#I was at the dentist and my lip was poked to check for freezing

[ryndicate]

ㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤ ㅤPart One: Nock

Kirishima x fem!reader

warnings: dark content; please check ML for full series warnings, this part just has angst and drug mentions

a/n: 2.3k, I've been dreaming about this one for awhile and I won't lie, this is the intro to my imagination's tangent to @k1saki saying "bloody teeth Kiri" on the dash once. I wrote a single scene that deserves a full story or my writer brain wouldnt be satisfied! So! Once upon a time....

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

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ㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤ ㅤ| Masterlist |

The last thing Kirishima remembers is throwing up his quirk as he lunged in front of Bakugou in the middle of a bust gone wrong. 

He must not have been fast enough because he’s blinking his eyes open slowly, disoriented. He can hear the sound of hushed voices, can smell the musty odor of something that was left out wet for too long. His hero suit is still on, leaving his body cold and exposed. Goosebumps cover his skin, so Kirishima wants to assume he’s freezing but it’s confusing; he feels wracked with heat, as if smoke might burst from his skin within seconds.

“Looks like our next headline hero is waking up.”

An amused voice brightens the dark room with his singsong and Kirishima’s red eyes focus in on an attractive man who is stepping into view from around the… Kirishima realizes he’s chained tightly to what looks like some sort of dentist chair, but oddly that revelation doesn’t bring around any trepidation. All he can focus on is the plush set of the lips of the man speaking.

“—I have to admit, I was pretty disappointed when my men couldn’t get me Dynamight, but I think you’ll do very nicely,” he hums, his voice pleasant, friendly even. “You looked a little too wild for my tastes, but after researching your public image, I don’t think this could have turned out any better. You’re oddly welcoming of all your media attention, aren’t you Red Riot? All your fans think you’re so nice.”

Kirshima’s eyes sweep hungrily up and down the man’s figure. He has a small waist, wide shoulders—not unlike Bakugou, if not a little more willowy in frame—and he looks so soft. His hair is such a gentle shade of blue, with golden brown eyes that Kirishima is certain would look lovely full of tears. “What’s your name?” he purrs to the man, low and inviting.

“Oh, is it working already?” He steps closer, those beautiful eyes full of intrigue and satisfaction. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

Kirishima’s mind shimmers, answering as if the words were coaxed from his mind. “I feel…like I want to fuck you senseless.”

“Perfect.” The mystery man’s eyes sparkles with unrestrained delight, chuckling softly. “Oh you’ll do so nicely, I’m so happy with how this turned out!”

“Tell me your name,” Kirishima asks again, demands, mesmerized as he begins to circle his chair, dragging his fingertips up his arm, making the red-haired hero shudder. His arms flex and the chains clink as the protest the movement; he has to touch this man.

“It’s okay handsome, you wouldn't remember it anyways. Let’s have some fun.”

You stare out the window blankly. It started raining a few minutes ago, or maybe longer than that. Your apartment feels full of people but everything is still too quiet. The TV drones a weather report from the news you refuse to switch away from. 

There's a muttered curse from Bakugou behind you. You turn slowly from the window to look at him.

“It’s been two fuckin’ days.” The blonde has shoved back the chair from the makework dining table and is pacing in his street clothes, dark sweats with the hood pulled over his head so that only a few tufts of his hair poke out.

"Katsuki I'm sure he's fine…"

“The fuck do you know, dunce face—he could be dead.”

“Katsuki—” Mina warns sharply, coming around the corner into the living room with a bowl of popcorn, one of yours and Denki’s many comfort foods. She gives him a pointed glare, glancing at you. You pretend you don’t see it and continue picking at the loose threads of the couch cushion.

“Alright, fuck. Whatever.” Bakugou shoulders his way past her down the hallway. The sound of the kitchen sink turning on alerts you that he hasn’t left the apartment at least.

Everyone from Eijirou’s closest set of friends had gathered in the apartment you shared with him, those that weren’t on duty at least. It’s ironic; Ei moved in with you a few months ago so wouldn’t be alone—and you’re pretty sure they’re all here now for the same reason. You can’t tell which you’d prefer, you’re too numb to decide whether you’d rather fall apart alone or not.

Mina plops down on the couch next to you, rubbing your arm reassuringly. Denki relieves her of the bowl, pulling it into his own lap from where he sits on the floor, his back brushing your legs as he rests against the couch “Your brother is tougher than some mid-level crime syndicate, okay? Even if they still have him, he’s going to be fine. Bakugou’s just an ass when he’s worried.”

“Bakugou’s just an ass,” Denki chimes in through a mouth of popcorn, scrolling on his phone. “Jirou just checked in, still nothing. Said she’s going to run overtime to make sure though.”

“Tell her thank you,” you sigh softly, hugging a throw pillow in your lap and pulling out your phone, hoping beyond hope that there will be some contact from Eijirou. You know if he managed to open communications, it would be a hero agency first—someone who could actually help, not you—but you can’t stop yourself from checking.

You have a message from Sero checking in on you, more apologies from Midoriya despite your assurances that there was nothing he could have done tied up with a bank robbery across town, and other than a few empty notifications and an email from work—nothing. You’re putting the device down when you get a text preview that makes you pause.

>> Got something, you free?

“I’m gonna run to the convenience store real quick, want anything?” You mumble, getting off the couch and pulling your jacket from where you’d tossed it on the ottoman. 

“I’ll come with y—” Mina starts but you cut her off with a quick smile.

“I won’t be long, I just…need a sec, okay?”

“Okay,” she frowns, sitting back against the cushions, “We’ll be here then.”

“I’ll take some chips and soda.”

“‘Kay, ‘Kami. Katsuki, you want anything?” you call down the hallways, shrugging into your jacket. 

“I want my fucking ‘vacation’ to be over! I should be out there.” he barks from the kitchen.

“Not in stock,” you grumble under your breath, dodging his stinkeye as he pops his head out from the kitchen to glare at you and grabbing your keys off the hook. You wince guiltily as the door slams behind you in your haste. His friends are all trying to be there for you in their own way; you're not out to make them uncomfortable.

As soon as you’re clear of the block you pull out your phone and call. It rings twice before picking up. You don’t give him the chance to speak first, “Shinso? What did you find out?”

He doesn’t chide you for your lack of manners, thankfully. He gets right down to business. “Wish I had better news, but he’s with a rough crowd. They don’t have a lot of public coverage, but that’s not particularly a good thing here. The reports I dug up were shoved pretty deep under the books, had to call on a favor or two. They’re pretty fucked up.”

“Oh god,” you breath, stopping in the center of the sidewalk, just out of reach of the next streetlight. When you reached out to him, you knew with his underground work he might have more access to information than the rest of your brother’s friends, but the full reality of that is just beginning to resonate with you.

“Yeah,” Shinso sighs and pauses. “Look, we both know I owe you one but are you sure you want to hear this? We keep this stuff from the civs for a reason. It might be better to wait until—”

“It’s Ei, I have to know,” your voice breaks and for a minute there’s nothing but silence on his end. You can hear him weighing all his options, his reluctance bleeding heavily into the air. You know the stuff he sees on the job is tough to stomach; it’s caused more than enough arguments. But this hollow feeling in your chest won’t let you stand by, so if Shinso is waiting for you to change your mind then he’s out of luck.

