!!! none of the images and dividers used are mine, only the writing! please do not repost my work as your own :,)
୭˚.✴︎ - Summary - Modern AU! Caitlyn Kiramman works with Maddie Nolen as police officers to find out the secrets that lurk inside The Last Drop. Maddie insists something shady is going on inside, having her own conspiracy theories meanwhile Cait believes the place is abandoned. One day, Caitlyn's world is rocked when a kind stranger pays for her coffee and although they part ways soon after, Cait's mind is shamelessly full of her for the days to come.
Underground fighter Vi throws punches to keep a roof over her head, keeping a low profile during the day to stay out of trouble. One morning, a selfless act mixed with some suave compliments lead her to meet someone new who she simply can't get off her mind. The more she tries to deny her feelings' depth, saying it's just casual, it only makes her desires worse.
୭˚.✴︎ - Read this work on AO3!
୭˚.✴︎ - Content warnings - Graphic depictions of violence, drug use, hurt no comfort, angst
Chapter 2: Oh, I will figure this one out, on my own.
୭˚.✴︎ - Word count - 2,5k
Vi let the phone ring once, twice, three times, hovering her finger over the “hang up” button. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, agitated from the energy boost the coffee she’d had earlier gave her. At least that’s what she would say if anyone asked her. The truth is that a certain navy-blue haired officer has spun her planet backwards from a simple five minute encounter.
“Why the hell are you calling me, Vi?” A deep voice resounded on the other side of the line, groggy and clearly pissed.
“Loris, where the fuck are you? I’m outside the gym, we were gonna train, remember?” Vi asked as soon as Loris picked up.
“Vi,” Loris said with a short pause “it’s eight in the fucking morning, we were gonna meet at eight in the EVENING. I’m going back to sleep, don’t bother calling again.” He hung up, leaving the line dead. Vi shoved her phone back into her pocket, sighing.
“Such a ball of sunshine, Loris.” She whispered to herself sarcastically, stepping inside the gym on her own. Wouldn’t hurt to train a bit in the morning, besides, it might help her feel less jumpy. How did she manage to mix up the hour so badly? Whatever, must’ve been yesterday’s concussion that hasn't fully worn off yet.
A gym membership was among the few “luxuries” that Vi could afford, it was a necessity considering her job. Vi thought of going to the gym as killing two birds with one stone: growing stronger, which allowed her to win fights, and getting her anger out on something, which helped her abstain from caving her opponents’ skulls in, since that meant not getting paid for the victory. It was difficult for her to find a low-cost gym which had a punching bag but after searching for a few weeks, she found the perfect one. The only downside to this gym was that it’s location, being situated on the opposite side of town meant walking more than an hour from her apartment since she couldn’t afford taking the subway, which gets tiring when you have to do it every single day after spending most nights getting your ass kicked.
Vi threw her phone into her locker, wrapping her hands with bandages and stepping out of the changing room. She had no clue where to start today, so she went straight to the punching bag, minimally warming up before she threw a left hook at it. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the gym, the punching bag rattling profoundly, causing the frame it hung on to wobble. Vi was ruthless with her punches, quick and hard, bouncing lightly on her feet, focusing more on the strength of her hits rather than their agility. She kept her breathing stable, in through her nose, out through her mouth, slow and controlled. “left-right, up” She repeated in her head, the combo she’d learned from Loris when she first started fighting, fast paced and brutal for anyone on the receiving end.
The gym was the place where she’d find herself most often, be it late nights or early mornings. The dulled red leather, covered in cracks always met her without judgement. It was a sack of sand, after all, of course it couldn’t spew snide remarks like her opponents did. The punching bag was much better compared to the filthy people she fought, it didn't bother with getting her riled up, never said “too slow!” or “is that really all you’ve got?”, it allowed her to focus properly, build her skills and hone her craft. Vi let her mind drift to the fight she had tonight, Gustave, again. It was the fifth time she’d fought him this month, she’d already learned the way he moved, the trajectory of his punches, even the way he breathes, gasping for air like a pig after the first two uppercuts. She smiled at the mental image of Gustave with a pig’s snout, serves him right for his shitty attitude. Vi had already met most of the fighters who came to The Last Drop, there were about fifteen “regulars” including her, she’d call them all “whatstheirface”, never bothering to learn their names.
