for weeks but never thought it could be possible, now they were a deathbed confession.

Things for you were touch and go for days as you were whisked away to some government hospital and Eddie was a panicked, anxious mess; not even his strongest weed helped calm his racing mind.

When you were at the hospital Eddie heard no news for days and resigned himself to the worst. However he promised himself that if you did pull through, then he wasn't going to hide how he felt, he would tell you that he loved you too.

It seemed like a hopeless dream at that point but then you did survive and Eddie didn't waste anymore time, he confessed his feelings and the two of you had been inseparable since.

Fuck, he could have lost you. Nightmares still plagued Eddie about how still you were or the blood all over your clothes...the sheer terror he felt when you whispered I love you then closed your eyes and said no more.

The only reason he knew you were alive is because El found a faint pulse.

Needless to say he never took for granted the fact that you survived, against all odds you were here sleeping soundly beside him, the soft sound of your breathing was like a balm to his chaotic thoughts.

He peers up at you smiling as he sees you're fast asleep, expression peaceful, a tiny smile on your face. Briefly Eddie wonders what you're dreaming of? He hopes it's of him; just dreams that are sweet and untroubled.

They had enough of trouble for a lifetime.

Eventually Eddie begins to feel tired, he leans up just for a moment to press soft kisses to your forehead, your eyes, nose and then your lips.

Nearly losing you and the thought of never seeing your beautiful face again, hearing your laughter or your voice had scared the shit out of Eddie. So every day he's with you he thanks his lucky stars that you're alive.

He never gets tired of memorising every little detail of you, listening intently to you and holding you as close as possible to him whenever he can.

Eddie intends to never miss a moment of your time together because he's lucky that you're still here and in his life.

And he doesn't want to miss a thing.

❤️

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating, and I wonder what you're dreaming, wondering if it's me you're seeing.

And then I kiss your eyes and thank god we're together and I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever.

Forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep. 'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

I don't wanna miss a thing- Aerosmith

[catalinaromanoff]

silence

wandanat x mute reader

summary: your girlfriends are always there for you and the only people who truly understand you.

warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attack

мой сладкий (moy sladkiy) = my sweet

красивая девушка (krasivaya devushka) = beautiful girl

inspired by the song: (not a songfic tho)

you hadn’t always been mute. in fact, up until you were six years old, your parents couldn’t get you to shut up. your teachers up until you were mute would complain about how disruptive you were and how nothing could get done in your presence.

maybe that was the reason you went mute. maybe not. who knows? all you know is that one day you no longer wanted anything to do with this wretched and cruel world. and so, you stopped talking.

at first your parents had tried everything they could to get you to utter just one simple word like “hi” or “goodbye.” all attempts failed. you just weren’t interested.

eventually, they gave up. they shipped you away, labeling you a ‘freak’ and ‘unlovable’ to the extravagant foster home you would spend the next twelve years in. sure, they didn’t care about you, but they still had money and if they were going to send a child away they wanted to say it was ‘the best foster home in the nation.’

what a lie.

this ‘foster home’ resembled the red room. thousands of girls trained to be cold-blooded killers. they like you. a lot. they liked your silence and the way you carried yourself. slowly you climbed up the ranks and became one of their best spies at the ripe age of fourteen. you didn’t know why you were so compliant. it could’ve possibly been because of your disinterest. you didn’t care if you were the best or the worst. you just went through the motions.

one could guess those motions led you to be one of the best assassinators, rivaling the black widow. until she joined the avengers.

you remember the day the black widow was no longer one of you. no longer an assassinator, except looking to stop them. your superiors were furious and scared. that was the scariest day of your life. after the black widow’s change of teams, the ‘white spies’ as your organization would call you all, were abused and treated horribly.

one night in particular you had failed to follow their instructions. an assassination gone wrong. you were sixteen, for goodness sake. they asked you if you had anything to say for yourself, obviously you didn’t. you were mute. they knew this. and yet, they put you through hours of torture. you were beat, thrown around, and-

suddenly you shoot up and sit up straight in your bed. you let out a gut-wrenching sob. you’re shaking. where are you? are they coming to get you?

without warning you feel a hand on your arm. you’re now scrambling out of bed, shaking, and screaming at this unknown person to not touch you. what if they hurt you?

the lights come on and you slowly realize where you are. you’re not a white spy anymore. you’re apart of the avengers, and have two wonderful girlfriends. you try to stop the shaking and the panic but you simply can’t. not without them.

“honey.. can i touch you?”

you hear wanda’s gravely morning voice and nod your head yes immediately. she gets up from your shared bed and slowly approaches you. suddenly you realize you have backed yourself into a corner.

wanda finally reaches your position and sits down across from you. she holds her hands out for you to grab, which you immediately do.

“i want you to breath with me, okay мой сладкий?”

you nod your head and follow her breathing.

in, 1, 2, 3,

hold, 1, 2, 3,

out, 1, 2,3,

you continue repeating this until you eventually calm down. no more shaking, your thoughts are under control, but now you know you won’t be able to head back to bed. not like this.

“another dream about them, huh?”

nat speaks up from her spot in the bed. she’s sitting on the edge and had been carefully observing you and wanda. you don’t like this distance and so you signal her to come over.

you sign to her: to answer your question, yes.

you had learned sign language as you grew up. having technology and the internet at your disposal allowed you to spend all day and all night constantly learning the intricate language. at first you began with finger spelling but slowly moved on to more advanced gestures. unfortunately, not a lot of people know sign language.

in fact, when you had first been recruited to join the avengers, you had almost been fired. no one knew how to communicate with you and assholes from the lower ranks complained about having to learn the sign language alphabet in order to ‘talk’ to you. however director fury did not want to fire you. so he appointed a deaf S.H.I.E.L.D. intern to teach weekly sign language classes.

so here you are. communicating with your girlfriends through your language.

nat smiles sadly at your response.

“it’s been getting worse lately, hasn’t it?”

you slowly nod your head. of course they would notice. you barely slept anymore. you felt like a zombie.

“is there anything i can do? maybe i can try to use my powers to calm your brain down?”

you shake your head.

i need to get over this on my own. last time we used your powers the nightmares came back worse.

wanda sighs and frustratedly runs her hand through her hair. nat wraps her arm around her waist and pulls her closer. you continue to hold her right hand.

“i just hate seeing you like this.”

i know.

you smile sadly and pull wanda in for a hug. after a while you share a hug with natasha.

we’ll get through this.

nat nods her head and smiles at me.

“you’re so strong.”

you begin to blush and hide your face in your hands.

you hear wanda’s infectious laugh as they watch you get flustered over nat’s compliment.

“oh cmon красивая девушка, we wanna see your face. you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

you giggle and stiffen your arms up when nat reaches over and tries to pry your hands from your face.

“okay, guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

suddenly you feel two pairs of hands begin to tickle you every which way. you can barely contain my loud laughter. you kick at the hands in order to get them away but to no avail. eventually you give up and take your hands away from your face.

the tickles finally stop and you continue to giggle, out of breath.

i love you two so much.

nat and wanda smile.

we love you too. way more than you know.

you don’t even realize they signed until a few seconds later. it wasn’t even finger spelling — it was actual sign language! you feel your eyes well up with tears. you pull both of your girlfriends into a bone-crushing hug. you let out a watery laugh.

“we decided to learn sign language. no more finger spelling.”

you nod and squeal. you feel seen.

for the first time in your life, you feel like no one is trying to change you. not one, but two people accept you for you are and are willing to learn your language. for the first time since you were six, you don’t feel disconnected from the world.

you feel truly loved.

a/n: honestly i wasn’t expecting to write again today but i read something on here a long time ago that made it back to the front of my brain. but yea, i hope you enjoyed if you made it this far!

[allllium]

Pinky Promise

~ This definitely ended up longer than I meant it to be but no regrets, Matt is so adorable in this.

~ Fluff, Angst but not really? More like play fighting. Reader is referred to as Matt's girlfriend but other than that gender neutral. WC: 1,939

~ Matt tells you he's Daredevil

  You have been filled with anxiety all day after a text from Matt. This morning he asked you to come to his apartment as soon as you could after work. He wouldn't say anything else about it, just that it was very important. 

  Matt has a habit of not believing he deserves good things. Throughout your relationship, you have done everything in your power to prove him wrong. But still, when he says he needs to talk to you, about something really important, your mind falls to the worst-case scenario. 

  “Matty, I'm here.” You announce as you walk into your boyfriend's apartment. 

  “Oh hey, sweetheart.” He greets you at the door, as he always does. He is the perfect gentleman. 

  “Hi.” You let out, trying not to let your anxiety be too obvious. “What did you want to talk about?” 

  He opens his mouth to say something before immediately shutting it again. “I ordered some food. It should be here anytime.” 

  “Is there a reason you're trying to change the subject?” He grabs your hands and leads you over to the couch. Sitting down, he pulls you down onto his lap. 

  “No, I'm just letting you know. I know how you get about your food.” 

  “Mhm. And is that the only reason?” 

  “I have to tell you something.” Oh no. You know what this is about. This day had to come eventually.

  “Okay, what is it?” You let out a soft sigh. It wasn't hard to figure out once you got together.

  “I don't want you to be mad at me.” 

  “Matt I won't get mad, I promise.” 

  “How do you know?” His eyes show you how worried he is. 

  “Because I love you.” You grab his hand and lean into him more. “And unless you're about to tell me that you cheated, I won't be mad.” 

  “What! I would never!” 

  “I know, baby. It was just an example.” You almost laugh at the surprised expression that covers his face. 

  “Well, you know how I became blind.” He begins.

  You were right, he's about to tell you he's Daredevil. Yes, you already know. For two reasons. One, a blind man can't do everything he does, the way he caught you when you fell on one of your dates, or the way he knows where things are without being told. Two, Foggy. He didn't mean to tell you but you had your suspicions and you may have tricked Foggy into secretly confirming for you.

  Foggy has no idea what he said allowed you to know the truth and you never told him so he wouldn't feel bad about accidentally exposing his best friend's secret. You're not proud of it but your curiosity got the best of you.

  “Yeah, I do.” 

  “Uhh, it did more than make me lose my sight.” You weren't able to confirm anything about the accident but if Matt is Daredevil then something had to have happened for it to be possible. 

  “What else did it do?” 

  “It heightened all of my other senses.” You squeeze his hand to encourage him to continue. “I can hear things from very far away and smell things better than normal.” No shit. 

  “How much better?” As much as you already know, there are a lot of specifics you still don't understand. 

  “I can smell what you have eaten all day, I can hear your heart beating and I can tell when you're making a face.” That's a lot more than you thought. “I can hear everyone in this building and mostly tell what they're doing.” 

  You immediately scramble off his lap. 

  “Did I weird you out?” The lace of sadness in his voice breaks your heart.

  “No it's not you, I'm just weirdly aware of myself now.” You assure him. You don't know how to describe it like you're going over everything you did in the day to try and figure out what Matt can tell.

  “You don't have to be, sweetheart. You're not the weird one here.” 

  “Matt, you're not weird. You're perfect. You can't control what happened to you or what it caused these senses. I don't know. You can smell me and hear me? It's just a lot.” 

  “That's not even the part I'm trying to tell you.” 

  “Matt, I have to be honest with you. I know.” You whisper. 

  “You know?” He asks in shock. “Know what?” 

  “That you're Daredevil.” Your voice grows even quieter.

  “What? How?” He exclaims, standing up to meet you. 

  “I don't know. One day I was just thinking and kinda put it together!”

  “When?” His voice booms around the small apartment.

  “A few months ago. There was this clip of Daredevil on the news and he looked so familiar so I started thinking about the injuries you get, how you disappear at night, how you can catch me when I fall. It became really obvious and then..” You stop your rant, not wanting to expose Foggy. Even though he had no idea what the conversation was about, you still feel terrible.

  “And then?” 

  “I may have tricked Foggy into confirming it for me.” Matt’s face quickly shows anger and disbelief. “I swear he has no idea I know anything, he didn't mean to confirm anything.” 

  “Why didn't you just ask me?” Is he serious right now? 

  “Because you never would've told me! We've been together for almost a year now and you're just now trusting me with this! I'm the one that gets to be pissed right now, not you!” 

  “Okay you're right I should have told you but I was just scared that..” 

  “No.” You hold your hand out and interrupt him. “I swear Matt, if the next thing you say is that you were protecting me, I will beat your ass.” 

  “That was one of the reasons, yes.” You step forward, fully intent on keeping your word. “Let me explain.” He smiles and pushes you away. 

  “Fine but it better be good.” You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows to show how serious you are. 

  “I wasn't just worried about your safety, I was worried that you would feel different about me. Maybe even leave me.” 

  “Matt, I love you. And I know you doubt yourself but I would never leave you for that. You could kill a million people and I wouldn't leave you.” 

  He gives you a very concerned look. “That's not good, we need to talk about that.” 

  “Eh.” You wave him off. “We need to talk about all this shit,” You move your hands over his body. “All this self-deprecating shit you do.” 

  “Oh well, I'm so sorry for believing you deserve the world.” He says as sarcastically as possible.

  “Exactly. Think more like that.” You nod.

  “I'm not gonna do that.” 

  “We are getting off topic.”

  “Is there more to talk about?” You can tell he's worried about you knowing the details.

  “We are one month away from our first anniversary and you're just telling me this now, that's not okay Matthew!” 

  “I know! I didn't want to wait this long but the more I thought about telling you the more I thought about losing you and I can't handle that.”

  “Wait so why did you want to tell me today? Are you okay with losing me today?” You half-joke.