“Alright,” he mutters. It’s muffled as if he’s rubbing a palm over his face, and then his throat clears. You start walking again, realizing if you take too long Mina will probably come looking for you. Shinso is in full intel mode, voice steady and informative. Distanced, you realize painfully. “The guy that’s running this thing goes by Cupid. He’s got a wide reach; moves through territory without much trouble and because of that we haven’t gotten a good eye on the guy yet. They haven’t worked out the full details of his quirk. There’s some level of hypnosis involved, but there’s degrees that point to a lust quirk, hence his stupid ass name.” Some of Shinso’s personality shines back in with a barely concealed sneer. “But what’s come up lately is that he’s gotten ahold of some research that’s letting him make his quirk more…accessible.”

“Accessible how?”

“Drugs,” Shinso returns grimly. “He’s managed to replicate his quirk into a drug. The initial effects—euphoria, raised libidio, intemperance—all seem temporary…if the dose is controlled. Based on the movements we have been able to track, it looks he’s trying to get it on the market, but he’s running into problems. We’ve already recovered a couple of his test subjects. They’re still, uh, still being…rehabilitated.”

Dread trickles down your spine. “And you think he’s testing on my brother now?”

“It’s possible,” Shinso says softly, sounding heavily like he doesn’t want to be saying it.

You don’t want to be hearing it. Your feet have already stopped moving without your permission again, the convenience store in view across the street. 

“How long ago were they found?”

“Oh, um…” That question seems to have caught him off guard.

“How long, Hitoshi.”

“Yikes, given names huh? Didn’t know we were back there yet,” Shinso jokes weakly.

“Tell me,” you whisper, throat catching.

Shinso falls silent, his voice gruff when he finally answers. “Few months. There hasn’t been a lot of progress.” 

You phone hangs away from your face in shock, becoming rooted and tense. Months? And they’re still not okay? You’re brother’s strong, tough as hell, but against drugs? That’s a very different thing. You were worried for him before but now you’re terrified. You really might not get your brother back, and if you do he might not be…

Shinso is trying to coax you back to the phone, calling your name until you hear him. “Hey. Look, I know it’s not the best time but if you need me to come over…I will. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You just—this situation isn’t something you can just brush off, you should have someone with you.”

“Ei’s friends are at our old apartment,” you sniffle, trying to keep it together and failing.

“And where are you?” Shinso asks in a gentle tone you recognize, making your heart pang.

“Buying snacks.”

“Get some ice cream, don’t buy any of those energy drinks, and get back. okay? Let them take care of you.” 

“‘Kay.”

You ignore the irony of him telling you not to buy any energy drinks, but you nod despite him being unable to see you and take the monumental effort to begin crossing the street. The florescents from the store hurt your eyes, probably red from crying, but it’s warm inside and familiar, and you just want to get home. You hurry to the shelves and check the time, only just realizing that Shinso hasn’t hung up yet, the call still ticking seconds on your screen. 

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m good, I’ll be back home in a few minutes—”

“Don’t hang up yet,” Shinso says, sounding hesitant.

You don’t say anything, but you do as he says, stopping to listen. There’s a little puff of air as he releases a sigh.

“He’s one of us, there’s a lot of people working on this,” Shinso encourages you softly. “I’m getting myself put on it too. I won’t stop looking for him, okay?”

Your lips tremble, trying not to burst into tears in the chip aisle. Your voice comes out cracked and hushed from the effort. “Thank you.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Mhm.”

You finish shopping in a slight daze and make the walk home to find Bakugou waiting for you outside.

“Get what you wanted?” he asks, quiet.

“No,” you whisper. You can’t find it in you to brush past him. All that’s waiting in your apartment is two more heroes who could probably read your face like a book even if they hadn’t grown up with you. 

“Shinso called? Didn’t know you two still talked.” Bakugou quirks an eyebrow as you look at him in surprise. Surprise that quickly morphs right into anger, your eyes starting to burn hot.

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” You only barely stop yourself from yelling.

“Take it down a notch,” he snaps, glaring right back at you. “The prick sent me a text before you got back. The fuck you think I’m waiting out here for, huh? Are you okay or fucking not?”

“No!” you wail, throwing the bag at him. Bakugou’s scowl deepens but he doesn’t flinch, the snacks hitting the pavement dully. “What part am I supposed to be okay about? My brother is missing, and he isn’t safe! Katsuki they might destroy him, he might not– might never—” Your voice dissolves into a wet sob and you crumble into his chest when Bakugou steps forward and yanks you roughly into a hug. He tucks your head into the crook of his arm and lets you cry, lets you clutch at him for stability, releasing all the pent-up stress that you haven’t been able to let out since Kirishima’s agency contacted you two days ago. 

“What if he’s not Ei anymore? Katsuki, what if they break him?” you finally whisper, hugging him tighter.

His heartbeat is steady and fierce in your ear; his voice is a dangerous rumble against your cheek. 

“I’ll kill them.”

[awkward-teabag]

One of the wild things about touch starvation is how it makes you hyper aware of any and all touch. It’s not sexual or romantic or anything like that, it’s simply your mind being blown at human contact. It is so out of the norm that you can’t not notice it.

[headheartbellarke]

Paper Rings | OWEN JOYNER

Requested by anon: “Owen request? A series of events that leads Owen to finally working up the courage to propose to his girlfriend?” PAIRING(s): Owen Joyner x fem!reader WARNING(s): some language, mentions of abuse, panic attack, anxiety, and fluff haha WORDS: 3.7k SUMMARY: Five times Owen almost asks his girlfriend to marry him, and one time he actually does.

0.

    Charlie looks around, feeling out of place amongst the big mirrors, bright lights, and the sparkling diamonds. When his best friend, Owen, told him that he wanted a ‘guys night’ (he’s still unsure as to why he wants to have one: they live together, it’s guys’ night every night – he was expecting bars, or clubs, or fancy restaurants; things they don’t get to do every night, because of work. But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be dragged into a jewellery store.

  “O, buddy, what are we doing here?”

  Owen shushes him, walking ahead to a counter. A woman with kind eyes greets him. “Mr. Joyner!”

  He smiles, familiarity pooling in his eyes.

  Charlie frowns. He didn’t expect Owen to be into jewellery – sure, he buys stuff for his sister and mother, but he always takes them with him.

  He thinks of Y/N, Owen’s girlfriend of about five years – there’s a possibility that he may be buying something for her, but it’s highly unlikely. Y/N has been pretty vocal about the fact that she hates diamonds, and who’s to blame her, really? Her father used to buy her mother a diamond necklace after every time he hit her or when he came home smelling of another woman’s perfume.

  Charlie exclaims, “Owen! I’m gonna die if you don’t tell me what’s going on!”

   “I know, I know.” He shushes him, again, and Charlie feels like a child, even though he’s older than the blonde boy. Owen turns to the woman in front of him, Miranda, as her name tag reads, and says, “I hope it’s ready.”

  She nods, excitedly. “Yes! I have it right here with me.”