Occasionally, there would be a wild card entry, usually someone passing through town, looking for a quick buck, who has had previous experience in underground fighting. Those fights were more fun, more money, people crowding to see the new face and how they fight. If they did good, they’d be offered to come regularly and fight but most of them never lasted more than two weeks, either quitting and leaving town or getting so battered up they’d become permanently disfigured and unable to fight. That’s partly why their pay was good enough for Vi to afford coming to the gym, get piercings and tattoos in a proper parlour occasionally, all that while keeping a roof over her head and food on her plate. Not everyone lasted the brutality of the fights in The Last Drop, be it mentally or physically. Vi did, though, because she had nothing worth fighting for, nothing she could lose. When she lost, it only affected her, nobody else went hungry because of her failure. When she won, the money was hers, she was the one who relished in the cheers of the crowd, the glory, the free drinks.
~~
The lights inside of The Last Drop were dim, shining a red color into the smoke filled room, the rancid smell of cigarettes, alcohol and bodily fluids easily crawled up your nose from the front door. Vi walked in with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, her metal boots clanging with every step she treaded down the old wooden stairs, which creaked in protest. She could hear the buzz of people, the lame music playing from the speakers, the laughs, the drunken yells, all of it gave her a sense of dread. Having to do this multiple times a week wasn't necessarily fun, not even when you won all (well, most) of your fights. Vi often wished she wouldn't have to, she would gladly settle for a boring job like a mall security guard or even a janitor. It was too late for her to turn back now, to leave this life behind was nearly impossible, she knew people would come after her, drag her back into the ring whether she liked it or not. So, she would rather pretend to do it of her own free will instead of being forced to. Today’s fight was going to be easy, she had that to look forward to, going up against Gustave, who's probably still recovering from last week’s beatdown, wouldn't be too much of a hassle.
Vi eyed the fighting ring in the center of the “VIP” room, blood crusted its initially white floor, painting it a murky shade of brown mixed with red. There were fresh splatters on the corners, probably from a recent fight. Making her way into one of the bathrooms to change, she pushed the door open with her elbow, not wanting to unnecessarily touch anything grimy, considering she was going to have to lay her hands on her gross opponent later tonight. She sat in front of the bathroom mirror, unscrewing the piercing inside her eyebrow, ears and tongue, placing the tiny metal bars inside of a pocket in her bag to keep them from getting lost. Her fighting “costume”, so to say, wasn’t much of a costume, it consisted of a pair of red and black, loose fitting shorts, a tight-fitting tank top and a pair of coloured wristbands. Others preferred to be flashy, mimicking WWE fighters, with wild makeup, chains, accessories, the sorts. To Vi, all of it accorded leverage, easier ways to grab, apprehend or tackle her opponent. Personally, she didn’t have the time or fucks to give to concoct an alter-ego or a persona. This was her job, not a hobby, not something she enjoyed doing, preferring to just get it over with.
After changing, Vi made her way “backstage”.
“How much did you say I was getting for this?” Vi asked, resting her forearms over her knees, staring the short-statured owner in his eyes while circling the worn bandages around her knuckles.
“Ask again,” Tommy brought a lighter to the cigarette in his mouth, “and I might change my mind about paying you.” he said, breathing the smoke out of his mouth.
“Oh come on! You call me here to fight the same guy for the umpteenth time, only to give me this shit again?” She scowled, averting her gaze back to her wrapping.
“I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Tommy blew a puff of smoke in her face.
“Yeah, okay. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dumpster-diving right now.” She got up, stepping into the light, making her way to the ring in the center of the room.
Vi was one of the more experienced fighters of The Last Drop, she’d been here since the club opened, since Tommy was just a scrawny no-name trying to clear his debts to keep his teeth inside his mouth. If anything, he owed her much more than he was paying her, since she helped bring a spotlight to the underground fighting scene. People gathered to fight her, others gathered to bet on her, to watch her go up against so many people and still win. Knowing she played such a significant role in the success of this club weighed on her, heavily. Most of all, she knew damn well how fat Tommy’s wallet had become and how it had long gotten to his head. Gone were the days of mutual respect, of seeing each other as equal. Now, Vi was the crown jewel of Tommy’s ensemble. He expected her to bow, to do as he pleased, to play jester for the club, just like the others. Would Vi ever do that? Hell no. Tommy could either play by her rules, or she’d find another place to fight.