  “No, because Karen told me if I didn't she would, and I know you should hear this from me.” 

  “Yeah you're right but this needed to happen forever ago!” 

  “I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, sweetheart, I know I should've. But out of curiosity, when would've been the best time to tell you?” He asks sincerely, sitting back on the couch. 

  “Why? Want advice for your next girlfriend?” You can't help but tease. Sitting back down on his lap. 

  “I'm never gonna have another girlfriend.” 

  “Oh yeah? And you're sure about that?” 

  “What does that mean?” He asks in fake concern, used to your teasing antics. 

  “I don't know. What do you think it means?” 

  “This isn't funny.” He says while he laughs. “I can't tell if you're mad at me or me.” 

  “Oh, I'm very mad.” 

  “About me being Daredevil?” 

  “No, Matty about you keeping it from me. What you do for people in danger is amazing. I love that you use your senses selflessly. I mean I hate the fact that you get hurt in the process but clearly, you can handle yourself.”

  “You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that.” 

  “I'm glad I could help. But seriously the next time you keep a secret like this for that long, we're over.” You make eye contact with him as you say this, needing him to know you're not joking. 

  “I promise I won't.” 

  “Good! Now onto that not having a next girlfriend thing?” 

  “Ugh, do we have to?” He leans back, making you yelp as you fall into him. 

  “Yes, we have to. I want to hear you say it.” 

  “It means I want to marry you.” You giggle at his words. 

  “I knew it, you're obsessed with me.” 

  “Does that mean you want to marry me too?” He asks hopefully. You almost feel bad for your next words. 

  “Hmm. I'll tell you next year.” 

  He runs his hands over his face. “You are not funny.” He says that but you can see the smile he's hiding. 

  Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Perfect timing. “You keep a secret, I keep a secret.” You shrug and head to answer the door. 

  When you go back to the couch and set the food on the coffee table, Matt pulls you into him once again. 

  “Someone's touchy today.” 

  “Just happy you're not trying to beat my ass.”

  “I would win.” 

  “Oh definitely.” You feel him smile on your neck. “Are you gonna make me wait another year to propose?” 

  ���Sorry baby but you know I don't marry someone before the second year.” 

  “You're killing me y'know.” He groans loudly in your ear, making you lean away from his ticklish breath. 

  “Maybe your next girlfriend will marry you before the first anniversary.” You yelp again as he pulls you even further into him, using his strength to make sure you're as close as possible.

  “Sweetheart you are the last girlfriend I'll ever have.”

  “Oh, I know I am.” 

  “Oh god, what does that mean?” 

  “It means if you ever have another girlfriend I'll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

  “Haunt me? Are you dead in this scenario?” He asks in obvious confusion.

  “Yes because I'm never gonna let you leave me.”

  “I'm beginning to think you're a little crazy.” 

  “Crazy about you.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

  “That was terrible.” 

  “That was amazing, I'm a great flirt.”

  “Yes, you are.” He chuckles, in that amazing deep voice. “I'm sorry for not telling you sooner.” 

  “I'm sorry for not asking you directly and using Foggy.” 

  He holds his hand out to you, sticking out his pinky.

  “What's this?” 

  “A pinky promise.” 

  “Oh, a pinky promise with the devil.”

  “Stop that, I promise not to lie to you again and you promise to ask me things instead of tricking poor Foggy.” 

  “Okay fine. Pinky promise.” You link your finger with him. 

  “I love you.” 

  “Aww thank you.” You laugh at his surprised expression. 

  “Say it back.” He whines.

  “I don't wanna.” You can't hide the smile on your face. 

  Matt takes a second to stop himself from smiling before making the biggest, most dramatic frown. 

  “Fine, I love you too.” You break out in giggles as he tackles you.

[her-devils-advocate]

In my arms is where you ought to be

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, eventual fluff

summary: In the dead of night, the anxieties that you had tried to keep bottled up have finally crept up on you. Bringing along all the thoughts you had tried to lock away with it.

Luckily for you, you're not alone.

note: Wrote this today since my own anxieties have been acting up and part of me wishes I could have my own Levi to help me through them, so I decided to settle for the 2nd best option: making it possible through fiction!

word count: 2,428

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55642015

You lie awake in bed, watching the shadows twist and turn on the flaking ceiling above. You are unsure of the time, having given up trying to chase the ever-elusive sleep hours ago. The moon hanging high above in the inky sky signals that it's still early in the morning, too early to be awake, yet the swirling sensation of panic keeps your eyes wide open.

The silence is almost deafening, a heavy weight on your ears as you strain to make out a single sound within the building full of sleeping scouts. The only sound to reveal itself to you is the frantic thumping of your heart, almost as if trying to escape from its cage of flesh and bone. You feel your hands tingle, like ants crawling under your skin before it fades to the familiar numbness you have come to know well. You sit up in the bed, finally fed up with staring into space and letting your mind run wild and as the blanket slides off your form, the bitter night air nips at your skin. You welcome the new sensation, happy to feel something other than the growing chaos within. 

Despite being surrounded by dozens of scouts, some of whom would easily relate to your current state, you have never felt more alone than in these moments. You have felt yourself drift over time, growing more and more distant from those around you until you can’t even recognise yourself in the mirror, feeling more and more like a poor imitation of the real thing. Fake smiles and practiced words have since become second nature as your heart does its best to drag you down with each frantic beat. 

You can’t remember when it started to creep up on you, but if the previous week of tearful nights has been anything to go by, it’s not a recent change. If anything, you should have expected its unwelcomed arrival, yet things had been going well recently and you had all but assumed it was gone for good. You swing your legs over the side of the bed with a small groan, bringing your hands up to rub at your face wearily. 

The room is too quiet and the beating of your heart is too loud.

Everything is suffocating and your skin feels too hot. You drag yourself out of the room, each step feeling harder than the last as you dart through the headquarters’ hallways with no goal in mind. The once familiar corridors now warp into unrecognisable labyrinths, beckoning you further into the unknown. You are unable to hold back the flood of tears that now silently pour down your cheeks, and despite your best attempt to wipe them away, they are instantly replaced with fresh tears now free from their mental prison. All you can do is hope there is no one else awake to see you in this state as you continue to pull yourself through the long corridors. 

“What gives you the right to feel this way when so many others have lost more than you?”

“They will think you’re pathetic if they were to see you in such a sorry state.”

With each passing breath, your mind grows into your own worst enemy, betraying you with stray thoughts plucked out of nowhere and perfectly aimed towards your heart. You pick up your pace, almost as if you can outrun the silent harassment.

“How did someone so unstable even get accepted as a scout?”“Titan fodder.”

The shadows of the hallway seem to follow your escape, doing their best to drag you back as you break out into a small jog. The moon watches bitterly from its position in the sky, remaining still and refusing to lower itself so the sun's forgiving rays can break through and grant you guidance.

You finally slow your pace when you reach a sign of life within the silent building and with a bated breath, you watch as candlelight escapes through the cracks in the wooden door. As you slowly approach the door, you can faintly hear the sound of a pen gliding over paper from within. Tottering on the spot, you try to gather the courage to knock, knowing who awaits behind the wooden shield between you. Despite your frantic run, your body has led you straight to the only person who can help calm your panicked state.

Your mind and heart are at war with one another as you stand alone in the cold corridor, your hand is raised to knock on the old wood and yet you can’t bring yourself to complete the action. The seconds feel like hours as you try to compel your body to let your fist connect with the door, but before you can, the choice is made for you. The door opens with a small creak and you are left gazing up into Levi’s steely eyes. You fidget under his stare, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the necessary words.

Instead, you hang your head, more than content to stare at the ground, taking in the stark difference between the dusty hallway and the pristine floor of his office. You can feel yourself shivering and you squeeze your eyes shut, as if doing so would block out the buzzing of your overactive mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” A cold finger lifting your chin causes your eyes to fly open, widening in shock as you stare at him once more. He takes in the still-damp tears that paint your cheeks and the way your chest rises and falls at a worrying pace.

His face holds the same expressionless mask, yet you have come to know how to read that mask well and can see the concern hidden deep within. 

He watches as you shift your weight from leg to leg, the unknown panic creeping up your throat and holding your jaws shut, condemning you to silence. He raises a single eyebrow before standing aside, holding the door open to you in a silent invitation before moving back to sit at his desk. 

You swiftly pad into the room, softly closing the door before manoeuvering to drop into the spare chair in front of his desk. You watch as he proceeds to pick up his pen and continue to work on the stack of papers piled neatly on the side of his desk. The quiet scratching of the pen against paper helps distract you enough for your heart to calm, no longer frantically hammering away from within, and for a moment you are convinced that you could manage to doze off within the safety of his quiet haven.

You watch as he carefully lifts his cup by the rim, bringing it to his lips with practised ease before placing it back down onto the coaster. The way he grips his cup has always confused you, yet you never thought to question it, simply narrowing it down to nothing more than a quirk of his. He catches you staring out of the corner of his eye, not once slowing in his battle against the paperwork.

“Are you ready to talk about why I happened to find you crying outside my door in the dead of night?” 

His steady voice rushes over you and you raise your knees to your chest, dragging your finger across the polished desk, drawing invisible patterns over the aged wood. With your free hand, you subtly wipe away what remains of your distress.

“It’s just… my chest hurts.” You whisper lamely as shuffle to get comfy, your hand pressed firmly against your chest while you speak.

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows rise or the way he goes rigid in his chair, “do we need to get you to the infirmary?”

Under any other circumstance, you would laugh at the confusion, yet you are far too drained and jittery to even try. You also don’t want to risk the lecture that would most certainly bring.

“No, not like that. It’s just a physical reaction to my mind, I think? I don’t know, there’s a reason I’m a scout, not a doctor.” Despite everything, that earns you a small amused scoff from Levi before you can continue, “I’ve been overthinking a lot recently… About everything and nothing at all, I don’t know, I’m a bit of a mess right now and it’s so hard to concentrate. I’m just… scared?”

“Why are you asking? It’s not like I can tell you how you are feeling.” Levi replies, silently placing the pen aside and leaning on his elbow on the desk, his head resting on his hand and giving you his full attention.

You rest your head on your knees, pulling them even closer towards you as you avert your eyes, “because I was hoping that you would have the answer.”

A small, weary sigh escapes your lips as you struggle beneath his calm stare, he is silent, letting you gather your thoughts without relying on his input to help you piece your emotions together. Your invisible drawings on his desk have ceased, instead morphing into impatient taps speeding in tempo.

“I think I might have just hit my limit, bottled up too much to save for later and later finally arrived. My chest feels like it's in a vice and I’ve been on edge more and more recently. I don’t feel like myself, I just want it to go away.” You bury your face in your hands, exhaustion fully washing over you as you finish your best attempt at explaining the tangled web of emotions swirling within you. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Levi asks, his question is quiet yet weighs heavily on you. You have always been close to him, trusting him with everything and in kind, he has always trusted you with his fair share of secrets and his past. Over time, you both came to love one another, stealing away time together whenever you could, slipping secret notes under his door when you couldn’t spend the evening curled up beside him. 

A part of you wants to blame your silence on not wanting him to see you in a different light, not wanting him to think you are weak and unfit to be a scout, let alone standing proudly at his side. But the rational part of your mind, fighting for control amidst the conflict, knows that to be lies fed to you by your current state.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you.” You finally lift your head to look into his eyes once more, the gentle glow of the candlelight reflecting within.

“Considering the fucked up world that we live in, I’m always going to worry about you.” This time he’s the one to glace away, the wax dripping down the side of the candle seeming to be a good distraction as he opens his shielded heart.

“You can always come to me. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’d prefer to have you in my sight during these moments. So I know you’re alright.”

You give a small nod, untangling yourself as you stand from the chair and move towards the small settee placed in front of the fire. Once you have gotten yourself settled on the plush fabric, you extend your hand, palm up, towards him. His eyes soften as he sits next to you, throwing one arm across the back of the chair behind you and you hear him let out a low chuckle as you shuffle closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

His arm abandons the back of the sofa, coming down to rest on your shoulder and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lightly drag his finger up and down the top of your arm. The action causes your skin to tingle beneath his touch. You take his free hand in yours and he quietly watches as you play with his fingers, the fretfulness finally beginning to fade away. 

“How’re you feeling now?” He breaks the comfortable silence, his voice becomes a murmur as he rests his cheek against your head.

“Better, I can still feel it, but it’s a lot quieter than it’s been all week now. Thank you, Levi.”

“Tch, I’ve not done anything for you to thank me, it’s not like I can control what you feel.” You give him a small giggle in response, not even needing to see his expression to know he’s rolled his eyes.

“We both know that’s a lie, Ackerman. You’re the only one who’s able to get my heart to flutter like this, just for an entirely different reason.”

You are met with a small nudge, the action causes you to gasp as he perfectly hits your ticklish spot and you retaliate by turning your head, letting your cold nose connect with the warm flesh of his neck and drawing out an unimpressed groan from the man.

“You have the worst timing when it comes to flirting.” Despite his words, you can hear the small grin in his voice, unrestrained in the privacy of his office. He wraps his arm tighter around you, pulling you onto his chest and holding you tight. You bring your intertwined hands up to rest on your chest before letting your mind melt away, enveloped in his warm embrace and surrounded by his scent, the mix of his soap and the lingering scent of tea pleasantly washing over you.

You let your eyes drift shut, your body begging for a nap, at the very least, and you feel him shuffle beneath you, his fingers flexing over your chest. 

“Is it supposed to be that fast? I thought you said it was better?” He tries to sit up to get a better look at you, but you refuse to let him, pushing him back down with a small whine so you can snuggle closer. He relents with a small grunt.