  She disappears beneath the counter, and Charlie expects her to return with a big box, like a magician’s apprentice. But, instead, she emerges with a small, tiny box and he wonders –

  As realization dawns upon him, he feels a rush of euphoria. “Oh my god, are you –”

  Owen nods, his face aglow with anticipation, hope and adoration. “I – I walked into this store a couple of weeks ago, after I decided that I wanted to marry her, I mean, I’ve known it for a while, you know? I can’t see myself being with anyone but her for the rest of my life, and I want a family with her. She’s my soulmate, dude. And I – I think it’s the right time, too. She’s got that amazing job, and my career’s going great, so, yeah. I wanna marry her.”

  Charlie sniffs, feeling tears at the back of his eyes. “Bro.”

  His friend grins. “Bro.”

  Charlie pulls him into a hug, but Owen pushes him away, and they swat each other’s hands for a second before Owen whisper shouts, “Do you wanna see the ring or not?!”

  Charlie’s eyes widen and he nods. They turn to the woman in front of them, and she points to the box placed on the counter before them. “If you’re ready.”

  Owen nods, and Charlie feels amazed at the determination clouding his irises. He opens the box, and the Canadian boy gasps.

  Inside sits a simple platinum ring. Except at the middle, there’s a diamond shaped like a star. It’s so beautifully built, every edge looking like they’re fit to cut steel. And the entire ring – it’s so simple, yet beautiful, and Charlie knows why he picked it.  

  It’s a mirror of the way Owen sees Y/N – something gorgeous, something priceless, something elegant, yet something so simple to him, and something that will always makes sense, no matter what.

1.

    Owen inhales, staring at his reflection in the full body length mirror in front of him. He’s going to do it today – he is going to ask his best friend, his soulmate and the love of his life to marry him. He has planned it all – even Charlie went out with the rest of the cast tonight to give the twenty-three-year-olds some privacy. (Charlie, Y/N, and Owen live together in Vancouver, at least while shooting the fourth season of Julie and The Phantoms, so, as one can guess, it’s really difficult to get a moment alone – but since the both of them love Charlie so fucking much, they don’t really mind.)

  He straightens his tie and hears soft footsteps in the hallway outside his room. Y/N’s head pokes in, her face lit up like Christmas lights.

   “Don’t you look sharp!” She says, while walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his torso. Owen smiles, catching her eyes in the reflection. “Are the bad puns ever going to stop?”

  She gasps, dramatically, and exclaims, “You don’t gotta be so mean about it!”

  He shakes his head, and feels love swell in his chest for the woman behind him. “I love you so much, you know that, right?”

  A mischievous glint appears in her eyes. “I could use a reminder.”

  Owen grins, turning backwards and cups her face in his hands, about to kiss her, when a voice stops him.

  “I think I just broke the coffee machine!”

  Y/N’s eyes widen, and she yells, “You did what?!”

  Owen’s brows furrow. “Is that –”

  She casts him an apologetic glance. “Zoe, yeah. I forgot to tell you, but Cece had to go out last minute, so I offered to watch her for the evening!”

  Usually, Owen loves kids, especially Y/N’s cousins like Zoe, but right now, he feels like jumping off a cliff. She seems to sense that as she runs her hands down his arms, and says, “I’m sorry! I know you said that tonight was gonna be just us, but you love Zoe, don’t you? And it’s gonna be fun, I promise!”

  It’s not. Owen had booked a table at Y/N’s favorite restaurant in Vancouver, and he would have proposed midway through the dinner, when the musicians there would start to play ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift, and when they got to the bridge, he would have dropped to a knee.

  Ignoring the weight in his chest, he plasters a smile on his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry, I just – it’s been a while since we’ve been alone, you know? With work and all. But I’m sure it’s gonna be great with Zoe, too!”

  She nods. “Thank you. We can go out alone next week when Charlie has that photoshoot with Madi!”

  He nods. “Absolutely.”

  The little black box stays hidden in the pocket of the beige coat in his closet that he never wears.

2.

    As Y/N smiles at him, Owen thinks that this is it. This is the moment he’s gonna ask her to marry him.

  As the light from the fire illuminates her face, he thinks about how perfect this weekend has been. After long days, and even longer nights of filming, they finally got a weekend off, and Charlie immediately booked a cabin in North Vancouver.

  And there’s no one better at planning trips than Charlie.

  Along with Owen, Y/N, and Charlie; Madison, Jadah, Jeremy and his wife, Carolynn, Savannah, Sacha, and Tori are here, too, everyone basking in the peace. Throughout the weekend, they’ve done anything and everything they can do in snow – from skiing, to making snow angels, and finally, as the shades of evening rolled on the last day of their trip, they are tired.

  After dinner, everyone wordlessly returned to their rooms, and Owen knows that they’re all fast asleep, right now – except Y/N, who is still as bubbly as champagne.

  When they returned to their room, Y/N quickly lit the fire – because no matter if it’s snowing or if it’s fifty degrees outside – she is always freezing.

  It’s the opposite in Owen’s case, though – he’s always warm, and that’s why Y/N wasted no time to settle in his lap.

  Owen quickly pats his pocket to check if the ring’s still there. It is, and it’s been there for the whole weekend. He’s been searching for opportunities, but they were always either with someone, or it wasn’t a good time.

  “O?” She asks, her voice soft.

  “Hmm?” He replies, threading his fingers through her hair.

  Her eyes brighten up, putting the fire in front of them to shame. “I’ve just had an idea.”

  “Later. First, I have something to ask you.” He says, his hand reaching into his pocket again.

  She smiles. “I know what you’re gonna ask.”

  Owen’s surprised. “You do?”

  She nods excitedly. “Yeah. Charlie told me!”

  He must have had a horrified look on his face because her eyes widen quickly. “Oh, he didn’t want to, believe me! But, now that I know, tell me, when are you gonna do it?”

  Owen stammers, suddenly feeling breathless in this room. The anxiety starts to pool in his stomach, along with an anger, directed towards Charlie. “I – I – I can’t believe he told you this…”

  She shrugs. “You know that he can’t hide anything from me. He’s like the brother I never asked for. Anyway, so he was showing me some of the designs, and I love you, but I don’t think you can handle a tooth piercing.”

  Owen’s brows furrow. “What?”

  “Like, totally no offence, but you passed out when the dentist came to do a routine check up on your teeth. I don’t wanna imagine what would happen if you got them pierced.”

  “What are talking about?!”

  “Charlie and your matching piercings, dummy! What else would I be talking about?” She looks at him as if he’s grown a third head.

  Owen’s lips part. “We are not getting matching piercings – I wasn’t gonna ask you that!”

  “Oh!” Her eyes widen. “What were you gonna ask, then?”

  He gulps, thinking to himself – this is it. This is it. This is it.

  “Do you wanna go home for New Year’s?”

  He mentally curses when that question comes out of his mouth, and even with Y/N’s bright smile, he starts to feel queasy inside, knowing that he still isn’t confident enough to actually ask her.

3.

    Owen wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and stands up. “Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

  She nods, her eyes sweeping across the mostly empty LA beach. He brought her here today to finally ask her to marry him – his past attempts have been nothing short of disastrous.