Vi bowed beneath the ropes of the ring as a crowd started forming around it. People began watching intently, placing their bets and gathering to watch the fight begin. Her opponent, Gustave, in turn, did the same, taking his place on the other side of the small, grimy ring. His face still showed signs of the previous pummeling, purplish bruises had not finished their bloom on his cheekbone, his posture had a small hunch. With both of them ready, Tommy put out his cigarette against the wall, waltzing up to the ring, facing the crowd, to announce the start. He cleared his throat, an asserting yet enticing tone captivated the audience’s attention:
“Tonight, we have Gustave and Vi going up against each other. Everybody, place your bets now if you haven’t already! And with that, people, three, two, one, fight!” Tommy backed away with a bow, allowing an unobstructed view of the combat.
Usually, this was the part where the world went quiet for Vi. She’d land the first strong blow which would render her opponent totally demoralized. A flash of navy blue hair shone in the corner of her eye, the taste of coffee resurfacing on her tongue and-
“Bitch!”
Vi scrambled to pick herself up off the floor, Gustave cornering her in, looming silhouette above her. She’d been distracted? How? Never mind that, how did she not see her opponent as he was about to land a blow on her? Gustave threw another punch. This time, Vi managed to dodge, the sluggish hit leaving her adversary staggering. She side-stepped, swapping positions; now, he was the one fenced in from all sides. Left-right, up. Classic, like clockwork. How about we spruce things up a little? Vi threw in a kick, straight to Gustave’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. With him slouching, it became easier to strike sensitive points. He was out cold within two blows. Vi looked up to the sputtering spotlights above her, regaining her composure as the crowd roared, getting up from their seats and cheering. A breathless chuckle escaped her lips. As her heartbeat stopped thumping in her ears, she could feel something was in her mouth, something slimy, chunky. She spat next to Gustave’s face, having enough courtesy to not kick a man while he’s down. The remnants on the mat resembled a bloody molar, rather what was left of it. Oh well, these things happen when this is your job, she’s learned her lesson on not dodging punches. People surrounded the ring as Vi hopped over the rope, pumping her fist in the air, they patted her back, her shoulders, they were rowdy and drunk, very drunk. She elbowed her way to the backstage area when a large hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Good job, number six.” A cold beer bottle outstretched to her.
“Gee, thanks, Loris,” She grinned, gulping down the cold liquid, “but the name’s Vi” Just his way of teasing.
“Some of us never learned how to read, only how to count money,” Loris joked, clinking his bottle to hers.
“Now, if you’d like a round of shots, you’ll allow me to go find Tommy. Preferably before he rents a hooker with my prize money.” Vi half-joked back, angling her beer to point towards the curtain on her right.
Tommy stood against the doorframe, a wad of cash splayed on the bench next to him, counting the money in his hand faster than Vi could punch.
“Woah, all this for me? I must’ve set a new record with that knockout.” She said.
“Maybe in your wet dreams, Vi.” Tommy said distastefully, “Thirty, forty, fifty. Two hundred and fifty, you can choke on it.” He handed her the cash, not in the mood for humour.
“I’ll drink to that, Tommy.” Vi raised her bottle in thanks, taking a swig and turning around to walk out.
“And one more thing,” The man interrupted just as she put her hand on the curtain. “If you keep beating the shit out of Gustave, he might leave” he warned.
“I could not give the tiniest fuck,” Vi burped “ ‘s not my fault he can’t take a punch. Find me a proper opponent.” And with that, she left, rejoining the celebratory noise of The Last Drop.
~~
Back home, she struggled to unlock the door to her apartment, not being able to get the key into the keyhole. She sighed, cursing under her breath as she finally managed to get inside. Fishing the cash out of her bag, she shoved it in her nightstand drawer, grabbing the fistful of silver piercings to put back into her face and ears. The mirror’s reflection offered a tragic portrait of purple on her lower jaw, she’ll have to ice it in the morning… right. The morning, coffee, navy. Americano with a non-American accent. Bitter drink for a sweet cupcake. Well, she’ll fast forward to all that as soon as she finishes screwing in the last bit of her tongue piercing.
୭˚.✴︎ - work by fuchsiacoloredtears
author's note: second chapter done and dusted! I had quite some fun writing a fight scene for the first time, I'm sure there's more to improve though :)
I'll try my best to update consistently, maybe once every 2-3 weeks? I should probably make a masterlist too, but that's a problem for when I write more chapters.
!!! none of the images and dividers used are mine, only the writing! please do not repost my work as your own :,)
୭˚.✴︎ - Summary - Modern AU! Caitlyn Kiramman works with Maddie Nolen as police officers to find out the secrets that lurk inside The Last Drop. Maddie insists something shady is going on inside, having her own conspiracy theories meanwhile Cait believes the place is abandoned. One day, Caitlyn's world is rocked when a kind stranger pays for her coffee and although they part ways soon after, Cait's mind is shamelessly full of her for the days to come.