“I am feeling better, please trust me on that. It doesn’t physically hurt as much now and I feel like I’m finally able to relax for longer than five minutes at a time.” You nuzzle your face against the soft fabric of his shirt, claiming him as your bed for the night. He lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and your eyelids grow heavier and heavier when you feel his hand come to rest on the top of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair with slow strokes as he lulls you into a well-deserved sleep.

[selarina]

And I'm Asking You to Hold Me Just Like the Morning Paper

-> older brother’s best friend!Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru grew up lonely. He’s not only the freak whose mere existence altered the balance of the world, but he’s also the only one of his kind. There’s no more after or before him. There may be one, born hundreds of years from now, who will understand him, but for now, for today, he stands all alone.

But then Getou comes along, and he starts to feel like he can stand beside someone. Getou will never understand what it means to be him, but he understands him in most ways no one else does, and it thaws his heart just a little. But then he meets you, and you—you’re just the worst parts of Getou.

You understand Getou like no one does, despite your differences in looks and techniques. You have the same blood flowing through your veins, so you get him in so many ways he could never.

That’s when he starts craving for what you and Getou have, while also hating you all the same. Your mere presence has managed to single-handedly make him feel even more alone. Of course, he hates you.

He wouldn’t ever say it out loud; you're Getou’s sister, and Getou loves you more than the world itself, so he would never. But it shows—sometimes he just so forgets to pull out a seat for you.

Some days, he forgets to invite you out with the group.

Some years, he even forgets your birthday. But Getou never believes him, even if you do. Gojo remembers the day you were born so vividly; he was there alongside Getou, after all. He saw your father's hands tremble as he held you. He later saw Getou's hands do the same. It was the strangest thing.

He also got to hold you when you were born, and it was the first newborn he had held, the most insane experience he had at the age of three. So, of course, he remembers.

So one day, you grow tired of it because you grew up idolizing this man. He’s an idiot, and he’s always embarrassing himself in ways you didn’t think were possible, but he’s just so—well, he’s Gojo Satoru, right? There’s something about him.

There are so many things about him—he’s pretty good-looking for starters. Sometimes when he stands under the sun, you think he’s no short of an angel. And he has these eyes; you see them so rarely now, but when you were a child, you thought you could see the ocean in his eyes.

One time you told Getou, and he told Gojo, who wouldn’t—no, doesn’t shut up about it.

And it’s not just his looks really—one time, you saw him save not only you but 53 other people from a building that was making its way to crush you all. You could’ve moved and saved yourself, but you didn’t see the point, not when that meant living with the fact that you couldn’t save those 53 people, but things like that came easy to a man of his capabilities.

You could go on and on about how you came to form a crush on Gojo Satoru, but the fact of the matter is—your pride matters more, and you decided that after 16 years of pining after him, the least you could start doing is pick up your pride and find other options.

Your heart may not find them instantly, still slightly transfixed on the man who bleeds gold, but eventually, you think you’ll move on.

So when the popular guy from your class asks you out—you think, “Why the hell not?”

And so, you find yourself on a date with a man who’s really into furniture and protein shakes apparently. It’s all you’ve gotten out of the conversation you’ve had with him. And frankly, he doesn’t compare.

But you tell yourself over and over again, as you begin to zone out—that this is to be expected. No one compares to Gojo Satoru, a man who’s entirely too unique to supersede or replicate, so it’s only natural. It’ll take time.

So you try, the fake laughter and soft brush of your fingers. You focus on the little things and you try to beat the sleep dawning on you.

That’s when Gojo sees you. You’re wearing a blue dress that hangs just above your bruised knees. Your hair is down but slightly styled and pulled up halfway by a clip, and beside you, there’s a guy.

The guy you’re with, his hand slips around your back, ushering you into the elevator, and Gojo thinks he’s never felt something so sinister boil in his gut before. He clenches down hard on his jaw. He doesn’t understand.

Are you with this guy? No, there’s no way. Is this a random guy bothering you? If he was—he’d be on the floor, pleading for his life. So no—it can’t be.

He doesn’t think at all, really, but he rushes towards the elevator before it closes. Only when it starts to close after he gets in does he notice his date—and then he snaps out of his daze to hold the door open.

She looks surprised but joins him by his side, and now you and your date stare at him in surprise.

“Are you Gojo Satoru?” your date speaks up.

“Yeah,” he grins as he pulls his glasses down. “That’s me.”

“Can I have a picture with you? My mother practically worships you,” he continues.

And Gojo turns his attention to you, and your eyes have grown stone cold, and he immediately turns his attention back to the guy, not wanting to be subject to you staring daggers at him.

“Of course, I always have time for fans,” he maintains his grin.

“Who even are you?” he hears his date murmur, and frankly, there’s more to this story. His date wasn’t entirely a fan of his at the moment. He was late to the date, and he got caramel chocolates which she mentioned she hates. He disappeared on a bathroom break but really, he was halfway across town fighting off a curse that could’ve been taken care of by an amateur, and on his way back, he started wondering if he was really needed there or if he just wanted to leave the date.

So, yeah, when the elevator dings and the doors open up to the ground floor, he’s not entirely surprised that she’s saying goodbye, but he is surprised by this.

“Not to sound like a bitch—” she starts. “—but you need to learn how to be a better date. I understand that boys your age are slow in the brain, but it doesn’t take a genius to send a text if you’re running late.”

Just when he thinks she’s done, she’s talking again, as though she only stopped to take a breath in— “And I know that wasn’t a bathroom break, who even is gone for that long and comes back smelling like he bathed in perfume when he didn’t a moment ago. And for God’s sake, don’t go out on a date if you’re in love with your best friend's sister,” she says.

“God’s sake, what is wrong with you?” is the last thing he hears from her as she makes her way out.

“So,” your date begins. “About that photo?”

“Chimin,” you bat his shoulder. “Not now.”

“But he—”

“It’s fine, give me your phone,” Gojo says, and he’s less chipper now, although he does a good job of maintaining the facade.

He poses with a peace sign, and he pats your date on the back.

“Uh, thank you, sir,” your date says before he turns to you, his arm reaching your waist. “Shall we go? I was thinking there’s a park—”

“It’s cold out,” Gojo’s voice comes out abruptly, leaving your date’s mouth agape.

“I mean, I should probably take you home,” he says, situating himself right next to you now. “You can expect a text about that second date. What was it you said? Oh yeah, a park date. Heh,” he scoffs. “Sure.”

“So sorry,” you start. “I’ll text you. It is pretty cold, and I’d rather get home now. Thank you for the date; you were lovely,” you say with a smile before you lean in for a hug as he kissed you on the cheek.

“It’s alright. Text me when you’re home safe,” he says mirroring your smile, only his feels a little more real than yours. “I’ll wait for the text.”

So as you make your walk back home with Gojo, you pull his coat tighter around yourself. Gojo doesn't say anything as he walks beside you, and for a moment, the silence between you two is almost soothing.

You steal a glance at him, and his lips remain unreadable, his expression hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses.

"So," he finally breaks the silence, his tone light but something else lingers beneath the surface. "You're dating now, huh?"

You merely nod, trying to keep your composure. "Yeah, kinda."

Gojo smirks, and you can feel his gaze on you, "Interesting choice. He did seem more into me than he was into you if I'm being honest."

"Haha, it's a pity. I pegged him for a man with good taste, what with the Toyota Crown he promised to take me on a ride on and whatnot."

"Do we really want to go there?" he turns to you, bending down, as he smiles all in your face. "You don't want to go there."

Your heart quickens just a bit, caught between a fine line of annoyance and amusement. You tilt your head, looking back at him through narrowed eyes. "And where exactly is 'there,' Satoru?"

He chuckles. It's a low, throaty sound. " 'There' is a dangerous place, sweetheart. A place where your date, no matter how charming, can't compete with me, Gojo Satoru."

You roll your eyes at his arrogance. "Ever the egotistical maniac. You're insufferable, you know that?"

"I am?" he replies, with playful obliviousness.

As soon you approach your home, you stop in front of the door, turning as you awkwardly wave at him. "Well, um, bye."

"Bye," he replied back. He doesn't motion for you to return his jacket back, but honestly, you're disappointed in yourself. You should've asked him about what his date meant. You should've said something.

"Actually—" you start. "Do you want some tea? It's cold."

He doesn't get cold easily, he wants to say, but he'd play weaker if he could spend a millennium cooped up in your house. "Sure," he says.

He walks in, and there's silence. "No one's home?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say. "They should be back soon though."

He hums in response, through muscle memory alone, as though dragged by strings he removes and places his shoes in the rack. The same place he's been placing them for years. And then, he blindly follows you down to the kitchen.

The kitchen is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the small hanging lamp above the kitchen slab. You set the kettle on the stove, the sound of its soft whistle filling the room as it begins to heat up. Gojo takes a seat at the table, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on its surface.

You busy yourself with preparing the tea, the gentle rustle of tea bags as you move them. There's a muted grassy smell that's emanating from the tea, but it's not strong enough to overwrite all the tension in the air, a lingering curiosity that just won't leave you alone.

"So," Gojo begins, breaking the silence. "That guy, you really going to go on a second date with him?"

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze. "I don't know. Maybe. He's nice."

He smirks, leaning back in the chair. "That's nice."

"What about you? How did your date go? You know apart from terrible," you grin.

"Well, it was also 'horrible'," he says, mirroring your grin.

"Date with Gojo and horrible. Seems about right," you say.

"Oh, come on. It was an off-day. I can be a very good date," he says.

"Why was she so mad then?" you ask. "Your date."

"Well, I'm sure you heard most of it," he starts, truly wanting to know if you did, but your expression remains muted. He can't tell, but it seems obvious. It's why he's here and not halfway back home, after all. "But I, uh, I got her caramel chocolates."

You wait.

"She hates caramel," he adds with a small pout.

"Ah, smooth. I've changed my mind about you, Gojo Satoru, you would make the best date ever."

He grins. "Thank you, kindly."

Your tea seems about done, so you reach up, opening the cabinet, but the classes are placed too far back for your height. And generally, you'd pull a chair and get the cups, but before you could, Gojo's right behind you, reaching for it before you could move back. He pulls out two cups, one plain pink one with hearts and another white mug with a bear on it. His and yours.

It reaches the slab with a soft clink, but before Gojo can move away, you speak up, "So, what did she mean?"

"What are you talking about?" He asks, plainly.

"You know," you say, stressing, as you turn to face him. You're so close to him now, but he doesn't move back. For once, he doesn't move back. You gulp, "You know what, Satoru."

"I don't," he says. His grin is gone, and his lips are in a line. You've never truly seen him this way.

"Bullshit, what did she mean by 'you like your friend's sister'?" you almost half-yell.

"Ignore her. She was just talking nonsense because she was mad at me."

"Was she, though?" you press, studying his expression more closely now.

He resigns with a sigh, as he begins to move. "Yes. Now, drop it."

"No," you say, as your hand comes up to hold his own. "So, she was just making it up?" you ask, incredulously.

"Yes," he says.

"And you don't like me?" you ask. This time, you move closer to him, his lips practically a few centimeters away from yours.

"Look, it doesn't matter what she said. I was just trying to save your date, be a good friend to your brother, and all that."

You scoff, trying to mask the lingering disappointment. "Save my date? By ruining it completely?"

"How did I ruin it?" he asks.

"Oh? I don't know, the same way you always ruin things for me. Just by showing u—"

And that's all it took, really. For his lips to meet yours. His hands find themselves on your hips as yours rest on your shoulder and his chest. Your lips move roughly against his. It's not like any of those soft first kisses you see on TV. This one feels like yearning. You feel it in your heart and in the way your arms tug his body into your own.

When he pulls off, you feel strangely disappointed.

"I'm serious. If you didn't show up, that could've gone somewhere," you say. A little proud of yourself for not giving in so easily.

"Gone where exactly? The park? You know you deserve more than the fucking park."

"What? Sure, I wouldn't end up married to this guy, but does it matter? I was moving on," you say with a shrug.

"Moving on from what exactly?" he asks.

"From you, obviously stupid."

Gojo's expression shifts, a mixture of surprise and something else, something you can't quite read. Your grip on his hand tightens just a bit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

"Moving on from me?" he finally repeats, his voice softer than before.

"Yeah, Satoru, from you." You pull your hand away, breaking the contact.  "It's about time, isn't it?"

The kettle on the stove whistles, signaling that the water is ready for the tea, but neither of you moves to attend to it.

"Look," he starts, his tone serious, "I didn't mean to mess up your date. I was just trying to have some fun and play the hero for a bit. I didn't think you'd actually be interested in that guy."

"Well, you thought wrong," you reply, crossing your arms. "I was giving it a shot, trying to move on. But you can't resist bringing everything back to you, can you?"

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it through." His shoulders slump a bit, and he runs a hand through his hair as his head falls onto your shoulder. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you with someone else."

"So, your date wasn't wrong then?" you say.

"Yeah," he says, and you feel the breath of his words on your neck. "I guess, she wasn't."

The kettle continues to whistle, now completely forgotten in the background.

"I don't believe you," you say.

"What?" he looks up now, his eyes looking at your face. "I just told—"

"You can tell me whatever you want," you say, frustrated. "But you don't even remember my birthday. How could you like me if—"

"I remember," he says. "I remember your birthday."

"But you—"

"I know, I know, baby." His hands come up to hold your cheek. "It's stupid, but I guess I was scared. It's stupid and not an excuse. But of course, I remember your birthday. I could never forget."

"Scared?" you repeat. "Scared of what, Satoru?"

"It's not that simple. You're Getou's sister. I can't just..."