  As he opens his mouth, he feels a pang in his heart, and his mind starts to race. All kinds of thoughts race through his mind, like – what if she says no? what if she hates him for ruining what they have? What if Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift becomes his most relatable song? What if she –

  Y/N stands up, and her hand finds that of Owen’s, a reassurance, and he knows that she can sense his anxiety. She doesn’t ask him to talk about it – she knows that he will, eventually, when he’s ready. For now, she shows him that she’s here for him, and somehow that is enough.

  As she brushes his hair, his mind starts to calm down, his erratic breathing slowing down and involuntarily matching the pace of her breathing. She whispers, softly, “You’re okay. You’re safe. Everything is okay. You’re okay. I love you. I love you –”

  She keeps repeating that, until it’s like a mantra in Owen’s head, turning the racing thoughts to mere background noise.

  He opens his eyes, and looks into hers, and finally feels calm. He exhales. “That… uh....”

  She nods, comfort flooding through her eyes. “I know, baby. But it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  He shakes his head, taking his hand in hers. “I – I – I think that maybe you and I should, uh, get – um, matching tattoos. Yeah. That’s what I wanted to ask you.” He lies.

  She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Of course. You don’t even have to ask – we’ve always talked about it, and I think that now is the perfect time! Do you wanna –”

  As Y/N talks about designs, he thinks that he’s a fucking coward.

4.

    As Owen laughs, he feels confident, for once. He knows that tonight he’ll be able to ask her to marry him, especially in front of all his family – he loves his family, and so does Y/N and vice versa. He remembers the first time he brought her home three months after they’d started dating. He remembers feeling absolutely euphoric about the fact that she fit right in with his family. That was also the day that she had told him, for the first time, that she loves him.

  He looks around the table, and watches Y/N talk animatedly to his mother. His parents think of her as their own daughter, especially after finding out about her rocky relationship with her father. Y/N’s mother sits next to Owen, and he loves how carefree she looks – her ex-husband, really, was an asshole.

  He takes the little box out of his pocket, and his cousin, Elias, gasps. “Is that an engagement ring?” He whispers, his face scrunching as if the sentence left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Owen nods. “Yes. Elias, I would appreciate it if you kept it down.”

  His cousin raises his hands. “Always, homie.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Right.”

  Elias looks around. “Hey, do you think that it’s a good idea to propose now?”

  “What do you mean?” Owen’s brows furrow.

  “I mean people do it in private for a reason. What if she says no and then you get embarrassed in front of your entire family and hers? It’s sympathetic looks for the rest of your life, bro. And your parents wouldn’t be able to talk to her, nor to her mom, ‘cause it’d be, ya know, friggin’ embarrassing. Everyone’s probably gonna hate you.”

  Owen’s eyes widen, and he toys with the truth in his cousin’s words. Elias shrugs, and takes a sip of his water. “But it’s up to you, dude.”

  Slowly, Owen slides the ring back into his pocket.

5.

    Owen looks around, checking if any distractions could be in this room. None. How could it, though? He’s standing in an empty classroom, in the middle of winter break. Nobody in their right minds would be here.

  Well, that would mean that Owen’s not in his right mind. To be really, really, really honest – he is kind of losing it. He has been trying to propose to Y/N for the past month, but every time – every god damn time, something comes up and ruins everything.

  So, he decided to break into his middle school. Well, ‘break into’ isn’t the right phrase – he asked the guard to give him the keys for the night, and even thanked him with a hundred dollar note. Unlike his girlfriend, he’s incapable of breaking rules.

  The guard thought that it was very romantic of him, but really, he’s just tired and wants to get married already. He taps his foot anxiously, and finally hears the door opening, signalling Y/N’s arrival.

  God, she looks absolutely adorable. Her nose is crimson from the cold, and she is bundled under what seems to be ten layers of clothing. She huffs, grinning when she notices him.

  “Are we here to make out? Because your house was much more comfortable and so, so warm.”

  Owen shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Well, are you gonna murder me, O? Because, well, it’s certainly the perfect location.”

  “I have to tell you something.” He says, taking a step toward her. He looks around and sees that there is nothing that could possibly ruin this moment, and smiles brightly, preparing himself. Y/N’s eyes gleam with anticipation, as she nods for him to continue.

  “Y/N, I still remember the day that I met you. I remember the way you smiled at me even though I had spilled black coffee all over you and ruined your very pretty, white dress.”

  She laughs. “I was really mad at first, yeah. But the cutest boy in all of Oklahoma was in front of me, and well, you know that I was a goner.”

  He smiles fondly. “And the beautifulest girl in the world was in front of me.”

  “That’s not a word.”

  “I know. And then you laughed at my dumb jokes, and even agreed to go on a date with me.”

  “To compensate for that absolutely gorgeous dress.” She clarifies, a teasing smile on her face.

  He grins sheepishly. “And then somehow, somewhere we fell in love, and somehow, you became my other half, and somehow, I can’t imagine a world without you. I don’t want to. You are my best friend, and you are the one person around whom I can be completely myself and face no judgements.”

  “No, I do judge you. You’re a little questionable.”

  “And what would I do without your wicked sense of humour?”

  “Honestly? You’d be lost without me. I mean, you forget to even put your socks in the washing machine.”

  “You’re not supposed to wash them. They go on your feet. Obviously.”

  “That is disgusting, and you know it.”

  He laughs. “I wanna be with you for the rest of my life, and I… I… I want a family with you, you know? I know that we’ve never talked about this, and I don’t know how you would feel about one, but still, if you’re up for it, I’m too. But, if you don’t, that’s okay, too. More than okay.”

  For a moment, an unrecognizable expression crosses her face, and he wonders if he’s hurt her. But then the biggest smile blooms on her face.

  “We should have talked about this. But I would like a family with you, too. I mean, I’ve never really wanted one, and you know why. But, after seeing you and your family, I realized that a part of me does want it. I do want to have the home that I never got to have with you and I wanna do better. I know that you’ll be an amazing dad, and I wanna raise my kid the way that kids should be raised. And I want it with no one else but you.”

  Owen feels as if he’s on cloud nine, and he stares at her for a moment, wondering how lucky he is to find a girl like her. He says, “Y/N, I –”

  Before he can ask her the question, though, her ringtone cuts through the silence of the empty classroom. She whispers an apology and takes her phone out from her jeans pocket.

  She accepts the call and speaks into the phone. “Hey, Luka, what’s up? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Luka, slow down.”

  She exchanges a panicked look with Owen.

  Speaking of Owen, he’s losing it. Absolutely. He was so close. And for the first time, he had both confidence and hope. And something had to happen. He starts to feel annoyed at Luka, his sister, and then immediately feels bad about it, but then starts to feel annoyed again.

  “Oh no, you did what? Do you need me to come?”

  At Y/N’s last sentence, Owen bursts out. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

  Y/N raises her brows at him. He feels anger replacing all his emotions, anger towards the world, it’s timings, and mostly, towards himself.

  Sensing his rage, Y/N gives him a weird look. “What is wrong with you?” She whispers.

  “Everything. Everything is wrong!” He whispers back.

  He starts to feel breathless, and the familiar sensation of a panic attack starts to overcome him. He looks around, trying to focus on something, anything, when he spots the door.