Underground fighter Vi throws punches to keep a roof over her head, keeping a low profile during the day to stay out of trouble. One morning, a selfless act mixed with some suave compliments lead her to meet someone new who she simply can't get off her mind. The more she tries to deny her feelings' depth, saying it's just casual, it only makes her desires worse.
୭˚.✴︎ - Read this work on AO3!
୭˚.✴︎ - Content warnings - Graphic depictions of violence, drug use, hurt no comfort, angst
Chapter 1: Well, I think I know now.
୭˚.✴︎ - Word count - 2k
Maddie pulled the handbrake of the cop car, swiftly exiting the driver’s seat and closing the door only to lean on the vehicle. Caitlyn followed suit, holding a fist up to her mouth and yawning profoundly.
“I hate patrolling around this part of the neighborhood, the smell is just… euch.” Maddie rambled on, gesticulating animatedly all the while Cait nodded along with a few “mhm”’s, too tired to pay attention to what her colleague was talking about. One thing she never understood is how Maddie was always so happy-go-lucky and energetic, especially on the late shifts like this one, at 11pm with three more hours to go that felt painstakingly long to Cait. The neon sign on the side of the club they were parked across let out a worrying noise, sparking and then turning off half-way. “The Last Drop” it read, circled in fluorescent green and written in magenta. Who the hell even comes here? The entire block was devoid of people more than half the time, you would say it was abandoned if not for the cars parked on every street and the numerous crime reports that came from here. Caitlyn gazed the entrance with half-lidded eyes, stretching her legs in a hopeless attempt to try to rid herself of the exhaustion that seeped so deep into her bones, painting a heavy shadow under her eyes and a slump in her spine.
“Why do they make us come here? I don't think this place has had any activity since before we were born…” Cait murmured to Maddie, sighing deeply.
“That’s exactly what the people who run this place want us to think! There’s totally a crime lord counting his stacks of cash and drugs down there, I’ll bet you five!” The blonde retorted enthusiastically, pointing at the aged doorframe, the neon with the streetlights projecting so much shine in her eyes that Cait might think they’re filled with glitter.
“I’ll take you up on that. I personally think the rats have made their mafia in there, playing poker every Tuesday night” Caitlyn joked, too tired to take things seriously.
Just as she said that, a backlit silhouette emerged out of the club, a lean figure, average height and feminine looking. Their strides were wide, hands shoved deep into their jacket pockets, the sound of metal clinking with every step they took. The person gazed towards the two’s car, recognizing the police sirens atop it and pulling their hood up, quickly walking the opposite direction.
“Look! That must be the crime lord!” Maddie exclaimed in a whisper, nudging Cait from her half-asleep state.
“Intriguing, seems like people still dare to step inside.” Cait remarked.
“We have to come back tomorrow! I’m sure we’ll find some leads, anything!” Maddie was buzzing with energy, typing up a storm in her notes app already.
“Alright, but, for now, let’s just call it a night. I don’t think anything else is going to happen considering one of the only people who actually come here has just left.” Cait started to step back to the passenger’s side of the car, unlocking the door and stretching back into the seat.
~~
Cait spat her toothpaste out into the sink, turning the tap off and walking away. She had been called into the station first thing in the morning to discuss Maddie’s reports from last night. Five whole hours of sleep, the most she's had this week, surviving off of coffee from the corner to-go coffee shop and twenty minute naps in the chair back at the station. Even though Cait has considered simply quitting and going to bed for 72 hours, the little bit of functional brain she has left has stopped her, reminding her of the oath she took and the reasons she chose to be a cop in the first place: to do good, to impose justice and keep people safe, to stop corruption, petty theft and assault, to keep the streets a place where people can walk past each other without worries. She thinks back to her childhood aspiration of doing good, keeping her family safe and making her mother proud, shooting for the stars in the hopes that if she succeeds she won’t have to bare her mother’s judgmental looks for not choosing to follow in her footsteps, instead, being met with a smile. Except that never happened; no matter how many perfect scores Cait brought home throughout her school years, no matter how many extracurricular contests she won, no matter how she excelled at the police academy or at anything she tried, none of it was enough for her mother. She had always been met with a solemn face, nothing more, nothing less. Cait stepped into her boots, lacing them up and stepping out of the door hurriedly, heading towards the coffee shop which has been keeping her functional every early morning after a late shift. Her strides were quickened, a self-imposed “pep” in her step to shake the sleep out of her body until she was able to get caffeine in her system.