"Can't just what?" you challenge, even if his thumb moving against the supple of your cheek thaws your heart red. "You can't just admit that maybe, just maybe, I'm worthy of being liked by you?"

"It's not that," he sighs, frustration evident in his expression. "It's complicated, okay? I didn't want to complicate things between us. I didn't want to risk our— whatever it is that we have between us."

"I get it," you say, a few moments later to his surprise and your own.

"You do?"

"Yeah," you say, reaching up to leave a soft kiss on his lips. Soft. Delicate. Like your touch could break him. "I do. I really do, and we'll figure it out, okay?"

His ears perk up as he turns, and the soft purring of the car engine comes to a halt. He can't believe he didn't notice your parents pulling in with your brother.

Your hands reach out to hold his own, and he realizes that they're trembling, just a little. And he gets it now. To love is to be afraid.

[changbeansss]

Summer love

Pairings : Bang Chan x reader

Genre : Angst, hurt/comfort (hopeful ending)

Warnings : mentions of break up but they get back together again

Word count : 2528

A/n : highly inspired by the song 'Summer love' by One Direction

The summer sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the small beach town where you had spent the past three months. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was a comforting background to the heart-wrenching moment unfolding before you.

Chris was standing by the door of the small beach house you had shared, his suitcase packed and ready. His eyes, usually so full of life and mischief, were now clouded with sadness. You were trying so hard not to cry, but the tears were threatening to spill over. This was the best summer of your life, and now it was ending in the worst way possible.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris looked down, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t want to go, but I have to. We knew this day would come.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the sobs at bay. “I know. Just… don’t promise that you’ll call. Just promise you won’t forget we had it all.”

He finally looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I promise. I’ll never forget. You were mine, for the summer.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of the goodbye pressing down on you. It felt like snow in September, an unseasonable cold that chilled you to the bone. But you knew you would always remember this summer, and the love you shared.

“Wish that we could be alone now,” you said, a hint of desperation in your voice. “We could find some place to hide, make the last time just like the first time.”

Chris shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Don’t say that. It’ll only make it harder.”

You nodded, tears finally spilling over. “Just promise you’ll remember when the sky is gray.”

He stepped closer, pulling you into a tight hug. “I will. You’ll always be my summer love.”

The goodbye was agonizing, but eventually, Chris pulled away and walked out the door. You watched him leave, feeling like your heart was breaking into a million pieces.

---

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. The vibrant colors of summer faded into the muted tones of autumn. You tried to move on, but the memories of that summer haunted you. Every sunset, every wave crashing against the shore, reminded you of Chris.

One chilly September day, you found yourself back at the beach. The sky was gray, just like you had feared. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the cold.

“Hey, stranger.”

You turned around, your heart skipping a beat. Chris was standing there, a warm smile on his face.

“Chris?” you whispered, unable to believe your eyes.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, stepping closer. “I realized there’s nothing I want to change. I don’t want to move on. I want you.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight into a warm hug. “You’ll always be my summer love. And now, we can make it last forever.”

As you stood there in his embrace, you knew that the summer love you thought was lost had found its way back to you. And this time, you wouldn’t let it go. It was all written in the stars.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Guerriero

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Victor, Kevin and the rest of the band eventually, Bobby, Donna, and faceless Uber drivers

Word Count: 1978

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, hardcore jealousy, self loathing, funneling rage as productively as possible

Series Masterlist

It shouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, any other day and any other hand on the small of your back, he wouldn’t have even looked twice. But there was Donna and Jody’s manager guiding you out of the way of traffic, all smooth and handsome and available.

Dean couldn’t look away. He stood in the kitchenette on the bus, forgetting he was looking for some painkillers for his damn head when everything just stopped making sense. He watched as the both of you smiled and talked all the way up to the employee entrance, security passes in hand.

Goddamn Vic.

Instantly, Dean knew it was his fault. If he hadn’t let this thing with Bela go on this long, he might have been able to have a shot with you. If he hadn’t needed the reputation ‘Hail Mary’ that was dating Bela in the first place, maybe he’d have had the freedom to date whoever he wanted sooner. And maybe, if he hadn’t let Bela stay in his room the night before instead of bunking with you, you wouldn’t have been being chatted up alone by the opener’s manager.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Dean slammed the cabinet closed and dropped onto one of the benches surrounding the table. His head fell into his hands and he tried to get a grip.

Breathe, damnit. 

He needed to breathe.

He had no right to be this pissed. You didn’t owe him anything. Least of all your loyalty. But god had he gotten used to it. Had even grown to expect it.

He started humming ‘Enter Sandman’ and let his breathing match the off beat of the rhythm. 

Somebody cleared their throat. Dean looked up to see a saucer-eyed Kevin staring at him and then looking everywhere else once he got caught.

“You good, man?”

“No.” Dean rubbed his eyes and put his head back down.

He would not punch another keyboardist. He would not punch another band member. Not even Sam.

Sam.

Where was that overgrown hair commercial when he needed him, anyway?

Kevin, God bless him, was still there. “Do you need anything?”

Dean needed to just fucking get it together.

“Can you find my brother for me, please?” Dean wiped his hand down his face. “Just find Sam.”

“On it.” Kevin had his phone out and was walking off the bus before Dean could even mutter his thanks.

Dean stayed on the bus. He didn’t know why, but it felt safest to not be in public. And to not risk seeing you or Victor again and therefore lose the last semblance of sanity he had left.

Several murder plots and a discarded flannel later, Sam’s text buzzed in Dean’s pocket.

He wasn’t even fucking at the venue yet.

Dean threw his phone at the driver’s seat headrest and miraculously it didn’t break.

He breathed again. He counted them harder.

He had tools to get out of this spiral. Missouri told him he could do it on his own. Breathing wasn’t working. But he could put this energy to use, he didn’t need to let it win.

What he did need was to get out of there.

Dean had no idea what, if anything, was said during his Uber ride home. Whatever, he’d rate the guy a five later. He’d tip like the fucking millionaire he was. 

But right now he just wanted to hit something.

The speed bag was too flimsy, too annoying for what had been building inside him for over an hour. Something he had held back on a simmer as long as he could. He didn’t take the time to wrap his knuckles, but he did shove his hands into the first pair of gloves he found, cushioning the worst of potential injuries.

The slap of the punching bag against his gloves was a forgotten clarity.

One-two

One-two

One-two, jab jab

Uppercut

Dean fully exhaled and recentered. 

One-two

One-two-three

One

One

One-two

He knew the anger was at himself. At his past actions and their consequences. But that knowledge didn’t help the force or scope of the emotion dwindle. Dean had always been his worst enemy. And he was damn good at it.

One

One-two

One

One-two-three

He tried to bounce on his feet, his bulky boots weighed down more than he liked. At least his logical brain was rebooting.

One-two

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He ignored it.

One

One

One-two

One-two-three

One-two

One-two

One-two-three

Dean punched until his knuckles ached and his back screamed at his terrible stance. Eventually he dropped the gloves and moved to the free weights. The rage left him slowly and then all at once.

Exhaustion hit him sometime after six o’clock, when he sat down and braved looking at his phone.

He didn’t open his messages or listen to any of the voice mails. Instead he called Sam and told him he was on his way, without detail or apology and then promptly hung up.

The Uber back took twice as long.

He still tipped.

“The fuck you been, boy?!” Bobby said before Dean could clear the service elevator. “We got people going out of their minds looking for you.”

Bobby had to book it to keep time with Dean’s pace at his age, but he was pissed enough not to say anything about it.

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to get my head on straight.---- Uh, anybody rat me out to the suits?” 

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I have a death wish to you?” “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby huffed. “Yeah, well, you better kiss and make up with those girls. They were worried about your sorry ass, too. But first—”

“Dean Michael Winchester.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned on his heels, better to face the firing squad than to wait for the first bullet to break the skin.

“Pammy.”

“Do not. No. Do not ‘Pammy’ me. Answer your damn phone, asshole.”

Dean didn’t answer, he just walked up to her, looked into her piercing eyes, and waited her out. She exhaled and then stepped back, while looking him over.

“You good?” She held up his right hand to show she saw his raised knuckles.

“I’m good.”

“And the other guy?”

“Hanging in the rec room at home.”

Pam pursed her lips like she was ‘oh’ing at him and grinned. “That could be very kinky, but I catch your drift.”

“Who else I need to make nice with?”

Pam dropped her chin and glared. “Everybody.”

“But I think you should start with Trouble— or Charlie. Then maybe your girlfriend? Remember her? She’s not happy with you either.”

Oh, joy.

“Wait— what time is it? Isn’t Charlie already in the booth?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear that? Jody’s girls are on stage, genius,” Bobby broke in.

“Okay, lemme check in with Sam and see if I can find Trouble before we gotta set up.”

Dean felt Pam and Bobby share a look as he walked away, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to overthink anything at that point. Christ, somebody better have a friggin’ energy drink or he was gonna crash, hard.

Show number two was off to an amazing start.

If Dean survived this tour, he was giving himself a vacation. 

If.

Dean rushed through his warm ups. He chugged a Gatorade because he didn’t want to pass out on stage and polished it off with a 5 hour energy he got off of Kevin. Everybody was surprisingly cool once he arrived and got situated. Something told him it was because he was stone cold sober, but they had seen him at his worst. Everyone knew this was just a bump in the road, not a pitfall. Or so he hoped.

Annie gave him a hug and warned him not to scare her like that again.

With Charlie in the booth, who got only a cursory update over the walkies, that left you. But you had Bela in the VIP for that night’s show, which saved him another round of explanations and apologies, for the time being.

The dressing room was filled with activity, from Sam doing his hair and Pam doing Kevin’s eye liner to Lee putting on deodorant and Annie doing vocal runs in the corner. Dean threw on a fresh shirt before making sure his earpiece was in and his personal mic was secured. His hair was still damp since he threw it under a ball cap after showering at home one last time before they hit the road.

He coated his fingers in gel and played with it until it was close to his usual subtle peak.

“You all pretty enough, yet? Need ya out there, yesterday,” Bobby bellowed and held the door as everyone scrambled to head backstage.

The sounds of the fans sending off SPS thundered above them. Dean inhaled against the familiar anticipation squeezing his insides. As they snaked through the crew and the equipment, the stadium hummed with people milling about, hitting the restroom, or grabbing more drinks before they took the stage.

It felt good to be the headliner. Dean didn’t take that for granted. And if in ten or fifteen years they're no longer relevant and they end up playing county fairs or opening for the next big thing, Dean thinks he’d still do it. Because it’s not about his ego, it’s about giving a good show. About sharing something he made with somebody, the exchange of art, the experience of it. 

Being seen and heard, even in small increments, was so necessary to who he had become.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Donna shrieked in surprise as the two bands passed each other. Dean couldn’t do anything but give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know— I’ll see ya later.”

“Oh, you!” She shoved him playfully and let Dean get up on stage. There was never any bad blood there, even if he had them worried too.

Everything was right where it was supposed to be, and Dean slipped his guitar strap on, and got ready to rock. Second night setlists were almost negatives of the ones they planned for first nights. Not that many people could afford to go to both shows, but nonetheless they switched it up even if it was for their own sanity’s sake.

The lights came up and Sam and Dean started the opening riff and just as Dean’s voice broke through the speakers, Charlie cut the lights. “Black” was a tune they had played with a lot over the years, but never something they’d opened with. The fans shrieked over the opening line and then spots shot out over each of them as the song pushed on, churning together into something darker.

Lee held the last chord and the lights all came back up to ruckus applause.

Dean exhaled and braced himself for the next song. He hadn’t spoken to you about it since he sent you the album files, months ago now. Charlie eased the lights back into something more pensive and he centered up on the stage.

“Alright, so you might have heard we shared some of the new stuff with the folks last night.” He paused to let the crowd reply. “But, this one is new to everybody, lemme know whatcha think, alright?”

They started off with Pamela’s count, everyone together, united for ‘Pushing Through’. He thought about all those nights you called him just to check in, with nothing to say, besides just being your caring, thoughtful self. He closed his eyes to the thousands of people in front of him, even to those in the pit whose phones were all glaring at his face, and sang like you were the only person who would hear him.

He just wanted you to listen to him and everything he couldn’t say.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

Chapter 29: Obbligato

[geekgirles]

Liar Revealed

So Marinette and Sabrina worked together to lure Lila into a false sense of security that eventually led up to her spilling everything in front of an audience she was unaware of. Now everyone knows she’s been lying about everything, she’s a horrible person, and she and Chloé are about to be expelled for good... After 7 years, the fandom finally got what it wanted.

...then why do I feel like I’ve actually wasted those 7 years of my life? 

Buckle up, ‘cause this is going to be a long ride.

As someone who’s been eagerly awaiting for Lila to be exposed since Volpina, a feeling that only grew with each passing episode she’s been featured in, I honestly find this development wholly underwhelming, highly disappointing, even. 

Maybe I’m too vindictive, who knows, but this in no way feels like proper comeuppance for a character who’s been maliciously manipulating everyone around her and relishing in other people’s misery since she was first introduced.

First and foremost, because having Lila accidentally reveal herself while gloating is too much of a cliché. I’ve seen people before mentioning how Lila exposing herself seemed to be the only way this could go, seeing as Marinette’s best attempts always seemed to fail. But if we ignore for a second this was actually set up by Marinette and Sabrina, with the way it’s handled it just feels like a kick in the gut, not the overwhelming catharsis I’m sure most of us were expecting. 