  He looks at his girlfriend, and says, “I love you, but I’m gonna lose it.” With that, he walks by her, and out the doors, while she yells after him.

+1.

    It’s been twenty minutes since he last talked to Y/N, and he has lost all hope. He’s now sitting on a park bench a couple of minutes away from the school, and he is listing all the reasons why his life is absolutely shit.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Owen looks up, and notices Y/N walking up to the bench, with a concerned look in her eyes.

  “I – I just… I’ve been trying to ask you something, Y/N, for the past month. And every time I try to do it, I’m either interrupted, or I’m not confident enough. And, today, there were no distractions, and I was finally feeling confident and hopeful and then my sister decides to ruin it – is she okay, by the way?”

  She nods and sits down beside him. “Yeah, she misplaced her dress for tonight.”

  He grits his teeth in annoyance. He loves her, but his sister has the worst timing.

  Y/N rests a hand on his, an odd look taking over her features. “You should know by now that the answer will always, and obviously be a yes.”

  Owen sharply turns towards her. “What?”

  A brilliant smile makes its way onto her face. “You are gonna propose, aren’t you?”

  A gasp involuntarily escapes him. “How’d you know?”

  “Well, you just said some pretty nice things about me. Also, I can see the outline of the ring box, and you keep checking your pocket for it every two minutes, even if you don’t realize it. You’re literally doing it right now.”

  In his defence, he wasn’t, or rather, isn’t consciously doing it. He slowly retracts his hand from his pocket and gives her a sheepish smile.

  She stands up. “Really, O, are you gonna do it or not –”

  “Yep, yep, yep.” He clears his throat and stands in front of her and drops to a knee. He takes the ring out, and flips open the box, and as the diamond’s reflected light dances across her face, Y/N gasps.

  “Oh my god, that’s gorgeous!”

  He grins. “I have great taste.”

  She smiles teasingly. “I know, baby.”

  “Will you ma–”

  “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

  “You didn’t even let me finish!”

  “Someone would’ve probably interrupted you and I couldn’t take the chance of you losing your shit again.”

  “You do have a point.”

  “I always do.”

  He slides the ring onto her finger, and she kneels in front of him to match their heights. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he wraps his around her waist, both desperate to be closer, closer, closer.

  “I love you so much.” He whispers into her hair, and she kisses his shoulder.

  “I love you. Forever.”

  She untangles herself from him, and as she kisses him, Owen realizes that he had no reason to be worried at all.

[MASTERLIST]

reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

Hi!!! I've just gotten my wisdom teeth removed and I'm emotional wrecked. Who knew I would miss those little shits? Anyway, could you maybe write something short about Y/n having her wisdom teeth removed and being super sad and in pain and Harry is just there to help her feel better? I love your writing and honestly read all of your work twice at the least. ILY

ANESTHESIA AND LETTING GO

(She would stare at him like he was god’s single greatest gift to humanity.)

“You’re gonna take care of me?” she garbled, gaping so he could see the gauze squished into her mouth and a little bit of blood trickling out of the recent incisions. He tried both not laughing or wincing, but couldn’t help an endeared little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at her genuinely awed expression, as if she couldn’t believe he was actually there. Thsy’d had to remind her a few times that he was her boyfriend, which worried him a bit at first—he reckoned he’d watched The Vow a few too many times.

“Yes, lovie,” he’d rasped, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest as he brushed away a lock of hair that was dangling dangerously close to her open mouth. This seemed to cheer her up, because she made a contented little cooing noise, the kind you would expect to come from a woodland creature or a baby, before nuzzling her cheek against his knuckles, gazing up at him shyly while blushing a bit. The older dentist in the room had sighed wistfully while passing by for her post-operative check-up, while her younger assistant sniffed jealously. Loopy from drugs or not, y/n took one look at the woman’s lustful gaze on harry’s bottom and glared at her fiercely, mouth full of gauze. He’d said he was her boyfriend, hadn’t he? That made her his girlfriend and thus perfectly eligible to grab his...

“Oh!” Harry yelped in surprise when y/n’s hands reached behind him and greedily squeezed a handful of his bubbly bottom, a gesture usually performed the other way round, not that he was protesting.

“She’s a bit loopy,” Harry explained sheepishly, a little pink in the cheeks, to the dental assistant, who was now huffing and sneering down at her clipboard. y/n simply batted her eyelashes, mouth still wide open, while Harry gently placed her hands down and she sneakily let them travel down his back and then deliver a firm smack to his backside.

“I can see that,” the assistant muttered darkly. She stuck her nose up in the air, and marched out of the room.

Satisfied that her nemesis was out of the picture, y/n settled back into the chair politely and thought back to what Harry had said before about how he was gonna take care of her and how the smooth planes of his perfectly sculpted face had felt against her cheek; thoughts that once again send blood rushing to her cheeks, and send her into a fit of cute giggles, staring up at the ceiling but not particularly anything as she does so with fingers pressed slightly to her puffy lips.

“Proper spanked me in front of the dental assistant only moments ago, love, and now you’re goin’ all blushy on me,” Harry teased lowly, his own dimple poking out as this sent his girlfriend into even louder giggles, ones that she covered with her hands.

After leaving the dentist’s office, however, things had quickly taken a turn for the worse once the drugs slowly exited y/n’s system. dental pain is quite arguably one of the most excruciating pains to exist on the face of this planet. especially if you’re the one going through it. and besides the physical pain...y/n seemed to be having some attachment issues to her teeth, as well.

“...Harry?” y/n whimpered, curling further into her boyfriend’s chest and looking dolefully up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His forest green eyes flitted to hers in surprise of her sudden wakefulness. She’d been silent most of the car ride back, after ten minutes of initial happiness and humming his songs loudly under her breath. Once they were back home, she’d clung to his side, and he had to carry her up the steps to their flat, bridal style, because she was kind of flopping all over the place, but he didn’t mind an excuse to hold her so close to him. He helped her into a jersey that smelled just like him to comfort her while she was still neurotically out of it, her cheek squished to his chest while he put Tiger King on Netflix, but admittedly paid more attention to he, looking down every now and then to see a deep-set frown on her fresh face.

“What is it, baby?” he asked. She decided he loved his voice as he talked to her like this, because it was low and pleasant and he took his time saying each word, so it rolled off his tongue like syrup with authenticity and an accent that knew no exact heritage, but Harry. His green eyes were attentive, fingers stroking down her back. “do you need anything?”

“I hurt,” she sniffled, lips trembling. He pouted in response, turning over so he could hold her properly, hips melding together.

“‘M sorry. Do you want more medicine?”

“No,” she said indignantly, like it was obviously not what she would want.

“You sure?” he asked slowly, eyebrows raising. “I thought it hurt?”

“Not that,” she shook her head, eyes shifting to her nervously twisting fingers heartbreakingly. her lips trembled a bit, and Harry grew alarmed. He was him, so he’d naturally spent hours on WebMd, reading up on the side-effects of even such a common procedure as wisdom teeth removal. Had the dentist damaged the crowns of any other teeth? had she hurt y/n’s gums? what if—

“What’s wrong then, hm?”

“I— I just...” she burst into tears, sobs breaking as she choked out an explanation. In a hushed voice, she confessed: “I miss my wisdom teeth!”

He blinked once. Twice.

“You...” he paused. “Miss your teeth?”

y/n nodded, big eyes filling with tears again at the mention of her long departed acquaintances.

“Like...they were always there for me, you know?” she garbled, tears slipping down her face as Harry frantically tries to swipe them off her cheeks with his own thumbs, while also confirming that his girlfriend has, indeed, finally lost it.

“I mean,” Y/N took a deep breath before diving into a heartfelt monologue dedicated to her teeth. “I could be going through the worst day ever, and i could be a total bitch and most people would probably leave, but my teeth never left me. and like, they never even wanted to leave and they were always there, but I never even tried to make them feel wanted,” she sniffled, blinking back tears dramatically while Harry rubbed the small of her back, handing her a tissue she blew her nose into. “I know that humans don’t need them to chew on raw animals anymore, but...can you imagine how that feels?” She empathized, emotion in her voice, “to constantly be there for this total bitch and then she just wakes up one day and feels a pinch in her mouth—“

“Not a pinch,” Harry muttered defensively, recalling Y/N screaming bloody murder the night before, but unsure as to why he’s defending her from...her.

“—and decides to tear them apart, evicting from the only place they’ve ever really known. I didn’t even say goodbye, and it makes my heart sad,” Y/N aid so defeatedly, it kind of breaks Harry’s heart, too.

“And you know the worst thing,” she whispered brokenly: “they never even saw it coming.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he stated, wiping away her tears delicately, watching her face until each one was gone, a bare sniffle the only reminder she’d been crying. “I love you too much to let you do this to yourself. We’re gonna watch a rom-com, and...”

“But, I never even named them!” she gasped wetly. He ignored her as she murmured alejandro, wisdom the wisdom tooth, and other potential names for her deceased teeth; while simultaneously contemplating if she could break into the dentist’s dustbin and maybe sneak back her teeth.

But when the day comes to an end and the drugs are flushed out of Y/N’s system, Harry takes care of her. He makes sure Y/N’s getting enough water and eating well; sets a timer to wake her up from her naps and feed her the bitter medicine her scowl suggests she wouldn’t take if it weren’t for him. He would make sure to replace her gauze even if she’s a bit squirmy from all the blood in her mouth, and most definitely wouldn’t be stingy when it came to cuddling; squeezing her so tight with his strong arms, trying his best to minimize the pain as much as possible. that meant pressing light kisses to her puffy cheeks. When she’d be up from an aching mouth, he’d be the one putting his hand under her jaw, massaging lightly, to help relieve some of the ache. He make sure her food was soft and the right consistency, and hold back her hair when Y/N’d inevitably puke from the taste of her medicine, or soothingly rub his warm hand over her back when she was tremoring from the anesthesia leaving her freezing.

“Are you staying?” Y/N asked in the morning, yawning as Harry pulled her up to his chest, stroking her hair.

“Yes,” he nodded, lips pressed to the side of her forehead. “Unless you want me to go.”

Because like her wisdom teeth, Harry would never let go.

MASTERLIST

[likeshipsonthesea]

post script poetry

okay i’m going to preface this with a lot of rambling so buckle up my dudes

i started this i don’t know how long ago when i saw a post about how fun it would be if dex ended up being the one to wax poetic about nursey and i saw it and thought the only way that would happen would be by accident, like if he was complaining and started getting mushy

so i wrote this. like, half of this. and then tonight i found it and i liked it and finished it. so here you go. and yes, i did this instead of fulfilling the hozier prompts. sorry not sorry?

Hey Lardo,

I attached my schedule for the week of the 15th. Depending on how long you need me, I can also work this week. I know the sculpture doesn’t have to be done until the end of the month, but I also know how you get close to a deadline. Let me know if any of the free times work for you-- if not, we’ll figure something out.

Dex

P.S. I was going to text this, but since I’m typing I might as well tell you that there’s a horrifying new regular at the café. Every time he comes in he orders something so convoluted and complicated that he has to be fucking with me, and the drinks are so damn sweet he must need to see a dentist every weekend. He walks in with this stupid fucking smirk on his face too, like he derives joy from ruining a perfectly nice--okay well not nice but I’m perfectly civil to customers at least-- barista’s day.

He’s come in consistently for three weeks now. Pray for me.

P.P.S. Did I mention that he’s taken to sitting at a table with nothing but his stupid sweet drinks and a journal for hours on end? Sometimes he’ll buy a muffin and try to talk to me, like I’m not fucking working. Asshole.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

5 on Wednesday works for me. Should I bring anything aside from the regular tools?

Dex

P.S. It doesn’t matter if he’s attractive but since you asked, yes, but only in the way that statues are attractive. They’re carved and perfected and gorgeous, yeah, but when you look at them you’re admiring it, idolizing it-- your own inferiority is entangled in the attraction.

P.P.S. And no, I’m not telling you his name.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

Sorry to hear about the issues with the sculpture. The earliest I can come for emergency repairs would be tomorrow after work. Hope it holds together until then.

Sorry,

Dex

P.S. This seems to be a theme in our emails, but I’m mentioning this only because it literally just happened. The horrible regular was just here in a sweater and jeans. A sweater and jeans. It’s fucking snowing. Below freezing, high teens, stupid kind of cold, and the guy left his jacket home for what? To show the world how pretty he looks in that sweater? The asshole probably looked in the mirror and thought that people noticing how the green in the sweater enhanced the fucking tree top, sea-glass shiny green of his own eyes was more important than not getting frost bite. And he looked so fucking proud of himself too, smiling all big and wide and stupid like his lips weren’t chattering! And then he stayed in the shop forever, obviously, because he can’t go out in the cold wearing nothing and he just sat there and wrote in his stupid journal and looked over at me with his fucking budding-leaves-at-the-beginning-of-spring eyes like he knew how infuriating he was. That kind of stupidity just pisses me off.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

Was going through my messages and saw the last thread. How are the repairs holding up?

Dex

P.S. Shut up.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Glad the emergency repairs are holding. The piece looks great so far, I can’t wait to see the finished product at the end of term.

Dex

P.S. I’m not going to fuck an asshole just because he’s pretty.

P.P.S. Don’t bring up the LAX bro.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

My phone crapped out in the middle of a shift so I’ll be communicating via email for the next few days. I’ve got a bunch of leftover muffins from work. Want me to drop by the studio on the way home?

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

I’ll grab all the banana nut and any double chocolates that look good. See you soon.

Dex

P.S. Just because we’re on email doesn’t mean you have to ask about my horrible regular. But yes, to answer your question, he is still a regular and maybe a little less horrible, thank God.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Okay, I’ll get some blueberry ones for Shitty too.

Dex

P.S. Well, he’s less horrible because his orders-- while still stupidly complicated and overly fucking sweet-- have narrowed down to one of two options, so I know what they are now. When he lists off all of the stupid steps, I can just ignore him and stare at nothing, or how he gestures with his hands when he speaks and barely avoids knocking over the tip jar. I guess it’s nice that he talks with his hands, though, because sometimes when he’s sitting at a table and writing his hands start shaking and I much prefer the gesturing to that.

Also he seems to have decided to wear a coat for the foreseeable future, and even if it’s this deep green pea coat that probably cost more than what I make in a month, it looks good on him-- aesthetics and functionality, at least he’s compromising. It’s like cut or whatever, so you can still see the line of his waist, tight to his chest and everything. And he has a matching beanie that doesn’t seem that warm, but he tugs it down just over the tips of his ears and a few of his curls above his forehead poke out of it, all soft looking and stuff. He still needs gloves though.

But, I guess, overall he’s less horrible.

*~*~*

Lardo,

The sculpture looks great! And with the deadline still a week away you have a bunch of time to do all your last little nit-picky things.

Dex

P.S. Okay reading over that last post-script I do sound a little mushy, but in my defense I was coming off a double shift and I’d had a big deadline for CS the night before and I definitely wasn’t all there. This cannot be held against me.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Just because you put it in the P.S. doesn’t make it okay. I am not In Love with anyone, especially not the guy who writes poetry on the twenties he leaves in the tip jar.

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

Why does that matter?

Dex

*~*~*

FINE some of it was other people’s stuff-- I googled it and some were Emily Dickinson I think? Some of the lines didn’t return anything, so I guess they were original? Anyway it doesn’t matter-- he’s defacing money.

Dex

*~*~*

Your idea of romantic is weird.

*~*~*

Hey Lardo,

I can’t get my phone fixed until Sunday, but I wanted to double check that your show is on Saturday at 7:00PM?

Thanks,

Dex

*~*~*

Lardo,

Thanks for clarifying.

Dex

P.S. Actually yeah, I guess there was an update, or whatever.

So he came in with a book last night, late. Not a lot of people come by the cafe at night, obviously, so it was just me and him, and he was there for a while but then we were closing. I went over to tell him we were closing in a few minutes and he asked if I’d sit with him for a few minutes and, well, he’s a nice tipper, so whatever. I did.

And then-- I shit you not-- he started reading me poetry. Actually. Just started reading poetry to me out of nowhere. He’d gesture with his notebook as he did it, his eyes were all lit up like treetops at sunrise or something and his voice just filled up the whole shop, like it was bouncing off the walls and going through me and shit, like he was trying to make me listen in my soul or something. And, like, I’m shit at poetry and I didn’t really get what it was supposed to be, but you know when you hear a song and even without really hearing the lyrics it makes you feel some kind of way? That’s what it did.

Then he stopped reading and asked me what I thought and I couldn’t just say that it made me feel things so I said that the guy in the poem sounded kind of obsessed, and then the guy-- the regular-- laughed, like a full bodied laugh, his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook and he tucked the notebook against his chest, against his heart, and laughed in public, in front of a stranger, like it wasn’t weird. And you know when something good happens? Something unexpectedly good? Your favorite song comes on the radio or you find a random twenty in your pocket or you catch the sunset on your walk home and its pretty and warm and just makes you smile and think, huh, I’m glad I get to be here for that.

That’s what his laugh felt like. I know it’s fucking sappy but it’s the only way I can come up with to describe it.

Anyway. See you Saturday.

*~*~*

Lardo,

Yeah.

I’m fucked.

Dex

*~*~*

Hey, fuck, I’m so sorry about last night. My phone is still fucked up otherwise I’d call you but your friend-- the one in your painting, Nursey-- he’s my horrible regular.

Small campus, huh?

He was a little drunk-- he kept drinking the champagne for some reason, I think it was to stop his hands shaking, I don’t know-- but I didn’t want to just send him off alone so I helped him back to his dorm and as I was taking off his shoes he kept reciting poetry or whatever and he was drunk, yeah, but he said it so nicely and he kept looking at me with his ridiculous eyes and then he touched my cheek-- like actually fucking caressed my cheek-- and I kissed him.

And I know he was drunk, I tasted the champagne when I kissed him, and I felt horrible and I ran out of his dorm and-- then I fell asleep and woke up and wrote this email.

So, I probably fucked up beyond repair and if you need me I will be kicking myself for the next fifty years. Thanks, goodbye.

Dex

P.S. I forgot to say-- the show looked great. The sculpture, the art, everything. You’re amazing, dude.

*~*~*

Thanks for his number, but I can’t just call the guy out of the blue and say, “Hey, sorry for kissing you when you were all drunk, won’t happen again, please keep tipping me?”

Also, I still don’t have a working phone.

*~*~*

That’ss the problem with falling in love with a stranger, youknow? Like, I never mett the guy really, I just made his stupid sweet coffee drinks and listened to his poetry that one time and stared too much when he talked with his hands and at his stupid eyebrows-- how do eyebrows look soft?? It makes no sense

And he’s beautiful, you know, like can’t stare too long or you’ll go blind, and I felt like he was a good person youknow, an asshole but good, the kind you want. And I could feel it he would probably argue with me over everything but I think I could likee that, like arguing, at least with him, because I know it wouldn’t be out of anger or whatever, he would be coming from a place of understanding or shared values or whatever

and i fucking KNOW that I can’t know all this frm looking at him, but he had his stupidd fucking g journal that he scrippled in all the time and his hadsn were covered in ink with notes to himself and I want to be the person who egts to listen to his poetry at 2 in the morning and watch him ramble about things he loves and tell him how fucking good his writing is because it IS lardo it’s so good, he’s so good, i never spent any of those twenties witb his writing on it i hung them in my dorm isnt’ that fucking stupid god i love him, i love him and I don’t even know him

Love scuks.

P..S yeah, if you couldnt tell, i’m a little drunk. oops

*~*~*

Dear Lardo,

It’s very rude to forward drunken, rambling emails about someone to that someone without the consent of the drunken rambler.

Dex

P.S. Thank you.

[bbuckyybbarness-blog]

Upstairs, Downstairs Part 1

Summary: A painfully shy dental assistant at the tower gets an unexpected group of friends, and with them comes a whole new world that she never bargained for.

EVENTUAL Bucky x Reader. Reader becoming close friends with the team, especially Steve.

Written in 1st Person, POV of the reader, unless otherwise stated.

TW: Swearing, extreme shyness, that’s really it for this chapter?

Word Count: 1455

A/N: Hi Dolls! So this is a request I received from the lovely Sascha (@loveyourselfcreateyourself). It started out as a one shot that is now going to be in a couple of parts, because as soon as I started writing it, I got carried away, my mind took over! Anyway, enough from me, I love all your support and feedback! Thank you so much <3

P.S – I have a Steve x Reader one shot that will be coming soon, and a Sebastian Stan x Reader piece ready to go, so keep your peepers open for those if you’re interested. Also, please let me know if you want to be permanently tagged in my stuff, as I’d be happy to oblige. Again, I love y’all –Rae xo

 1.       What the fuck have I got myself into?!

“Ugh.” The alarm, the stupidly loud, annoying alarm. Look, whoever told me that setting your favourite song as your alarm tone is a good idea, was a damn liar. “Time to get this show on the road Y/L/N”

I dragged my ass out of bed and started the routine. Brush my teeth, hop in the shower, dry myself, get dressed…well, you know the drill. The same old shit day in and day out. Not that I’m complaining, I have a good life. A good job, a steady wage, there’s really nothing I should complain about. But, and it’s a small but, I’m lonely. I know right, pass me the violin. I’m so shy that I can’t make friends easily, and when people talk to me, I freeze like a deer in the headlights. I’m so painfully shy, that I physically cannot talk to someone without looking like I’m in pain, and people mistake this for me being a stuck up bitch. I’m not, honestly I’m not, believe me, if I could talk to people without choking on the words, trust me, I would. It would make my job a million percent easier, and I might have even become a dentist by now, but such is life, things could be worse.

So, with that bombshell roaming around my head, and let’s face it, when is it not roaming around my head, I headed to work. I open the door and the crisp morning air slaps me in the face, as if to say, ‘wake up.’ I start my usual walk to the tower, overthinking the social interaction with the Chinese delivery boy last night, when I mindlessly check the time. 8;57?! Shit. I start at 9.

I sprint the entire way to the tower. I could give Usain Bolt a run for his money if I carry on the way I’m going. I was so focused on getting to the tower, that I wasn’t even thinking about the glass door. And yep, you guessed it, I run straight into it. At full speed. This sends me and my glasses flying to the ground. I pick myself up, dust off my uniform and reach around for my glasses. Like Velma, from Scooby Doo. When I finally find them, they’re broken.

‘Shit, great, this is perfect, fan-dabby-fucking-dozy’ I mutter to myself, ‘And now I’m five minutes late, for fucks sake.” Time to face the music, and probably get fired.

“You’re late.” Dr Green never even looked up from his paper. This Professor Snape looking asshole was the bane of my very existence. The only thing I hate about work is this cretin.

“I know I am Sir, I am so very sorry, it won’t happen again, I had some trouble on the way here, and then I fell down, and broke my glasses and-“ I trailed off, explaining myself as quickly as I could to avoid being given the heave-ho.

“Not bothered, don’t care. So, you’re late to work, and show up blind. Brilliant. Fat lot of good you’re going to be today. Go and fetch in the next patient Y/L/N, IF you can see him,” Fuck this guy. He’s such an asshole. He manages to make me feel unqualified AND about two inches tall within 10 seconds. He insists on me calling him Sir or Dr, which automatically makes me hate him. I mean come on, you’re a fucking dentist dude. You don’t go saving people’s lives and shit on the regular. No, that’s what the Avengers are for. Asshole.

“Yes Sir.” I slam the door. God he pisses me off. “Thank god I did break my glasses, means I won’t have to look at your ugly mug all fuckin’ day” I mumble under my breath.

“Ooh shit, who pissed you off sweetie?”  Sam Wilson. Of course he heard you, and he was the patient today, brilliant. If your lateness didn’t give you the boot, cursing in front of an Avenger was certainly going to seal the deal.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry for the profanity, sir. No one was meant to hear that. Dr Green is ready for you“ And he laughs. No actually, he doesn’t laugh. He howls. This dude is screaming his ass off at me.

“What’s your name?” We could use someone who is a good laugh like that upstairs. Ease the tension” Upstairs. UPSTAIRS?! Upstairs is where they all live, upstairs is a no-go for people like me.

Oh, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I work for the ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ themselves. Well, not for them specifically, but we are the in-house, on call 24/7 dental practice for them. Which is basically the same thing, right? I mean in makes total sense, with the amount of fighting they do, they’re gonna be losing some teeth, or chipping them at least. And they need someone here all the time, to fix them back up again, and that’s where we come in. And hey, at least it means I’ll always have a job. Unless I’m ever late again.

“I’m-um-my name-is-Y/N. Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N, sir. It’s an honour to be working for you.” There he goes again, bent over in the waiting room, cackling.

“I could get used to that treatment.” He manages to breathe out between laughs.

“Sir, Dr Green is waiting?” I stumble over my words, as bloody usual.

“Oh shit yeah, sorry.”

I walk into the dental theatre and take my chair next to Green.

“Ok, Falcon, what seems to be the problem here?” he starts, as if it wasn’t obvious. The guy is missing a front tooth. Even I can see that and I’m half blind!

“Erm, well. My tooth got knocked out during a mission again.” He lifted his top lip to show the gap where it had been taken. After a little examination, Green turned around to me.

“Prepare Mr. Wilson’s moulds. He needs this doing as soon as possible. If you can see the file.” He makes my skin crawl and my palms itch.

“Certainly Sir, right away.” I smiled sickly sweet at him. Kill ‘em with kindness, it’s the only way to stop myself from killing him for real.

I know my job inside and out, I could do it in my sleep. I just lack the social confidence to take it a step further, and with Green putting me down all the damn time, I second guess myself. Anyway, the procedure went without a hitch and I was soon escorting Sam back to the reception area. I fumble around the desk to finish some last bits of paperwork for Sam before he leaves.

“Hey, Y/N. When are you on your lunch break?” Huh? What? Why is he asking?

“Oh, um, it’s at 1.30, sir.” There I go again, tripping over my words. The feeling I get in my chest when speaking to someone is what I’d akin to being stabbed feels like.

“Ok, well, why don’t you come upstairs for your lunch? Floor 47. I want you to meet the team. Without them having weapons of torture hanging out of their mouths. Unless Barnes gets snappy, then you have my full permission to poke him with a pointy metal object.” He laughs once again, he was being really kind, but if I’m like this with just him, what will I be like with the whole team all at once. Nuh-huh, no way, no how, I’d rather die.

“Er, Mr Wilson, I don’t think that-”

“Sam. Please, call me Sam. Or Falcon. Or Hot Stuff. Whatever works.”

“Ok then, Sam, I’m not sure that this is appropriate.” But it sure would piss off ole’ Greeny.

“1) It’s your lunch, you can do whatever you damn well please. 2) You don’t like Dr Green, and I imagine some time away from his ‘ugly mug’ will do you some good, and 3) I’m asking you to. You’re funny. You don’t need to be nervous, they’ll love you. Trust me, please Y/N? What have you got to lose?” Upstairs. I’ve been officially invited UPSTAIRS to have lunch with THE AVENGERS, THE FUCKING AVENGERS! This stuff never happens, ever. It’s like Downton Abbey, you have the high class upstairs, and the scullery maids and servants downstairs. It’s not like I can really see them anyway because of my glasses, it’s not as if I’m going to become friends with them. They’ll not even remember me until they come in with a cavity, and probably not even then. Fuck it, you only live once right?

“Ok Sam. I’ll be there. Floor 47. 1.30” a burst of energy runs through me, giving me a little pep in my step.

“Really?! That’s great! They’re gonna fuckin’ love you, I swear” That’s it, nothing more said. He’s gone. And I’m having lunch with the avengers.

What the fuck have I got myself into?

 TAGS: @cami23593 @alittlewerewolfgirl @electronicstrangerdaze @buenostardissherlock @blissful-fantasy @secretlittledelights @aelania @smilexcaptainx @maddierose0015 @barnes-toddpartnersinheartbreak @brokenanxiety (If any of ya’ll don’t want to be tagged in this or any future stories of mine. Please let me know. I thought I’d give you the option. –Rae xo)