The air on the street was crisp, the sidewalk littered with small puddles and humid spots, the road alongside full of cars with humming engines and people inside of them rushing to get to work early. Honestly, seven in the morning was obscenely early for a meeting! It’s too bad Maddie’s beginner enthusiasm and antics have been warmly welcomed by the county chief, otherwise Cait would've indulged in the luxury of more than 12 hours of sleep a week. Cait pushed open the door to the coffee shop, bless them for being open at such early hours, directly eyeing the menu for the drink with the most caffeine. Usually, at this time, there was no line; however, today, the “line” consisted of a single woman with cherry colored hair, some grey baggy sweatpants and a tight fitting black t-shirt. Cait ogled the inky swirls and ornate detailings on the tattoos flowing down the woman’s muscled arms while she stood in line behind her.
“Morning, Cait, what can I get you?” She was snapped out of her trance by the kind barista behind the counter who had seen her in every single state at every hour along the years, always offering her a polite smile and a coffee made with love.
“Good morning, I’ll have an americano with four shots of espresso, please.” she mumbled, struggling to fish her card out of her pocket only to find it empty. Cait grimaced, looking up to the woman sheepishly.
“Actually, nevermind, I’ll go without coffee today, thank you either way…”
The woman who previously stood in line in front of her, now adding sugar into her coffee, seemed to notice Caitlyn’s misfortune, walking over to the cash register and tapping her card to the payment terminal for her.
“I got you, looks like you need it today.” She smiled toward the barista and Cait, patting her shoulder and walking back to the drinks station.
“Oh- you didn’t have to- thank you so much.” Caitlyn smiled gratefully to the woman, a little dazed from the speed of the interaction so early in the day.
After grabbing her drink and wishing the barista a good day, Caitlyn headed towards the exit, wanting to get to the station on time. She saw the woman who paid for her drink also make her way to the door, a few steps ahead of Cait, grabbing the handle and pivoting to hold the door open for Caitlyn.
“After you, beautiful.” She said to her with a wink.
“Thank you,” Cait started, bashfully “and thank you for the drink too. I’ll pay you back for it if you’d like-” She rambled, flustered at the woman’s compliment.
“C’mon, don’t worry about it, cupcake. It’s my treat, okay?” The woman replied, offering a kind smile.
The two fell into step without Caitlyn realizing, both of them heading the same direction which made her wonder, what line of work could she possibly be in which required being up as early as her? Scratch that- she doesn’t even know her name!
“I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” Caitlyn inquired, curiously. She was eager to find out more about her because, Cait couldn't lie, she piqued her interest with her muscled physique, arms covered in tattoos, numerous piercings lining her ears, confident step and shameless flirting. Caitlyn wouldn't mind seeing her around more often.
“My name’s Vi, but you can call me later, I’ll make sure to pick up.” Cheesy, but smooth. Still, very cheesy.
Caitlyn chuckled at that, Vi was bold, she liked it, a breath of fresh air compared to the other people in her life.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Caitlyn said as the two approached an intersection in the sidewalk. “I have to go left to get to work, what about you?”
“I gotta go straight ahead. Well, it’s been nice, hope I’ll see you around, cupcake” Vi kept her gaze on Cait for as long as she could, until she had to look forward to cross the road.
“Have a nice day, Vi! Thank you for the coffee, again!” Cait offered her a small wave and a smile, continuing her commute to work.
~~
“So, the best thing we could do is get a warrant to search the place! We could bring a dog or two, they’ll surely help us find something!”
Caitlyn sipped on her americano as she watched Maddie pace around the meeting room, spewing her wild ideas to her and the rest of the staff, about a dozen people, called in to this “urgently important meeting regarding a possible drug trafficking ring in a nearby neighborhood”. Half of them were asleep with their eyes open, the others were only half asleep. The only exceptions were the chief of police, who was listening to Maddie intently, nodding along to every idea, and Caitlyn. Caitlyn who was absolutely clocked out mentally, her mind clouded with visions of silver barbells adorning someone’s ear cuff, whorls and twists of ink going down the back of someone’s forearms, someone’s battered up knuckles and suave compliments, the americano in her hand paid for by someone’s random act of kindness. That someone was Vi, who Cait was so caught up in. She wondered: did Vi stand for Victoria? or maybe Vivienne? She was dying to know more, to say the least.
“Ahem, Caitlyn? All those in favor?” Maddie cleared her throat and waved a hand in front of her face, bringing her back to reality, causing Cait to choke on the small sip of coffee she was having.
“Apologies,” she looked around the room to see everyone around her holding a hand up in favor of the vote Maddie had just proposed. “I agree.” Caitlyn raised her hand as well, nodding and pretending she had been paying attention all along.
“Great! So, I’ll take Caitlyn and Steb to surveil the place tonight until we find some leads. We can take turns throughout the week to ensure everyone is fully involved in this investigation.” She clapped her hands once, snapping the others out of their dozing. “Meeting is dismissed, everybody!”
Oh, well isn't that just great? More nights in front of The Last Drop watching the paint peel off the walls and wasting precious hours that could be spent sleeping. But then, it clicked for Caitlyn.
“Maddie, a word?” She bolted up from her seat, walking towards the freckled blonde.
“Yes, Caitlyn, what is it?” Maddie cocked her head.
“What if, every morning, we held a meeting, just like this one, to discuss anything suspicious going on at the last drop instead of putting the reports on paper, nobody bothers reading those papers anyway.” Cait shot the idea to Maddie and watched her eyes light up with excitement, painting the biggest smile on her face.
“Caitlyn… that is GENIUS!” She exclaimed, almost squealing in excitement. “That is exactly what we’re gonna do!” Maddie jogged off somewhere else in the building like she was on batteries.
Caitlyn smiled, swirling the last of her americano and downing it in one sip. More nights at The Last Drop meant more mornings with a chance of Vi. She wasn't willing to miss out on seeing her, that's for sure.
୭˚.✴︎ - work by fuchsiacoloredtears
author's note: hello everyone! This is my first time posting my fanfiction on Tumblr, so please go easy on me. I admit, I am not even close to being a professional writer, English is my third language, so constructive criticism and suggestions are gladly welcomed!
I sit at the kitchen table, staring blankly into my bowl of cereal, Kellogg’s Frosties, waiting for the nausea to go away. Why does this always happen at the worst of times? Not during late nights, which I can afford to lose, putting headphones on my head and allowing the music to take me, but in the most unexpected moments. Six in the morning, I’m jogging through the forest, steady, calculated breaths, when suddenly I see a flower whose petals are the same shade of auburn as your lips. I trip, the air knocked fully out of my lungs, falling into the dirt. Turning back to go home, I struggle to get myself out of the daze you put me in.
Quarter past three in the afternoon, in the bus, on my way home, I’m holding on to the yellow railing. A guy walks in with the same sandy blonde hair, same length as you and now I’m reeling in my head, trying not to lose my footing. The bus driver brakes suddenly, the whiplash knocking the sense back into me.
Oh, so, so wrong, to think of you like this when you’re the only one who I can’t afford to lose. The only person who fully understands everything, the only one who I can call not only my friend, but my equal. How you’ve filled in every blank both in my life and in my mind, ever so poetically, with your smile and your eyes and the dirt under your nails, the scrapes on your kart’s number, those scruffy red shoes. It makes me sick, down to the depths of my stomach, all the way up to my tongue, paralysing me, my words, my appetite.
I hate how you’re always on my mind. I hate how close you get every single time you’re given the chance, yet you never do anything about it. I hate how when I can feel your breath on my skin, time slows until a split second feels like an hour and then, like the snap of a finger, ten minutes fly by like a hot lap, and nothing happens. I hate how we teeter on the edge of something like two limbo dancers, it makes me want to grab the wooden bar and hit you over the head with it. Most of all, I hate that I have to hide it. I’ve grown so tired and frustrated, how is it fair? Every single day you make me restless by doing absolutely nothing, it drives me insane. I hate how I just have to sit there and nod along to your rambling when all I want to do is close your open mouth with my lips. I hate how I can’t know for sure what’s in your head, writhing in bed at night trying to figure out if you’re just being polite or you’re too scared to make a move. I hate how I can’t bring myself to hate you for all of this, because I know damn well it’s my fault since it’s only in my head.
I hate it.
I hate how deeply I care for you.
I hate how I always have to ruin something precious by falling in love.
brocedes aside, with all the criticism of lewis from the media i really appreciate that nico prefaces with „lewis is the greatest of all time“ every single time he talks about him
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
2087
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