Because, and this is actually my main problem with the execution, by having Lila expose herself by spouting a self-satisfied tirade of every single lie she’s ever told and people have believed without question as she disparages Sabrina’s attempts to take her down, saying how she could easily turn everyone against her, the narrative is actually framing Lila in the right.

When we as the audience know it shouldn’t be like that. 

Lila only really upped her game in season 5 (and even then the writers still rely too much on the characters being dumbed down around her for it to work), up until then all her lies would have been easily discreditable if the writers didn’t need the class and everyone in Paris to believe her for her schemes to work!

From our perspective, Lila is nowhere near as formidable as she presents herself to be. Which, admittedly, goes in line with her consistent characterisation (about her only consistent trait aside from being hateful and a liar) that she believes and presents herself to be more special than she actually is. But the problem is no character other than Marinette, Adrien, and now Sabrina ever learnt of this fact! Maybe now that she’s exposed herself, but with the way she gloated about all her plans going off without a hitch...

Which leads us to another reason this was the worst possible execution of Lila being exposed they could have come up with:

It was a stroke of luck.

That’s it. That’s unquestionably what it was. Because hadn’t Sabrina finally grown a spine and drawn the line with the actions she was willing to commit for Chloé’s sake, Marinette would have had no way of knowing of Lila’s plan and preparing accordingly. 

Really, the only positive thing I can say about it is that it could maybe count as character development for Marinette since she finally learned she needed to be as sneaky as Lila if she wanted to take her down. And there’s of course the fact that Sabrina finally broke away from Chloé. Other than that? It’s a fairly sombre scenario, really. 

Because, again, Marinette didn’t manage to finally beat Lila because she had a strong support network (which would have painted a very symbolic and meaningful picture showcasing how, for all the superficial attention her lies can get her, in reality, Lila will always be alone as long as she doesn’t put in the genuine effort to reach out to others like Marinette does), but because she had outside help. Again, help she couldn’t have accounted for until Sabrina herself reached out to her. 

Relating to my previous point, Marinette never got Alya to even believe her about Lila or at the very least question how genuine she was until Lila spelled it out for her. Even though she’s known her best friend is Ladybug for months, which brings forth the question if letting Alya in on Marinette’s secret ended up being even worth it if the writers refuse to have her help her out where it matters (I’ll be sure to go back to this point in a minute, just you wait). 

What else? Oh, I know! How about the fact that, for a season that was supposed to be all about Adrienette winning, the writers purposely robbed us of that Adrienette vs Lila alliance we were promised back in Chameleon, huh? Because Adrien was completely left out of the plan. In fact, ever since Ladybug back in season 3, he hasn’t been allowed to do anything to help Marinette against Lila. As with the Ladynoir conflict in season 4, his relevance all but vanished even though he was a central part of the conflict from seasons 1-3. 

Even better! When he finally spoke up about Lila to Nino and Alya, arguably his best friends besides Ladybug, they completely brushed his concerns off as him just agreeing with Marinette out of boyfriend obligation! I didn’t know intangible things could slap me in the face, but boy was I wrong!

And the best part? This complete disregard of his feelings, lack of communication, and their assuming they know better than him (which disturbingly parallels to his own relationship with Gabriel...) is certainly never going to be explored, let alone resolved. 

What do I mean with all this?

Well, basically that for a show that’s supposed to promote the power of love, friendship, and teamwork, when it comes to Lila Marinette is all alone. Has been since Volpina. 

But at least that’s done with, Lila got her just desserts, and we’re never going to have to deal with her ever again...

SIGH

Except, not really. Not at all, in fact. 

Because just as she and Chloé were finally being reprimanded for their actions, Mr. Damocles had to choose that of all moments to realise he failed as a principal, attract an akuma, cause a racket, and provide Lila with the perfect distraction to just...walk away unscathed. 

And with the reveal that she actually has more identities, social circles, and opportunities to lie and manipulate to fall back to after being expelled from the Françoise-Dupont...Let’s just say it implies that while Marinette (and the audience) had to endure nothing short of psychological torture, Lila never really had anything to lose.

Now I ask you...how the Hell am I supposed to consider that a satisfying, cathartic resolution to that particular arc?!?!?!?

And if you permit me, there is one more thing I’d like to get off my chest. 

Alya’s reaction to this.

After learning the truth she rushes to hug Marinette and apologise, being a clear wreck about it. And while Marinette getting an apology once in a blue moon is always a welcomed thing, once again the writers aim and completely miss their shot. Because Alya apologises for being gullible. 

Look, back in seasons 1 and 2, Hell, even back in season 3, I could have overlooked this. Yes, she never listened to Marinette, could be a tad hypocritical, and the whole jealous thing got old and annoying fast, but at least she couldn’t know for certain Lila was bad news. But from season 4 onwards Alya no longer has such an excuse. No, from season 4 onwards Alya’s problem isn’t that she’s gullible, it’s that she willingly and repeatedly chose to blatantly ignore all of Marinette’s suspicions and warnings regarding Lila. Even after Adrienette finally became canon and Marinette had realistically no reason to feel jealous of Lila in any way, shape or form, Alya still couldn’t fathom that, perhaps, her best friend had her reasons for disliking Lila besides a love triangle. 

The moment Alya learned Marinette is Ladybug, the two should have been allowed to talk about Lila, about the real reason Marinette hates her, and to work together to overcome this issue and bring her down. How do you expect me to be okay with season 5 opening to these two having daily sleepovers to talk about Marinette’s love life, but not a single second could be spared after Illusion to have Alya question why Marinette hates her so much, if not connect the dots herself since she is Ladybug’s best friend, not Lila, and Ladybug hates her?

I’ve seen people justify this saying it’s been a long time since Lila lied about being Ladybug’s best friend, and while I’ll argue the last time it was mentioned was actually Chameleon, not Volpina, I could see your point. Except that is not just another lie, like her claiming she knows Jagged Stone or Prince Ali. No, that is the lie that started everything.

It was because Lila lied about knowing Ladybug to impress everyone, especially Adrien, that Marinette completely lost it and chewed her out for it in front of him. It’s because of that lie and the consequent reaction it got from Ladybug that Lila even developed a grudge in the first place. It’s because of that lie that Marinette ever found out about Lila being a liar, because before she first lied to Adrien about being close to Ladybug, Marinette was panicking because she had no chance against someone as incredible as her. If she hadn’t lied about knowing Ladybug, Marinette would have been as fooled by her as everyone else and the two might have never really come to blows.

So don’t tell me it was never brought up because it was so long ago and it doesn’t matter anymore, when that particular lie carries so much weight and we all know the real reason they couldn’t have Alya in Marinette’s corner is because the writers know Lila needs everyone around her to follow her blindly for her lies to work and everything to always work out in her favour because otherwise she just doesn’t work as a villain.

TL;DR: If you want a good resolution to the Lila Gets Exposed plot, pick literally any fanfic dealing with this exact premise. It’ll be better, I promise.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 4

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

August 1982

Gareth taps the wooden drumsticks to the tune of his own beat against his denim clad knee. Tossing the sticks up and into the air, his plan is to catch them and pose like a real rockstar. He does not catch them. Instead, they spin for a minute then bop him in the head, before flinging across his mother's garage that they use for band practice nearly every day.

“Quit fooling around, Gareth,” Jeff snickers at his friend, while bending over his guitar to toy with the strings. Nothing sounds as clean as a freshly tuned guitar.

“Where’s your friend?” Gareth throws out at Eddie.

Eddie’s dealt with the poisoned attitudes from the both of you for far too long. It’s rare that you and Gareth get along, but you put up with each other for Eddie’s sake. It’s sad, honestly. Eventually, Eddie wants you to become friends with his band mates. You like Jeff and you like Grant just fine. Neither of them you shared a single common interest, so what is the tiff between you and Gareth?

“Come on, man,” Eddie’s down to groveling for a solution at this point, “you said you would try today.”

“Why can’t we be friends?” Jeff sings smoothly into the microphone while striking a harmonious chord to chime along with his interpretation of the song that has plagued his mind for the past week by the band War. Besides, that was funny. Jeff laughs into his microphone.

“Shut up, Jeff,” Gareth grumps.

Jeff shrugs his shoulders, “mic check.”

“Is she even going to show up?” Gareth stands to search for where his drumsticks have gone. Each of them have made a fair distance across the garage.

“She’ll be here,” Eddie says a bit more testy than before. There’s only so much he can put up from his young friends.

“What’s your deal with his girl, anyway?” Jeff is the newest of the bunch. Gareth introduced him to Eddie, after they became partners for a project in school.

“She’s not my girl,” Eddie snorts as though the image is completely impossible. “She’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, haven’t heard that one before,” Jeff mutters into the microphone.

Eddie points, “tune your guitar.”

Gareth sees you at school. You’re in some of the same classes. In the next few weeks, you’ll be in the same high school. He absolutely cannot get away from you. Everywhere he goes, you’re there. It’s the same with Eddie. You follow him around too.

If that isn’t enough, you’re joining band practice now. This is your first one, since Eddie has convinced Gareth to play nice. Maybe you’re important to Eddie, and maybe he cares a bit too much. It doesn’t matter though.

You’re turning into the driveway of the address that Eddie gave you this morning. Kicking out your feet to stop your bike from peddling into the garage, you throw out the kick stand and you swing your leg over the seat.

“Hey, guys!” You wave.

Eddie jumps out of his seat to great you warmly. The two of you exchange pleasantries, while Gareth finds more interest in the way his drum set is designed.

There are a few thoughts passing between Gareth’s ears, while the heart inside of his chest furiously pumps blood. You’re taller than the girl he saw at the beginning of the summer. All of your hair and your skin have become bronzy from the sun. Whatever summer camp you spent your whole summer at, he wishes that you would go back and that you would stay there.

“Hi, Gareth,” you're holding up your end of the bargain that you made with Eddie about being nice to Gareth.

Gareth does look up. His face flushes white as cream. You’re a bit taken aback by how he looks at you. The same Gareth you left behind in this town is the same one sitting in front of you.

“Uh,” Eddie turns you away, but not before shoot Gareth the most gruesome glare. If only Gareth could apologize, yet he’s lost his words somehow. They glaze over the tip of his tongue, while getting lost in the back of his throat. But, Eddie guides you to a set of folding chairs that were used for Emerson family camping trips. “Let’s have you sit here.”

“Should I be here?” You mutter lowly enough to hit Eddie’s ear.

Eddie clears his throat and then hikes up his jeans from falling down his waist. There’s no telling what goes through Gareth’s mind, and he’s got virtually no idea how to put you at ease.

“He’s shy,” Eddie hopes you’ll by it.

You’re rolling your eyes at his lame excuse, but when you sigh that’s when Eddie knows you’ll let it go for now.

Eddie spins like a top and makes a beeline for Gareth. He’ll spin that little shit’s head in a minute!

“Gareth,” Eddie growls lowly, so you can’t hear. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Jeff mutters, “I think I know.”

“Why do you care if we get along?” Gareth says over Jeff's nonsense. “Can’t she just come to a show?”

“Do you really want her at your cousins fifth birthday party, while we sing happy birthday?” Eddie knows he can’t say ‘yes’ to that. Hell, Eddie doesn’t want you there. You’re his number one supporter, and if you catch his metal band singing to a bunch of five year olds? Oh, he’ll never live that down.

Gareth peers around his tall friend because he knows he can’t see over that irritatingly large head of his. You’re fussing with a lawn chair that won’t unfold if you don’t take your thumb away from the latch.

In an act of peace, Gareth walks around Eddie making a big show of exactly what he’s doing. He helps you. Specifically, he unfolds the chair and brushes the dirt off of the seat for you. Avoiding your big eyes that could swallow anyone up like a siren, Gareth waltzes back to his drum set.

“Can we begin our practice now?” Gareth slams his drumsticks together, while counting off the beat.

Their music isn’t to your taste. In fact, sometimes you want to find an excuse to walk away from all the noise. Yet, you stay put where you’ve sat yourself. Smiling and nodding along to each song, you give your critics during the break period between each song.

The boys are admittedly good, albeit a bit tone deaf. Although, if you perform like them for hours, you wouldn’t be able to hear much after a while either.

It’s weird.

Eddie keeps turning his head to Gareth, who has a spiteful grimace written along his face. Had they argued before their practice? It’s tough to tell because Eddie has an enthusiastic way of speaking to people these days. He loves to press any buttons on your brain that could make you tick.

You’re quite used to his theatrics being that you live across from each other. This is the first time, however, you’ve gone away for so long.

Camp had been fun. You signed up alongside Robin, and when you got there you had met Chrissy Cunningham. She’s your age. She went to middle school with you, and is transferring into high school just like you. The three of you bonded over the many activities at the sleep-away camp.

It became bittersweet to come home. Playing with a group of boys didn’t seem as fun as getting your nails painted, which is what Chrissy suggested you all do when you get home. Flicking at your dead nail beds, you rest your gaze upon the hair popping up on your legs. Squeezing your skirt as low as it could go, your cheeks redden a bit.

You’ll give Chrissy a call after practice is over.

It comes to an end a little over an hour later, and you clap your hands to their final bow as a band. You cheer on for an encore that wouldn’t come.

Eddie chest rises and falls when he laughs. There was a time during their practice that Eddie ripped off his shirt when he had soiled the material with sweat. That sweat that now glistens across his tummy. You find yourself watching a bead of sweat slick down his chest and across his stomach, before nestling into the hair down there.

While Eddie doesn’t see you watching him closely because he’s too deep into a conversation with Jeff about chords, Gareth does catch what you're doing. This is what he worries about. You’re too involved.

You snap out of your trance, and you announce to the boys, “I should get going. I have plans to meet up with someone today!”

Eddie whips his head around, “do you need a ride?”

Your heart thuds.

Eddie has his license now, and he's always offering to take you places (he offered to take you places when he didn’t have his license too). But, your mom’s warning rang clear in your head. If she caught you in his van, you might be banished from ever seeing him again.

After she lost her job, she spent more time alone with her thoughts. If she’s not sleeping the morning away, she’s peering out the kitchen window with a cigarette between her lips or resting between her fingers.

When you got back from camp, she puffed at you like a dragon protecting her treasures. She spent a hell of a time inspecting you for something. You’re not really sure what she wanted from you. You’re still a bit on edge.

The last thing you need right now is for Eddie to bring you home.

“I’m alright,” you swear.

-> <-

[Sep 1982]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Angel

Kid (Monkey Man) x Y/N - drabble - 744 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: very fluffy, minor mention of injuries, strangers to lovers, very cute, nothing really to give warnings about

—————————————————

You had no idea how you ended up here. Allowing a stranger into your home, a bruised and bloodied one at that. He laid on your couch, slipping in and out of consciousness. You laid a damp rag over his forehead before you knelt next to him, bandaging his hands as gently as possible. Yet even when you popped his dislocated fingers back into place he didn’t even flinch. Something in your gut told you he was used to hurt, to pain. His eyes are what caught your attention when you found him slumped against your apartment building wall in the busy streets of Yatana. Big and round and soft - pleading for help. He was like a lost puppy, you couldn’t leave him alone. As soon as you hooked his arm over your shoulder he started walking with you as best he could, his feet dragging with every step. And now here you were, gazing at him as he slept. He looked so peaceful despite the blood that covered him. You couldn’t help but fret over him, staying close in case the worst happened and he stopped breathing. Something came over you as you watched the pale moonlight glide over his skin, you let your fingers gently trace over his face and hair. His face softened while he slept, aching for a kind touch. Yet when you traced over his lips a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, his big brown eyes looking at you cautiously.

“Who are you? Where am I?” he asked, attempting to sit up but failing due to his aching ribs. 

You held his cheek instinctively to show him you weren’t a threat, “I’m Y/N and you’re in my apartment… you were bleeding outside…” was all you could muster to say. 

“I could be dangerous,” he said.

You smiled at that, “I know, but so could I.” 

He gave a slight chuckle before releasing your wrist. “Give me a second and I’ll go…” he said, taking a few deep breaths before trying to get up once more.

“Please stay until morning. If not for your health then for my piece of mind. I can’t send you back out on the streets like this.” you said, holding one of his hands and encouraging him to lay back down with your other hand on his chest.

For once in his life, he listened. “You don’t have to stay out here with me… I hate to be a burden.” he said, looking down with an air of guilt about him.

You waved him off, “Nonsense! Here, this way we can both be comfortable.” you moved to tweak the bottom of your couch, raising it slightly to turn it into a pull out bed. You quickly fetched two pillows and two blankets from your bedroom before returning to the living room.

His face held so much confusion; the whole situation was odd. Somebody being so kind to him, somebody trying to make him feel less pain. You fluffed the pillow before raising his head slightly and sliding it under. You draped the blanket over him before laying next to him with a good distance between you two. “Goodnight…” you said, questioning his name.

“Kid.” he mumbled.

“Goodnight Kid.” you said. You watched as his eyes flutter closed, watching as his face relaxed and his breaths evened out. 

Eventually your eyes did the same.

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

You woke up to a sun beam across your face. You groaned slightly, holding your hand up to cover your eyes. You felt heavier than usual, looking down you found the culprit. Kid’s arm was slung snuggly across your waist, holding you close to his chest. You could feel his breaths on your neck, giving you goosebumps. You managed to twist yourself around in his grasp, your face resting against his chest. His muscles felt so relaxed around you, like he felt safe with you. And for some reason… you felt safe with him too. You cautiously laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat slowly. You breathed him in, slowly cuddling into his chest before letting yourself fall asleep again.

Kid glanced down at you, his eyes barely cracked open, as soon as he was sure you were asleep he placed a soft kiss on your head, drawing lazy circles into the skin of your arm. He had no idea where you came from or why you helped him, all he knew was you were an angel.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I rewatched Monkey Man for the millionth time (its such a comfort movie at this point) so I thought I'd write a little something for our favorite guy! XOXXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!

[cherubcameron]

I love you, I’m sorry

Rafe x Sofia

Authors note: this might be a little meta, but reader is in this. She’s not romantically linked to either Rafe and Sofia in this one. So this is almost like an au where she’s just Sofia’s pogue friend. Can yall tell I really like the whole singing thing.. also I won’t lie to yall. My mental health has decline by a lot so here’s something that’s helping me cope.

You’d been surprised when Sofia had told you; she quit. You’d been even more surprised that she had told you that Rafe told her too. You’d told her that was a terrible idea. That rich guys like Rafe would end up fucking her over and she shouldn’t be financially dependent on him. She hadn’t listened.

A rapid knock was heard at your door. You went quickly towards the door. You opened it, seeing a crushed Sofia.

She had told you everything.

You hadn’t realize how deep it’d all been. But now you were with her on the beach. Trying to distract her from all that had to do with Rafe Cameron. You’d brought your other friends. Hoping that’ll cheer her up. But to no avail, she sat on the beach blanket; quiet.

“Ay amiga! I know it hurts now. But you’ll heal from it eventually.” You say, holding her hand. She looked towards you, furrowed brows and a frown.

“I just— I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. He told me he hates when people break his trust. And I did the worst thing possible. I’m such a piece of—

You stopped her before she could continue. Your hand on top of hers.

“You can’t beat yourself up for it. Even though, was it excessive? Yes, but it’s already been done. You can’t keep hating yourself because you were hurt by his words. You acted out of hurt.” You say, trying to console her.

Her head falls to your shoulders. “I’m still an idiot. I should have known it was a swindle. The whole thing felt sketchy. Now Hollis is dead and Groff ran away with Rafes money.”

You give her a sympathetic look. “It’s like, no matter how hard I try. I always make dumb decisions that hurt the people I care about most. I let my anger get in the way.” She continues. “He did so much for me and I threw it all away. If he never forgives me. I don’t blame him.” She looked down at the ground, a frown on her face.

A Karol g song starts to blast through the speakers and you looked down at her and smile.

“Dame tiempo/que no estoy mi mejor momento.” (Give me time, that I’m not at my best) You start to sing, Sofia looking up at you, a sad smile on her face.

“Y mientras me curo del corazón/Hoy salgo pa'l mar a aprovechar que hay sol/Está bien no sentirse bien, es normal, no es delito” (And while I heal from the heart/Today I go out to the sea to take advantage of the sun/It's okay to not feel good, it's normal, it's not a crime)

Tears start to roll down her face as you continue to sing. Your hand now in hers. You sway a little as you sing. Unaware of someone approaching you two from behind.

“No necesito más/Solo amor, dame tiempo/Yo me sano con tu compañía/Esa paz que me das” (Don't need more/Just love, give me time/I heal with your company/That peace that you give me) She finally is back to eye level with you. She sings along with you. You nudge her, making her smile.

Someone clears their throat, you and Sofia breaking apart. Turning to see who it is. Your eyes widen as you see who it is. Rafe. You turn to see Sofia then back to him.

“I’ll leave you two… alone.”

(Sofias pov)

Sofia looked at Rafe as he sat down beside her on the sand. Rafe looked back as her friend walked away. He turned back to Sofia.

“So..” Rafe starts.

“I’m so sorry.” She sobs, it comes out of her quickly. He turns to her suddenly, his expression unreadable.

Then he sighs.

“Why did you do it?” He asks coldly, he looks towards the ocean. The waves rolling out towards shore. It would have been peaceful, had it not been for the tension between them.

“The deal with Hollis? It was stupid and it’s just going to make you more mad.” Rafes face hardens, his jaw ticking.

“I’ll be more mad if you don’t tell me. Tell me why? I deserve to know that much.” He looks at Sofia intently, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know how to begin.

“My dad had came to me, asking for my help. He’d— he’d asked me to help Hollis nudge you for this deal.” Sofia sighs, her eyes looking towards him. But he’s still watching the waves roll out, kissing the shore before rolling back in. “ I told him no, originally. That I wouldn’t scam you like that. That it was dishonest.”

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh yeah?”

Sofia face screws up, “Yes Rafe, I wasn’t going to do that to you. But then. But then I heard you with Ruthie and Topper.”

Rafe finally turns when he hears those two names. His brows furrow.

“That just because we hooked up didn’t mean that made me your girlfriend. That you wouldn’t live with a pogue… how you have standards.” She says, now being the one who turned towards the ocean. Unable to look him in the eyes.

Her friends had gone towards the water now. Making sure to give them privacy. —Silence engulfs them. The sounds of the seagulls, people laughing, and the waves crashing can only be heard.

“I didn’t mean that.” He says, “I just— when I have something. I don’t want people to ruin it and I just didn’t like how she spoke to me. I was being defensive. But I didn’t mean it.”

Sofia scrunches her eyebrows. “It still hurt to hear, Rafe. I-I know I messed up. I only did what I did out of anger…”

Rafe is silent for a while, he rubs his hand across his face. Biting his lip, which she wasn’t used to seeing.

“I just need time okay.” He finally says.

“Time?”

“Time to forgive you. I know I broke up with you so fast. I should have let you explain yourself. But it’s not like you were dying to say anything.” He says bitterly. Their eyes finally meet. It feels almost like the first time it ever did. Without her betrayal. When things were fresh. She would do anything to go back to that.

He’d been so kind. She didn’t think someone like him would ever notice her. But he did.

“I love you, I’m sorry Rafe.” She whispers, his face can’t settle on an emotion to feel.

“Just give me time.” Sofia nods, placing her head on his shoulder. He lets her. Both of them watching was the waves settles. Smoother than the crashes it had been.

Taglist

@lostsyren

[lawrites]

Sweet Thing (NSFW)

Gotham Victor Zsasz x Plus Size! Female Chef Reader

(Honestly is this kinda pwp that resulted from the once scene where Zsasz doesn't get a cupcake, making me feel sad and want to give him one?? Yeah...yeah maybe. Also @finniestoncrane and @riddle-me-ri have made me obsessed with Gotham rogues again so...thanks for that and for inspiring me to write again. 💙💙)

Warnings: some weight insecurities on the readers part (listen I have them so I'm writing them, shush), descriptions of reader's body, Zsasz probably being ooc, smut!!!!

It was...strange...in a way, this relationship you may or may not have with Victor Zsasz. You both work for Oswald Cobblepot, you as his private chef/patisserie and him as...well...one of the most dangerous killers in Gotham. It started when he scared you half to death the first time he snuck into your kitchen in the Cobblepot residence.

You were carefully simmering something on the stove, stirring and scraping the edges to make sure nothing burned, and you turned around to grab some salt only to see a man all in black staring at you from across the kitchen island, obviously well-armed.

You screamed and dropped the salt, of course. It's Gotham and you work for THE Penguin. You assumed the worst. But he just raised one eyebrow and smirked at you, his expression surprisingly...goofy for someone with at least 4 guns on him in plain sight. "Oh, no need to worry. I'm Victor Zsasz, we share the same boss."

You remember nodding, being immediately comforted as you did recognize the name. "Oh! Oh, I apologize for the reaction, Mr. Zsasz." You did your best to smile back shakily, which only made him grin wider. But then he looked behind you and raised his eyebrows, which reminded you where you were and what you were doing. You let out a slightly undignified squeak as you turned back to your reduction in worry, trying to see if anything had burned when you stopped stirring.

Relief flooded you when it was still perfect, and you called over your shoulder, "So what brings you to my Kitchen, Mr. Zsasz?" Waiting a few beats, you were met with silence, so you snuck a glance behind you only to see that he had left just as quietly as he came.

And that was the first time you encountered one of Gotham's finest killers.

Since then, you interacted with him at least once a week, if not every day, in almost the exact same fashion. He would quietly show up, (possibly trying to scare you again), stay for a bit to watch you cook, and then leave just as quietly. You started talking with him to pass the time, being met with vague, cryptic responses laced with occasional names for you. "Sweetheart" seemed to be his go-to, but he also loved "Honey." It was a bit awkward in the beginning...

"So Mr. Zsasz..."

"Sweetheart, call me Victor."

"Oh! Ok...Victor...any hobbies??"

"...crochet, actually."

...but you got into a rhythm eventually. Sometimes you would ask him for a prepped ingredient, a spice, or a measuring spoon if your hands were full.

You have convinced yourself that he must be trying to scare you again, because he loves quietly sliding up behind you and brushing up against your arms as he hands it to you with a softly whispered, "Whatever you say, Chef."

It DID make you let out another squeak the first time, which was met with a deep chuckle from him, but after that it started to create a different reaction. Your cheeks would flame as you would take the item you asked for--the cute names, his slight most likely accidental touches...all of them affecting you.

You do your best to tamper it down each time, not allowing yourself to even start down the path of hope. Being obviously bigger than what lots of men find attractive due to society's standards means that you have either met mainly men who were desperate or mean. It's not your fault, you sometimes really dig your body, you just can't seem to find anyone else who does.

You have no idea why he visits, but his conversations make your day better, so you don't want him to stop. And he doesn't seem to be showing up to frighten or taunt you anymore...you just don't want to let yourself believe that he would be into you. A tiny voice that you think is your conscience pipes up and says he also kills people for fun and profit, but you just remind it that you're in Gotham and honestly you could do worse.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts a bit, you glance down at the oven. It's later in the day for you, after dinner has been done, and you are prepping desserts for tomorrow. Oswald has requested cupcakes, for some reason, so you are watching them to make sure they don't burn. Easy as they are to make, it wouldn't do to have the Penguin himself angry at you for any reason.

Taking out the tray, you check to make sure they are fully cooked before letting them cool and prepping the frosting. Humming along to the radio and swaying a bit, your thoughts drift back to Victor. He usually would have stopped by before this time, which means you probably won't be seeing him today. It does make your heart fall a bit, but you remind yourself that it shouldn't because he is just a...friend? Coworker? "Possible cryptid??" Your tiny conscious supplies.

You giggle to yourself as you imagine Victor creeping around the woods with Mothman. Shaking your head, you finish placing the frosting in your piping bag only to turn around and feel it slip from your fingers as the form of Victor appears closer than you would have expected. He catches the bag and grins at you, his usual serious countenance turning into something softer as he says "Woah, Chef, wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

You place a hand on your forehead, catching your breath a bit as your heart slows down, "Yeah, it's almost like someone showed up out of nowhere and scared me." You grin back at him "But I know that's nowhere near what you meant to do, right?"

His eyes shine with mischief, "Oh, of course not Honey. You're so sweet it forces me to be on my best behavior around you."

He hands you back your frosting with an exaggerated bow and cheesy grin. You roll your eyes but can't disguise your blush as you take it from him, "Victor, you know you don't have to flatter me if you want a cupcake."

He stands up straight, his eyes showing shock. "Me? Get a cupcake?"

Confused by his excitement, you respond with a question in your voice, "Of course??"

He seems almost shy, a word you would never have used to describe him before, and rubs the back of his head. "Oh...it's just...you've never offered before..."

You think back through the past few months, each and every encounter...and then you slap yourself on the forehead, "Oh Victor, I've been holding out on you haven't I? I'm sorry, I should have given you something even the first time you stopped by. I've been remiss in my duties as a Chef."

His shocked face turns softer, but some other emotion that you can't place is also present. "While I can't disagree, as I was definitely hoping something was on offer that day, I can't blame you. I remember thinking what you have was too sweet for a killer like me."

Walking up to your cooled cupcakes on the kitchen island, you scoff at him even though you are secretly preening at his words. As you start to carefully create a swirl of frosting, you respond, "Victor, I'm not THAT sweet." You turn for just a second to wink at him, returning to your previous task to avoid seeing his reaction. "And I'm not sure why you kept coming down here when I wasn't even feeding you! That's usually the only way I make my friends, killers or not."

As you finish the swirl with a flick of your wrist, you see him walk into your field of view across the counter. Feeling proud of how perfect it is, you add the final touch, a perfectly prepped red rose made of icing, and align it just so. And then...after all that work...you gladly pick it up and gently offer it to Victor.

There is a hunger in his eyes, and you wonder how you had managed to not die for the past few months if a cupcake could do this to him. He should have rightly torn you to pieces to get to the apple cider macarons you made last week.

He plucks the cupcake from your hands and examines it, turning it to and fro. "Very nice, Chef, as always." He grins and unwraps the dessert, barely hesitating before taking a big bite out of it. His eyes widen and then close in what you assume is enjoyment. Your suspicions are confirmed only a second later when he actually moans at the taste, swallowing heavily and letting out a soft, "Fuck." Your traitorous eyes trace down the length of his neck almost involuntarily.

Trying to disguise your heavier blush that is most likely down to your chest at this point, you quickly look down to the rest of the cupcakes and focus on decorating them instead of the images racing through your mind. Your pride at your work won't let you keep quiet though, so you have to comment on his reaction. "I don't know if I've had a better reaction to my food before. I'll have to remember to make even better stuff for you later."

You don't see his reaction, but you see him set the rest of the cupcake on the counter after a beat of silence and begin to move slowly towards you out of the corner of your eye. "You would make me, of all people, better stuff?" He takes another step, "Not just discards from the boss's requests?"

You smile, but continue to look down at your icing work. "Your wish is my command! I love making desserts for my..."

Just a moment of hesitation, an instance. You implied that Victor was your friend earlier, but would that be appropriate by his standards? Is he even your friend? And you know that even that would be a lie, coming from you. But as your thoughts race, you feel a firm hand lift up your hand and take the icing bag away, setting it gently on the counter. Then Victor grips into your soft arms and physically turns you towards him, all while you stay silent in shock.

He is staring at you again, but this time with a more guarded expression. "For...who? What am I to you?"

You are stunned and stumble over your words, not expecting his question, "I-I don't know, Victor, I like to think t-that you are at least my f-friend at this point, but I totally understand if you don't think we are there yet. I mean...I do enjoy your company..."

You feel his hands grip a bit harder at your arms, effectively cutting you off, "...And is that all you want from me, Sweetness? Are you sure?"

Your mind is screaming at you, and your heart as well. Both at war with each other. He can't like you that way, but maybe he's noticed your reactions. Why wouldn't he? He's trained to kill, he probably notices everything about you.

He's just trying to put a stop to this before it gets further, your mind screams.

"I-I..." you find yourself unable to form words, a panic rising inside you. You don't want to lose some of the only company you have during your shifts...some of your only company in general, in Gotham. It is near impossible to determine if anyone is trustworthy when working for the Penguin. You usually find yourself walking directly home from work, and having civil conversations with neighbors at most.

It is even more difficult to keep that panic at being alone again from continuing when his dark eyes keep constant contact with yours, never wavering. You can see now how people are terrified of him. All of that focus that he usually uses against his enemies, his...targets...all aimed at you. It makes your mind fuzzy, cloudy. You struggle to think of any words, let alone the ones you need.

But, you decide it would be easier to speak if you weren't looking at him. So you allow yourself to look at your shoes instead. He will be able to tell if you lie, with or without eye contact. There are better liars than you in Gotham that he has matched and ended.

Alternatively...leaving isn't wise, either. It would lead to the same outcome as lying. With a quick breath to steady yourself, you know your only course is to admit whatever you feel.

"I...I don't think I can lie to you, whether or not the both of us want me to. I have thought of...more...with you. But if that makes you uncomfortable, I entirely understand. I know I'm not what most..."

He again cuts off your rapid-fire words by putting a singular finger under your chin to raise your face until it is looking at him. His eyes are searching yours as your heart pounds in your chest with anguish over your confession, and you wait. Seeming to find what he was looking for, you hear him mutter "Fuck, finally," and then he slams his lips into yours.

Shocked, you don't react for a few beats...but then you start to move your lips against his. His hands have moved from your chin and arm, both going to your wide hips. He groans as they sink into the soft flesh you have there, pulling you closer until you are flush with his front. The feel of your soft belly connecting with his slight frame makes you pause and short-circuit, your lips hesitating. He notices and breaks from the kiss.

"I-I...Victor..." his hands release you, a more worried expression taking over his face.

"Sweetheart, is it too much?" He takes a gloved hand and gently sweeps your hair behind your ear, then cups your face to make sure you keep looking at him...gently, though. His hands are more gentle than you expected.

Damn him and his need for eye contact right now. And damn his gentle hands while you're at it. "No, that was wonderful, truly. I loved it." You do your best to show him honesty. "I-I just...oh God...I don't know how to phrase this."

His eyes don't leave yours, and one of his thumbs starts to sweep against your soft cheek.

Taking a deep breath, you muster up some strength of will. Either way this will be over soon. "I just...I'm big."

He nods as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "Yeah, Honey, I know." One hand stops cupping your face and moves down to lightly trace your hip.

Sighing at his inability to see, you continue, "So-so...most people don't like that I'm bigger, or that I have a belly, and I'm just nervous that..."

"That I'm most people?" Victor stops gently cupping your face and instead forcefully uses his hand to bring you closer, "Sweetness, I'm Gotham's finest killer, I'm not most people."

And then he slams his lips into yours again, and you find that you don't care to think anymore. His hand drifts from your chin to your throat, gently gripping there for now as he starts to walk you back until your ass is pressed right against the island. He tears his lips from yours, both of you catching your breath, and his other hand moves from your hip to your ass.

His hand traces the excess flesh that spills over the counter and he groans, squeezing it and leaning forward to whisper in your ear, "I've been thinking about getting to dig my hands into this perfect ass ever since I saw you in the kitchen that first day." His thumb on your throat starts to stroke up and down, feeling you swallow and moan at his words.

His grin is back, "That's right, sweetness, let me hear you." His hand moves away from your throat so he can start to trace down your neck with his teeth, but in between bites he continues to talk. "Been wanting to hear the noises you might make for me since then too." He pulls back to give you a dangerous smile, "Do you really think I kept sneaking up on you to scare you?"

Your voice is a bit strained, but sure, as you reply plainly, "Yes." But then a smirk stretches over your lips and your eyes light up with mirth at your tease.

His dangerous smile softens just slightly, and he chuckles, "You DO know me well, then." He hides his face in your neck once more, his hands gripping your ass harder as he presses himself into your front. You feel how hard he is against you just as he bites down on the juncture at your shoulder, and it makes you let out an involuntary whimper, your smirk disappearing.

"Just like I've heard in my fucking dreams for the past few months." He pants against your skin, grinding against your center and licking at the bite he just made. Surprisingly, instead of continuing his trail like you expected, he stops, sniffing at the part he just attended to, and almost lets out a choked sound.

"So fucking sweet." He pulls back, and you see some of the desperation in his eyes. "Your scent, your fucking baking." His eyes close, "Sweetness seems to follow you around, seeping into everything you touch."

He turns you around gently and places your back to his front, settling his chin on your shoulder and speaking softly. "You know, I was planning on just sneaking down that first day, annoying the boss's baker like all the others that came before." He nuzzles his nose against your skin, "...stealing something that wasn't mine."

His hands begin to wander, the first one moves lightly across your collarbone, making you shiver, while the other weaves across your front, hugging you to him and digging into your soft side. The hand that traced your collarbone slowly starts to trail down, arriving at your breasts. His touch stays light. "Maybe I would find some of that excess that others are loath to give me." He breathes in sharply along with you as he squeezes your breast, almost unable to keep himself from doing so. "I can't even fit all you have to give me in my hand, pretty Chef."

Shaking his head, resolving himself, he continues his previous train of thought. "Imagine my surprise when I encountered what I already told you was the perfect ass, still able to be seen through these awful chef clothes you wear." A hint of disdain makes its way into his voice as he pinches your loose work shirt.

Releasing the fabric and smoothing it over, his hand joins the other around your front, almost sweetly hugging you to him with a light grip. He breathes in as he forces himself to slow down so he can speak. "The way you spoke...so unsure, but still trying to be polite even to me."

He pushes himself against you again, as if to remind yourself where you are even with his shockingly sweet words. "And your sweet voice calling me Mr. Zsasz..." His hands dig into your plush stomach, pushing you back but also making you wince again.

He doesn't allow your doubts to get to you, his blunt words stopping them in their tracks, "I had to run out of the room to fuck my own hand as it echoed in my mind."

A bolt of heat goes straight to your core and you moan, grinding your ass against him. A hitch in his breath, and then he whispers into your neck "Yes, I knew you had it in you, good girl. So desperate, hmm?"

You nod, holding back a whine at his praise and trying not to get too heated at work. At work! Suddenly you remember where you are. Slowing yourself down, you reach for his hands and gently pry at them. To his credit, they loosen instantly. Turning around to look at him again, you catch his own blush, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark...but also saddened by the loss of you against him.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry if I went too far. You don't owe me anything..." His voice is breathy as he now desperately spits out words, "...not cupcakes or yourself or..."

You now hold up a finger to his lips, shushing him. His eyes widen, darken even more, and then look almost dangerous again. Filing his reaction away for later, you saunter over to where he left his cupcake from before, making sure to sway your hips for him. "I know I don't owe you."

You turn around with the cupcake held right in the palm of your hand. "I would be happy to give you whatever you want." He seems almost dazed as he approaches you, leaning down to your hand. With a nod from you, he leans forward and licks through the icing, holding eye contact the whole time.

Your heartbeat stutters and you almost forget where you were again. Damn him and his tongue now, too. Taking a shuddering breath, you finish your thought. "But we are both at work, unfortunately." His eyes fall and he pouts. It's almost adorable to see the serious, dangerous man so...cute??

"Luckily for you..." His eyes perk up instantly. You roll your eyes and your free hand points to the ground. "Down, boy."

He licks his lips in response.

"L-luckily for you, I was just thinking about leaving the rest of the icing for tomorrow." He relaxes his pose and plucks the cupcake from your hand, happily moving to sit at a chair and gesturing for you to do your cleanup.

You begin, only to stop when you hear his voice again. "Sweetness...how long would it take you to make another batch of icing?" Connecting what he means when you notice his eyes staring at the current bag of icing resting on the counter, you pick up the pace even more.

He giggles, actually giggles, at your haste before he bites into the cupcake. "You know I have an appetite for sweet things."

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

Idk if this was great or not lol. No beta, no proof readers, barely any hint of a story line, just vibes. Also this is very "he would not say that" but let me live within my delusions. Victor Zsasz could like a sweet, plus size girl in MY French vanilla fantasy.

[canmargesimpson]

Idk just a weird story I got in the middle of the night

When Robin told Steve they were going to New York to see an old friend, the last thing on his mind was to end up in an underground queer bar with drag queens and prostitutes. I mean he’s not complaining, but why couldn’t they meet over coffee like friends, or just a regular bar, but no. It had to be a basement of a pizza restaurant where glitter and the sticky feeling was all around them. 

“Robin, are you sure this is the place?” he said as she moved through the crowd to a free table, in front of the small yet very illuminated stage “cuz i dont think… these are your type of friends?”

“Hey handsome” a transvestite placed a hand on his shoulder and let her long nail press along making him shiver “Want something to drink?”

Robin smiled, completely pleased with the situation his friend was it

“Give me a rum and coke, and for the gentleman… get him a shirley temple please”

“What?! No!” steve shook his head “ a beer is fine please”

“A rum and coke and shirley temple on their way” she laughs as she walks away

Robin laughs too as she takes her purse and places it on the table. Steve just flips her off and looks around trying to understand where they were. The drinks were eventually served, and thankfully Steve got his beer, but also a phone number.

“Wet Wendy?” Steve reads “Her name is Wet wendy…”

“I have heard worst” robin scruggs, “and come on, have fun, you’re a fresh bisexual, and you're surrounded by everything you might like, no need to stress”

Steve breathes deeply and looks around, and before he can say something a loud music starts. It's a 80s like beat that is quite slow, and the lights started to go down while the stage curtains open

“Steve, it's starting,” Robin says as she hands him a 20 dollar bill. 

On the stage there's a chair and a woman with her back to the audience. She has long, vicious hair that is curly and puffy. The person turns around and starts to sing the song. 

“We broke up on a tuesday, 

kicked me out with the rent paid

Ruined my credit

Stole my cute aesthetic”

And oh boy was Steve hooked. Other than the amazing hair, she was wearing some small yet clear devil horns. On her face was drawn a big white heart on her face, with the rest being red. The face on her though made his jeans tight, but just a bit. I'm talking bright blue eyeshadow, with some jewels and some big lashes that made the eyes pop brighter than ever he thought it was possible. There was a red lip tainted on her lips that were glossy and shiny. And the outfit was the best part of it all. She was wearing black pleather heels with red and black lingerie that fit like a glove. No to add a thigh corset that shaped the body like an hourglass. Steve was drooling.

But when the bridge started steve was pretty sure he was in heaven

It’s hot

When you have a meltdown 

In the front of your house 

And you’re getting kicked out 

It’s hot

When you’re drinking downtown

And you’re getting called out 

Cause you’re running your mouth 

Oh god

The way she crawled on the floor while lip syncing the moans of the song made Steve's ears burn like a fever. She then layed on the floor on her back, to then arch it and show the red wine bra that had black jewels like nippels. She then got on her feet and got off the stage and walked around. People started to hand her dollars and she just grabbed them, stuffed them on her bra and then painties. Steve had to blink twice to make sure he was awake. 

The girl then noticed him. He cracked. He let out a sigh like a moan as she locked eyes with her. Her dark brown almost black eyes looked like those supernovae in Dustin space books. It just got him trapped voluntarily and it made him gulp. She started to strut to him and grabbed him by the jaw to look up at her. 

Ruin your life 

You losing you mind

You dying your hair 

People say I’m jealous but my kink is watching you

crashing your car 

You breaking your heart

You thinking I care

People say I’m jealous but my kink is karma 

She sang those words as she stared at him and smirked while taking a seat on his lap. God he was in trouble now. It took everything in him to stay still and not let his third leg rise up, but sometimes things just happen and it's inevitable. He looked up at her so ashamed and sorry for what he's doing, and for making her uncomfortable. She is trying to do her job and here is Steve with his willy hard. But it was as he looked up in awe at her, as she sang to the audience while dancing on him, that she enjoyed it of sorts. She then looked down at him, smirked and kissed him, hardly leaving a bright red stain on his lips that he would rather die than to take it off. 

She climbed off him and walked back to the stage to dance where she made it very clear that not only she loves the attention but also loves the feeling on the stage. She belongs there, with her hair flowing with her moves. The way she portrays the song made it feel like she was singing to him and only him. Steve felt like he was in a world with only him and her. It was crazy.

He didn't even realize she had left until robin was snapping her finger in front of him. He looked at her and blinked again quickly and looked around

“Where did she go?” 

“Her set finished 10 minutes ago, have you just been imagining her this entire time you perv?” she laughs, but steve just stares at her

“I need to meet her” he says

“Well you will”

“What!?”

“Yeah! In a few so go to the bathroom and get yourself together men, your friend joined the party, and that not really cute when meeting new people”

Steve stood up and ran to the bathroom that thank the lord was empty at the time. He washed his face and removed the lipstick stain from his lips  and tried to calm down whatever was happening with him and his body at the moment. God he's about to meet her! He need to make a great first impression because then he’s fucked. He moved his hair from one side to another till it looked great. He smiled to the mirror and winked hyping himself up. 

“Come on harrington, you got this' ' He said before leaving the bathroom.

Robin and him walked toward the back of the so-called bar to where a room with a star on the door hung where the word “dressing room” was written. Robin knocked twice before opening the door to find a bunch of men in makeup and robes running around changing wig and shoes. But on the very end, the dark curly mane stood up clearly. Steve swallowed and inhaled deeply as they walked into the dressing room towards her. She was wearing one of those 50s womens robes with the edge being fur. It was black with red fur and it was transparent enough for Steve to see some tattoos on her back that he didn't seem to see earlier. 

“Hey!!” Robin said excitedly and she turned around.

Steve’s smiles didn’t fall… but it definitely twitched.

“Hey robs” Eddie munson said with a cig on his lips. 

He looked better than Steve remembered from high school. He looked…. Amazing actually. The way his jaw was sharp and fine, his smirk was wider and flirtier than ever. He looked…. Even better than the stage.

“How are you feeling harrington?” he smirked “didn’t know you were one for underground bars, i thought you were more of a… 3 star michelin kind of guy”

The way he smoothed talked and slithered into Steve’s head made him literally stutter with his words

“I-i-i  I mean- You- wha- li-” he then gave up trying to speak and just nodded subtly “yep”

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Right Here

-M.S

Summary; You break up with your boyfriend, and your best friend Matt is there to comfort you. In hopes you feel the same way, he confesses his feelings towards you, and things don’t go as planned.

Pairing; Matt X Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety attack, cussing, heartbreak, unresolved conflict, no fluff. this is pure angst and it is SADDDD.

“Baby, how you doing?

I know you’re not doing the best

but i’m here

i’ll always be here.”

“Fuck!” You sobbed into Matt’s chest. You had been laying with him for hours just sobbing.

“Baby, it’s not your fault. I promise you, beautiful girl, it wasn’t you.” Matt assured you. It wasn’t helping. You know thats all he was trying to do, but it wasn’t working very well.

“But it was my fault, Matt! He cheated! He fucking cheated.” You gritted your teeth. You felt pure anger, only at yourself, and sorrow.

“Y/N, he didn’t fucking deserve you! Key word was ‘he’. He cheated. He ended shit. Not you. Fuck him.” Matt lifted you off his now tear stained shirt. “Look at me, pretty girl. It wasn’t you. I fucking promise.” Matt’s facial expression was softer than usual. He was always calm and sweet around you, but he seemed hurt. “Y/N, I love you. Do you think i’d lie to you?” He questioned, and you thought about it. To be fair, Matt hadn’t lied to you as far as you knew.

“Well.. No.. but.. why would he cheat if I was enough?” You asked.

“That, I can’t tell you. Because honestly, I have no fucking clue. You’re so perfect to me. You know that.” Matt shrugged, standing up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” You called out after him, but he just opened his closet, pulling out one of his hoodies, that you always claimed was your favorite. He slowly walked back over to you with it, handing it to you and gesturing for you to put it on.

“We can just stay here together. Just me and you. You’ll eventually forget about him, he’s not worth your time anyways.” Matt smiled as he sat back down on the bed. “Hold on,” He spoke right before you laid your head back down on him.

He unexpectedly slipped his shirt off over his head, and you gave him a puzzled look. Not because you were upset nor disgusted by it, you thought Matt was very pretty, but he almost never had his shirt off. He never said he was insecure about it or anything, he just didn’t do it often.

“I know you like skin-to-skin contact. My shirt was wet anyways.” Matt places a small kiss on your forehead. A friendly kiss, in which you didn’t mind.

A few movies later, Matt taps you gently on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You hum, continuing to give all of your attention to the T.V.

“Can you look at me, please?” He asks, and you quickly oblige. You sit up, facing him, as he does the same. “Y/N, you know I love you, and nothing will change that, right?” He asks, and you quickly become concerned.

“I.. Yeah? Of course I know that, Matt. I love you too. What’s going on?” You question, and he forces a small smile.

“I… I like you.” He blurts out, his heart practically beating out of his chest. He felt confident that you’d like him back, especially with the way you acted around him.

“Oh.” You state blandly, your eyes widening. Matt’s eyebrows furrow; and he quickly regrets his decision to tell you.

“I.. Fuck, i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. We can just forget this happened, right? Yeah.. It’s not that big of a deal! Especially because you didn’t know before I told you.” Matt’s breathing begins to speed up quickly, and your eyes well with tears.

There goes your best fucking friend.

“Y/N..? Please, talk to me.. We get along great! Please.. Fuck, can we start over? I.. Please, please Y/N, i’m sorry..” Matt quickly lets the anxiety take over, as he saw the regret in your own eyes.

“We? Matt, there was never a we.” You shut him down, in the worst way possible.

“No, no, no.. Y/N, please. Fucking please- Y-you can’t leave me like this-“ Matt starts as tears fill his eyes and his breaths quicken. “Fuck, no. Please no..” He begs, his arms reaching out to hold yours.

“All those little nothings, Matt. They meant something..? All those times you remembered something he didn’t? All those times you outdid him?” You questioned, pulling your arms back from him. He shamefully nodded.

“Yes, of course they all meant something, Y/N. And I know it was fucked up of me. I shouldn’t have tried so hard to pull you two apart, I just.. I wanted you so fucking bad, and he didn’t deserve you, Y/N. No one does,” Matt sighs, wiping his eyes quickly.

“No, Matt.. Fuck, please stop crying. I can’t see you cry..” You plead, but he shakes his head.

“I- I cant- Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” Matt begins to panic, but you were all caught up in your own mind to realize. “I- I, fuck- Y/N, I- I can’t breathe-“ Matt gasps, tears pouring out of his eyes, as he rested his back against the headboard.

“Matt- hold on; stay with me, Matt- Y-you’re doing good.. fuck! What do I do, Matt!” You began panicking as well. Yeah, you’ve delt with your fair share of Matt’s anxiety, so you know how to handle it, but not when you’re the leading cause. “Hold on.. stay right here!” You tell him, before standing up.

“I- no- no, no n-no! P-please! Don’t l-leave me here!” Matt sobs, but you don’t listen. You leave the room, leaving him alone, before running to Nick’s room, since it’s closer than Chris’, praying at least one of the boys were there.

As you burst through the door, both Nick and Chris look up at you, their eyes flooded with concern. They immediately knew something was off.

“M-Matt! It’s Matt!” You cry, and both of the boys get out of Nick’s bed, as quick as you have seen them move in a while. They fly down the hallway to Matt’s room, to be met with the boy curled up on the bed, seemingly trying to even his rapid breathing out.

“H-help-“ He rasps, and Chris immediately rushes onto the bed besides Matt.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, buddy! I’m here! I got you, okay? Here, listen to my breathing, follow along with it.” Chris pulls Matt into him, and begins breathing out of his mouth, causing his breathing to be louder, making it easier for Matt to hear and match.

“Y/N! What the fuck! Why would you leave him!” Nick whisper yelled at you, trying not to scare Matt.

“I-I don’t know! I’m sorry!” You plead, and Nick scoffs.

“Shhh.. There you are,” Chris smiles, as Matt’s breathing normalizes again. “You okay?” Chris asks, and Matt nods.

“T-thank you..” Matt sighs, getting off of his brother, who then nodded and stood up.

“Of course. Do you wanna talk about anything?” Chris offered, noticing that both of them were crying, and whatever the situation was probably caused Matt to react like this.

“No.. C-can we have some priva-cy though?” Matt hiccuped, and the two nodded, before leaving the room.

“Matt, i’m so fucking sorry, I shouldn’t have left you here like that. I don’t know what the fuck I was-“

“Stop, Y/N. Just stop for once.” Matt demanded, and you did stop. Mid sentence, mouth still open and all. You closed your mouth and nodded, waiting for Matt to begin speaking again. “I’ve waited for you. I’ve waited fucking years, Y/N. Since we were goddamn twelve. I’ve been waiting for eight years. Eight fucking years, and this is what I get? I could get passed with a simple ‘i’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.’ but there was never an us? Yeah, fuck you for that one, Y/N. You really fucked it up there. All those nights you cried in my arms, and I cancelled plans I had, just to sit here with you in silence, to remind you that you’re loved, down the drain. All those times we laughed so hard we cried for fucking hours together, down the drain. All those times we got so drunk together we threw up the next day, one in the toilet and the other in the garbage can right next to each other. Yeah, those were important to me. I was right here for you always. All those years, just to find out I mean nothing to you. Something you can just toss in the fucking trash after years of growing carefully. Guess you didn’t want to care for it anymore, did you? One fucking slip up, three goddamn words, and you let it all go. Why?” Matt held his composure surprisingly well.

“I.. I don-“

“No, no, no. You don’t get to get off with a fucking ‘I don’t know’ like usual, Y/N. Not this time. Why? Why the fuck did you do it, Y/N?” Matt growled.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I was a piece of shit friend. You deserve better than that. I wish you the best, Matt. I’ll really fucking miss you. Keep that in mind, please. You have my number if you need it.” You nodded, knowing it was your time to leave.

“I wont be needing it.”

“Just remember that I am still right here

And if you doubt me, that’s just fine

And when it comes clear,

I will be waiting right here.”

@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso