#angst incoming ig

[mellarkably]

any idea as to what this is about 😮 seems to be from 401 as written at the top. seems like one of the fallouts the writers were talking about is definitely ben and devi but that isn't too shocking

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

rip to my whumptober schedule

[starvine]

☾ ⋆* kiss it better

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader

genre: fluff, angst

synopsis: all you wanted to do was serve your people. however, when you get injured, your mission is cut short. neteyam insists upon patching you up and decides to explain his concerns for your well-being and future together.

warnings: battle stuff, guns, blood, battle injuries, medical jargon, stitches, minor swearing (?), allusions to mating/sex ig, aged-up neteyam

word count: 7.9k

notes: IT’S HERE! i’m very excited to have started writing again, and although i’m very casual about when i write, i hope to be somewhat consistent lol. enjoy this for now, i have more planned for the future! i hope you all enjoy, pls reblog/comment/etc if you feel so inclined <33

The air was tense today, thick with disciplined focus as you keep your ears alert for any incoming airships. Reeking of smoke and burning metal, a scent that is foreign and unpleasant to your nose, you remain aware of everything and anything. Gray clouds billowing and a pungent smell that cling to the back of your throat like a hand with a vice grip—nothing was natural. 

Tilting your forehead forward, you hope your visor, decorated with teeth and interwoven pieces, will shield your eyes from the wind. You hold your bow tightly, the wood smooth against your fingers as you use your other hand to guide your ikran swiftly through the air. 

“Calm, calm,” you soothe her, tapping your fingers along her strong neck. 

You’re anxious today. Not because of the imminent arrival of the Sky People, their ships ready to fire metal bullets at you at any second; you’ve dealt with that many times before. No, the reason you’re nervous is because of Neteyam. 

Today is Neteyam’s first day participating in the raid—well, his first raid on the ground with his father’s permission—rather than being a part of the aerial surveillance team. You tried to insist that you should accompany him, but, due to his wishes, you remained in the air beside his mother. 

 “Do you see anything yet?” Neytiri’s voice asks over the intercom. 

Bringing your fingers to your throat to press the responding button, you reply, “Nothing yet.” 

“I’m going to fly down to help gather some of the gear. You stay here,” she orders, raising her bow to signal that she and her ikran were descending. 

“Let us know if you spot any bogeys. We’ve got some heavy-duty gear and need as much time as possible,” Jake informs you over the intercom. 

“Roger that, sir,” you say, steering your ikran closer to where the enemy would most likely be approaching. 

Ears twitching back and forth, you attempt to pick up the whir of an aircraft amongst the orders commanded, the creaks and minor explosions occurring from the Meg-Lev train your people have intercepted, and the wind blowing past you. You hope that maybe you could track a scent, sniffing the air a couple of times to no avail. It’s all smoke and metal. The skies were calm, except for your ikran’s screeching, however, they couldn’t be for long. There was no way those demons would allow your people to escape that easily. 

“Hey,” Neteyam breathes over the intercom, a slight huff of your name. You could hear the smile on his face. “How’re things looking up there?” 

“What happened to using my code name?” you question, peering over your ikran in an attempt to find him along the ground. “I’ll tell you if I see anything. I know how to do my job, you know.” 

“Just double checking,” 

You scoff, guiding your ikran to the right. “Maybe you should focus on gathering all of the gear instead,” 

“Oh, really? Maybe you should-”

Suddenly, your ears flex forward, focused on the faint whirring of something mechanical and man-made; something that was not naturally occurring within your world. 

“Airships spotted! Everyone, move!” you shout over the intercom. You yelp out into the open air, pumping your bow in tandem with the three shouts you release to alert your fellow brothers and sisters in battle. 

Just as people begin clambering for their ikrans and direhorses, the two Scorpions start firing. The relentless pop of military guns fills your ears, causing your tail to swish frantically and your ears to perk forward. 

Using a high pitch, you signal for your ikran to dive, swooping up and under the two fighter pilots. 

“Do not engage! I repeat, do not engage! I want minimal casualties today,” Jake commands over the intercom, the background full of shouts and grunts. 

“Jake, I’ve got to take out these two airships. They’re already taking down ikrans,” you spoke, peering up at the airships as you stealthily soar below. 

Just then, Neteyam responds. 

“No! Listen to my father, do not engage. I can lead the people to safety,” 

“There won’t be any people to lead if I don’t take these airships down.” 

Neteyam groans your name in warning, the sound of shouts heard from all around. “Would you listen for once?” 

Jake barks your name, frustrated and frantic. “Get out of there! Get back to the High Camp!” he orders. You begin mapping out the plan of your attack. “That is a direct order!”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you respond, ignoring all that comes after. 

Your ikran shoots straight up into the air, coming close to the tail-end of the Scorpion gunship. You arch over the top of the gunship, upside down and looping over to the front side. The sun high in the sky and its beams creating a glare on the glass makes it difficult for you to spot the pilot. Upon finding his location, you draw the string of your bow taught, ready to fire. 

“Incoming! Enemy on-”

You shriek upon release. The arrow flies straight through the glass, nailing your target right in the chest. 

The gunship begins to tilt forward, preparing for its decline. As a hunter and warrior, it was your duty to pay respects to the creatures you killed in order to sustain the way of life. Kneeling over them, declaring your thanks, and wishing for their safe return to rest amongst the Great Mother was a sacred practice. However, as the gunship crashed and blew up in flames, hot and angry, you felt no thanks or remorse. They did not deserve to rest peacefully, and they didn’t even deserve to die on the Great Mother’s sacred soil. Their spirits deserved to walk alone, isolated and cold from the warm glow of the afterlife. 

“You skxawng! What the hell are you doing?” Neteyam screams. 

Looking around, you see the green back of his ikran, its rider perched on top with no visible concerns except for the fury etched on his face. 

“I got this! It’s just one more,” you insist, positioning an arrow on your bow, eyeing the last gunship. 

“May the Great Mother help you when I knock-” and with that, he’s easily ignored. 

The wind whips past you, high and soft, almost like a whisper from Eywa that she too felt the tensions of battle. You would do anything to soothe her pain. She could not endure the suffering of this war much longer. 

Tightening your grip on your ikran, her blues providing a stark contrast to the grayness of the military equipment, you attack from the rear yet again. Guns firing, you duck, placing yourself as flat as you can get against her back. However, once you approach the opening of the ship, where all of the massive guns were placed, you sit up, firing quickly. 

The scream and weak grunt you heard confirms that it was a successful hit. Loading your bow with another arrow, you soar underneath the aircraft, looping around until you have the high ground. Securing your aim, your fingers release the string until the arrow flies straight into one of the Scorpion's propellers. A small explosion soon turned into a large one, the ship dipping to its left and falling from its dominant space in the sky to the dirt. 

However, so were you.

You must’ve underestimated how close you were to the ship, your eagerness to protect your people and the Great Mother clouded your judgment. 

The sound and burst of light, as well as the force, must’ve spooked your companion as she, too, seemed to have lost her place in the sky. She tumbles towards the ground, shrieks and roars released into the open air. Jaw clenched, you tried to convince her to gain control to no avail. 

“Come on!” you shout, knuckles turning a pale blue with the tight grip you had. 

As you neared the ground, panic began to set in. Your ears lay flat against your head in an attempt to not become overwhelmed by the wind, you tried to think quickly. 

You could stay with your ikran, but you would both get injured; you could also disconnect from her and leap from the group, in hopes of only injuring yourself. 

Deciding on the latter, you had one plea for the Great Mother: 

“Please don’t let Neteyam kill me.” 

Disconnecting your kuru, you leap the rest of the way to the ground, the shock of the force of your fall causing you to fall instead of landing perfectly on your feet. The ship crashes a couple of yards in front of you, the force of the blast propelling you forward. 

Rolling and skidding along the dirt, pieces of gravel and discarded glass and metal tear at your skin. Red begins to bubble up along the surface, the violent opposite of your blue skin. 

Tumbling down a hill, you lose your grip on your bow, the wood being left behind in your trail. The burning sensation of your flesh being scraped away keeps you alert, blindly clutching at anything to break your fall. 

Eventually, you slow to a stop, landing on your stomach with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and coughing up the soil, you take a minute to catch your breath. With a slight raise of your head, you look at the ship as the flames crackle and cause a film of sweat to break out on your skin. That hunk of metal was truly ugly against the backdrop of the forest. 

You begin to slowly sit up, a sharp pain coming from your side. A cut, not deep enough to need stitches, slowly oozes blood down your left rib, crimson staining the skin. It looks swollen, screaming to be disinfected immediately. Reaching behind you to check for any more severe wounds, you arch away from your nimble fingers just upon a light graze. The heat from the explosion must’ve irritated the skin, causing soreness and slight bubbling in some places. 

Minor scrapes along your knees and elbows from what you could see and feel, makes you thank Eywa for her protection and the benign wounds. Stumbling onto your feet, you catch sight of something unnatural. 

A small piece of metal protrudes from the side of your thigh, embedded into the flesh. Staring at the shrapnel, you’re reminded that your world doesn’t just belong to you anymore. Even if the Sky People were to disappear and return back to their planet, the scientists would remain here. Their clunky gear and massive structures would continue to reside amongst the nature of Pandora. 

Something about that notion makes your heart sink. 

You lightly touch the silvery metal, trying to gauge how deep the foreign object must be. It felt stiff and unwilling to relent to your touch, confirming that it was not something you could brush off. Taking a step forward, a broad, aching pain festers throughout your leg. It hurt less if you put less pressure on the limb, however, that would be hard to do on your journey back to the High Camp. 

Picking up your bow from the ground, arrows broken and scattered around, you slowly mount your ikran, muttering expletives to yourself at the pain that dwelled throughout your entire body. 

Neteyam was surely going to kill you. 

Upon your arrival, after an arduous flight back home, you slowly slid off your companion onto the uneven rock. Blood oozed out from around the metal, the object having dug deeper into the surface the more you moved. With one hand clutching your rib and another trying to steady the object, you hoped to stumble into a healing area before you were noticed by a Sully. 

Turns out, you’re not as stealthy as you thought. 

“She’s back! She’s back!” a high-pitched cheer sounded, a small girl bouncing towards you. Tuk’s big grin slowly faded into a look of concern and worry as she sized up your injuries. “Mom! Kiri! She’s hurt!” 

The younger girl prances over to you, lifting your arms and examining your body from front to back. You feel the small girl brush against your tail, which was agitatedly flicking back and forth. 

With a sigh of your name, you see Tuk’s mother and elder sister approach you, war paint still decorating Neytiri’s face in vibrant greens and yellows. She gasps upon spotting the dirt, blood, and bruising that has blossomed across your skin, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as her eyes fill with worry. 

“We must get her to grandmother,” Kiri announces to her mother, clutching your upper arm as softly as she could without hurting you. 

“There’s no need. I can do it myself,” you try to assure her, taking a fumbling limp forward. 

“There is a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.” 

You glance down, almost as if you hadn’t noticed it at all before. It was a futile attempt, especially as you used your fingers to brace the object, preventing it from moving too much. “There is?” 

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak exclaims, waltzing up beside you and trying his best to not laugh at your given failure. “Looks like someone got their ass handed to them by some Sky People,” 

Hissing at him, you weakly push at his chest to show him that you weren’t interested in his jokes right now. 

“Lo’ak!” his mother scolds, hitting him upside the head. 

“What?! What I’d do?!” 

Then, the two people you desperately wanted to avoid came into view: Neteyam and his father. Jake had a stern, militant look on his face—a facade that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Neteyam’s face was set into a deep frown, a look that was a delicate cross between his mother’s and father’s disappointed faces. 

“Well, would you look at the time? Looks like I better start tending to-” you attempt to walk away, only to be kept in place by Neytiri’s firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not like you’d be able to escape them as quickly or swiftly as you would typically be able to. You–apparently–had a piece of metal sticking out of your leg. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jake scolds still dressed head to toe in his fusion of Omaticaya and Sky military gear. “Disobeying direct orders? That isn’t something I expected from you.” 

Casting your eyes downwards, you hope your flat ears and limp tail would get you out of this scolding quicker than it would’ve if he was scolding Neteyam or Lo’ak. Typically, avoiding his gaze would show that you felt regret—which, in this case, you didn’t really—and he’d let you move on. However, it’s hard to keep your eyes fixed on the ground when someone gets into your line of view. 

Neteyam crouches down, face coming into view as if he’s trying to catch your fake performance. Instead, he places two hands, worn and calloused from all of the years of fighting and defending his people, onto your cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he can view you from his natural height, allowing him to view each scrape and bruise in proper lighting. His lips twitch into a grimace, thumbs grazing over a small cut that must be on your cheek because, although there’s a faint sting, there’s no leaking blood. 

Now, everyone knew about you and Neteyam. It’s not like it was kept a secret. Wherever you went, he followed; whatever he was doing, you were right there beside him. In the years to come, you would become his mate and that was an unspoken decision between you and him. Well, there was also an unspoken rule between Neteyam and the rest of the boys his age to not even glance at you, or else he’d have their tails. However, no matter how much people smiled softly whenever you’d exchange fond glances or spare looks when you two ran off alone, it wasn’t like you publicly displayed much physical affection. Nonetheless in front of his parents. 

He unloops your visor from behind your ears, handing it to his brother without his gaze leaving your face. As soon as his hands leave you, they return just as quickly. His fingers smooth over your face, confirming that you’re breathing and here in front of him—something he’s very grateful for. Your stupidity—not so much. 

“You’re such a skxawng,” he chides, tilting your face towards his. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s not like I’m the one who took down—not one—but two whole- ow!” you yelp, stumbling forward towards the young man. 

Tuk looks at you guiltily, one finger outstretched as if she was prodding at something. 

Kiri steps forward, pushing Tuktirey out of the way in order to re-examine your back. 

“We should take her to grandmother,” she insists, “now.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to continue with your act of not being nearly as injured as you appear, but the longer you stand, the more it becomes not true. As the adrenaline wears off, the soreness and incessant throbbing grow throughout your muscles and bones. Your rib and leg are still oozing blood, warm and tacky against your skin. Neteyam loops an arm around you, careful to avoid the blisters and welts that decorate various places on your back. 

His free hand reaches for the hand that hangs limply over his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and giving them a light squeeze. “It’ll all be okay,” 

“Yeah, I know. Just ‘cause I’m walking a bit funny doesn’t mean I’m dying,” 

You could say that then, but you sure as hell can’t say that now. 

If there was one thing about Mo’at, it was that she couldn’t care less if her remedies stung like a bitch as long as they cured you thoroughly. So now, as she smears a paste along your back—the sensation as bitter and frigid as the Northernmost part of any mountain—that bites at your skin, you kind of wish you were dead. Or at least knocked out. 

This isn’t even the worst of it. 

Once the stinging fades more into a relaxing cool, Mo’at instructs you to lean backward so she can assess your torso. The older woman crouches next to you, hands hovering over the wound as if Eywa was sending her a direct message on the best way to heal you. Neteyam sits on the other side of you, clutching your hand with a grip that seems more like it’s to reassure him than you, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face. 

Neytiri stays close to her mother, observing or advising what she believes to be the next course of action—just as a tsakarem should do. Kiri stays by your feet, grinding and mashing up various plants and syrups that could be used to aid with disinfecting your wounds. Lo’ak and his father stay near the door, ready to leave if someone else should need assistance with anything to do with the war effort. However, as everyone stays well within their place, performing their necessary task, Tuk couldn’t seem to sit still. 

“Is she going to need stitches?” Tuk asks, peering over her eldest brother. 

Neteyam removes his hand from your hair, slightly readjusting the younger’s weight so she doesn’t put too much pressure on him, in turn, putting pressure on you. 

The Tsahìk doesn’t look up from your wound, eyes brightening as if Eywa had finally delivered her guidance to the woman. “No, she will just need to rest. I would advise very minimal movement for at least seven days,” the woman says, being handed a bowl of yellowish sap. 

“Seven days? But I need to be out there, it’s my duty to fight,” you plead, growing restless and inching upwards. 

Neteyam pushes you back down, delicate but firm fingers pressing against your sternum. “Down,” he murmurs. 

“It is not my fault you did not listen to orders,” the older woman retorts, using a brush-like leaf to observe the consistency of the paste before lowering it toward your injury. 

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that I just happened to save- oh, Great Mother! Holy sh-” you yelp upon Mo’at contact. 

Neteyam presses a hand over your mouth, sending you a stern glare. “Not in front of the Tsahìk,” he hushes, palm warm against your lips. 

You groan against his hand, face twisting and back arching in pain. Unlike the gel thinly spread across your back, there was no relief from this paste. Mo’at continued to slather it all across your skin, insisting that the more you move, the more it will hurt. You squeeze Neteyam’s hand, feeling the bones shift with how strong your grip is. If you’re hurting him, you can’t tell. The look of pain on his face seems to be linked to his feelings about your injuries, your pain. Always the doting lover. 

Once Mo’at wraps the injury, using both Na’vi and human medical wraps, she places a palm over the injury, thanking the Great Mother. Then, she looks at your leg. 

Your leg was held down by Kiri throughout the excursion, as she didn’t want the shrapnel to lodge itself deeper into the skin and muscle. At the base of your leg, a piece of twine is firmly wrapped around the skin to lightly restrict blood flow. The skin was not pinched, nor did you lose feeling in your leg as you would’ve if the twine was used as a makeshift tourniquet, however, your thigh still resisted against the band. 

You haven’t cried yet, however, just with her eyes boring into your leg you feel as if you’re about to sob. 

“Please don’t take it out. I don’t- I don’t want to have to do this anymore,” you begin to blubber, looking at Neteyam as you try to sit up. 

“Shh, shh,” he placates, stroking your cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

“I’ve been hurting this whole time,” you groan, “what the hell have you been-”

Then, the last two people you want to see walk into the room: Norm and Max. 

“I grabbed them as soon as I heard,” says Spider, following close behind. 

“No. No, no, no. Get the hell away from me,” you say, instantly shooting up and trying your best to scoot away, even as Kiri still holds down your leg. 

Neteyam says your name so sweetly, so full of fondness that a chill is sent up your spine—a chill that isn’t caused by the cooling medicine or a shock of pain. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t want him here,” you spit, speaking Na’vi to the boy sitting beside you. 

“We have no choice,” he reasons, his voice dropping an octave. “They will be much quicker with their equipment than with ours. I promise that my grandmother will heal and treat you, but we need their help to make sure that there’s no extra damage that is beyond what the eye can see.” 

You shake your head, refusing to listen to him and averting your gaze. 

His lithe fingers reach for your chin, turning you back towards him. There he goes again; always making you feel like the blushing fool, especially in front of his family. 

“I will not let them hurt you.” 

What a fucking liar. 

Taking a team of three women plus Norm to hold your leg down, Max begins to lower his tweezers toward the piece of metal. With the first tug, you begin screaming. The pressure and the resistance between Max’s tweezers and the artificial shard against your tender skin and muscle caused your free leg to kick, hands tightening at your sides and clinging onto Neteyam. The fact that your whole body was tense, each muscle spasming, probably didn’t help what was already a difficult procedure. 

“Damn, she’s strong,” Norm comments, adding more pressure in an attempt to hold your leg down. “Spider, help us out.” 

You continue to sob, reaching for Neteyam to claw at his shoulder. If you’re hurting him or breaking skin, he doesn’t tell you. Instead, he cradles you as you cry against his leg. Ripping your hand from his, you squeeze his leg, nose pressed against his thigh to hide your face. There’s no guarantee that half of the clan hasn’t heard you by now, nor that a few people have poked their heads in to see who the hell was screaming so damn loud. You were well known. There’s no way anybody wouldn’t recognize that it was you who was being surgically tortured. However, if you could save some dignity by hiding yourself against Neteyam, you would do just that. 

“I’m never letting them near my body again,” you weep, gripping tight to the blue skin beneath you. 

Neteyam rakes his fingers through your hair, hands petting any inch of skin that has brought you comfort over the years. He knows you like the back of his hands. Playing with your hair puts you to sleep, rubbing his thumb across your cheek makes you keen, following the slope of your nose makes you smile, and touching your ear makes you quiet. Using this knowledge, Neteyam’s hands roam to any expanse of skin that he can reach. He must look mad, with busy fingers and frantic eyes, but he can’t help himself. His chest hurts when he sees you like this, and if he needs to kill someone to make you feel better, he’d gladly do that. 

“It’s almost out. We’re almost done,” he assures you in a soft tone, getting close to your ear. 

Your ears, which have been laying flat and folding over periodically finally perk up and away from your skull—a sense of relief. It’s quick-lived before they fall back against your hair, but he sees it as a small win. 

“Can you dress it for me?” you plea, voice breaking painfully. 

Who is he to deny you? 

“All done!” Max cheers, placing the flat piece of shrapnel into an emesis basin.

The clang of the metal against metal causes you to abruptly sit up. Neteyam’s hand is on your shoulder, but for the first time, it’s not to push you back down. He lets you take your time viewing the sizable gash in your leg, an injury that without a doubt needs extra aid. You whimper at the sight, not necessarily at the pain, but because you knew what this means: you would be under strict supervision at the battle scene. You couldn’t be trusted to be alone, especially as you were a great friend of the Sully’s and Neteyam’s prospective mate. 

Falling back into Neteyam, the cries you let out are softer but still cause your body to shake. Neteyam rubs his cheek against yours when you hide your face in his neck, tears causing the blue skin to become slick and tacky. He readjusts your top which has moved around during all of your painful squirming, protecting your modesty. The beads land softly against your shoulder, arms holding you snuggly against him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving him a view of the ear that is decorated with various pieces of Omaticaya jewelry. An orange bead, delicately dangling from your lobe, was a gift from him. 

“It makes me feel wiser during battle,” you told him once before sending an arrow straight through the eye of a fish that swam around in the pond. 

He touches it lightly, reminding you that everything is alright. 

“No! She’s going to need stitches!” Tuk whimpers, a frown deeply set on her face. Even through your crying, Neteyam catches the faintest hint of a smile. 

Mo’at begins to drip water over the wound, clearing away any blood that may have leaked down your leg despite the twine restricting your blood flow. 

It’s silent besides Max, Norm, and Jake’s mumbling outside of the tent as Mo’at preps a needle and thread. Kiri, Neytiri, and Spider have since released your leg, observing you and the Tsahìk. Just as Mo’at blesses the needle and thread, Neteyam speaks up. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Mo’at looks at her grandson, her gaze strong but understanding. The white bone needle stays pinched between her two fingers, amber eyes unwavering. 

“Neteyam, let your grandmother-“ 

“I said I’ll do it.” he hushes, lip curling in order to hide a scowl. 

His mother looks at her own, a non-verbal communication occurring between their stares. Eventually, Neytiri acquiesces, standing up and taking a step away from you. 

Mo’at hands him the needle, placing a worn but beautiful hand on your leg. 

“Return here tomorrow so I can check on the wound,” she orders. You nod, eyes still teary before the older woman stands with her daughter, ready to move on to the other warriors who need their assistance. 

Once his mother and grandmother leave, Neteyam grows restless. 

“Everyone out, please.” 

Kiri scoffs at him, still seated by your feet. “You can‘t be serious,” 

“Out! Get out!” he hisses, fangs bared at his sister and the human boy beside her. “You have done nothing!” 

“I wouldn’t call holding down her leg for nothing. I’ll have bruises for the next week,” Spider dismisses, standing up with Lo’ak, who is already headed towards the exit. 

“Out!” he shouts one final time, his siblings leaving as his tail flicks back and forth with irritation. 

It isn’t until they’re gone, that Neteyam leaves your right side, scrambling and pouncing over you in order to come in contact with your left leg. 

The tent is silent as he begins his work. The process doesn’t hurt much, a gentle prick or pinch here and there; you’re not sure whether it’s because your nerves are shot and can’t detect pain anymore or because Neteyam is good at his work. It could be both. Before you know it, the wound is closed and a row of sutures stares back at you in a familiar Na’vi sewing pattern. The skin is even, nothing too uncomfortable, and although there’s bruising, it appears to be that everything will be okay. 

You reach out to touch the stitches with a shaky hand, only to be slapped away. “Uh uh, don’t touch,” he tuts, eyes focused and mouth slightly ajar in concentration. 

He grabs under your knee, bending it at the joint in order to prop it up so he can place a bandage over the sutures. 

“To protect them,” he informs you, wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

He’s very quiet throughout, a reaction you were not expecting. Neteyam has always been logical, methodical; he never steps out of line or does something rash unless it’s for the means of protecting those he loves. Always quick to action, he’s usually the first to help and the first to reprimand someone (usually Lo’ak) for their stupidity. That would be the typical reaction. However, now he looked almost forlorn. 

Once he’s done, he fully stands for the first time since you entered the tent. He begins to rummage through his grandmother’s remedies that sit in wooden jars and crystal vials, concoctions she’s mastered after years and years of being the Tsahìk. After selecting a small wooden bowl filled with clear oil, he grabs another bowl of water and a rag and sits down in front of you. Dabbing the rag in the bowl of water, he lifts the dripping cloth toward your face. 

“What are you doing?” 

He looks at you, eyes narrowing briefly before they return to their normal, large position. 

“Your face is filthy.” 

He gently holds your chin, tilting it up towards him so he can begin wiping your face. His hold is steady but his eyes look nerved, almost as if he has too much on his mind to bear. His breathing matches yours, and he dodges your gaze although his entire being crowds your line of sight. There’s no way for him to avoid you, really. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he dips the rag and wrings out all of the water, approaching your face yet again. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies curtly, his ears twitching quickly before returning to their previous state—a telltale sign that he’s lying. 

“Oh, so you’re just going to pretend like I know nothing about you now?” you try to joke, smile falling when you notice how he doesn’t reciprocate your humor. “Talk to me,” you urge, grabbing his wrist so he can’t try to distract you or himself by caring for your wounds. 

He sighs, looking away before he slowly looks back at you. Holding your gaze, eyes squinting and lips pursing slightly. Neteyam looks at you like you’re supposed to understand him–and you do–but it’s as if he’s expecting you to know what’s bothering him. However, the problem is that you don’t. Once he comes to that realization, he sighs, still looking into your eyes. 

“I’m upset with you.” 

And there it is. Your tail swishes uneasily, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he can’t bring himself to quell his emotions for your sake. He almost lost you. 

“Why are you upset with me?” 

He shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed or too shy to explain his feelings. Being the eldest son and the next heir, Neteyam often felt as if he had to hide his own inhibitions or concerns in order to be a good son, a good brother, a good leader. When it was just the two of you, you would often have to do a little extra prying in order to get him to reveal what was truly occupying that pretty little head of his. Even once he admitted it, it was even harder to get him to elaborate. 

“Just drop it. You should be healing,” he dismisses, trying to distract himself by wiping your face again. 

Pushing his wrist away with your fingers, you take the cloth and throw it into the bowl of water. Holding his hands on your lap, his tail swishing timidly behind him, you make him look at you by following his gaze. “I can talk and heal. The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” 

“I wish they were,” he mutters, a braid swinging in front of his face. 

“Hey,” you tuck the strand behind his ear. He leans towards your touch, almost as if he craves it, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. “This isn’t how this works. You need to talk to me.” 

“You’ve already been in enough pain today. I don’t want to cause anymore,” 

“Quit the bullshit. I’m better now. I’ll feel worse if you don’t tell me.” 

“That’s not the way it works.” 

“Um, yes, it is.” 

“It’s not.” 

“How would you know? I can already feel my leg hurting ten times more now that you won’t communicate with me.” 

“You’re not in any more pain because of me,” he scoffs, trying to escape your grasp. 

“Ow, my leg! My leg!” you feign a whimper. He cracks a small smile, your cheeks spreading as smoothly as the war paint that still dons his face. 

Neteyam looks so beautiful when he smiles. It’s a special smile, reserved only for you; it drips of sticky honey, so sugary that sometimes you feel as if you could fall ill from its adoration. He’s soft as he looks at you, coy and all things delightful. The hands that once tried to flee your own, now reach for your wrists, petting the skin in a pattern that speaks a million languages at once. And yet, somehow, not one of those languages can truly resemble how much he loves you. He loves you a lot. 

“Please,” you whisper, “tell me what’s wrong?” 

He sighs, assenting to your pleas. With one final sweep over your face, he finally indulges you. 

“I’m not happy that you took down those ships.” 

“Well, duh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I know that, but I want to know why.” 

“You weren’t careful.” 

This causes a richer scoff to form at the back of your throat, a sound that makes his ears press against his braids. “I thought we agreed to take down the enemy at any and all costs?” 

“I know, and we did—we did make that agreement. I just,” he groans, trying to find the right words. Neteyam never had the right words when it came to expressing himself. “I was scared.” 

“Okay,” you reply softly, shuffling closer to him. “Why were you scared?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be scared?” he answers, tone mimicking the same quiet tone you used. “You’re mine—my girl, and- and they almost took what’s mine away from me.” 

“God, I just got so scared that something bad would happen to you. And when I saw you hurt, how badly you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it I just…” his eyes are frantic, searching all across the hut for something—anything—to provide him an answer. His hands start to tremor in your hold. “I felt helpless and so stupid. I should’ve been tougher on you, or—I don’t know—had Lo’ak or even Kiri stay with you so you didn’t have to be alone. And it’s not that I don’t think you’re incapable or anything—” he excuses, causing you to smile lightly, “—but I don’t trust them. I don‘t trust them with you.” 

Smile turning watery, you reach for his shoulder, soon deciding to hold his face instead. He leans into your palm yet again, seeking the warmth that can only emanate from your hands alone. It’s the only warmth that can rid him of any chill. 

Neteyam kisses your palm, soon rolling your hand over in his, placing his lips on each knuckle as if it provides him comfort. And it does. It provides him more comfort than he could care to admit. Placing your head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, you place a kiss on his collarbone, lowering your lips to place another on his pec, right above his heart. The young man draws in a deep breath, holding you close to him, savoring each second, each touch. Skin against skin; heart against heart. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologize, your soft lips grazing his blue skin. He loves the feeling. “I just wanted to protect our people.” 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your forehead, a light kiss placed there. “I’m sorry for yelling.” 

“It’s okay. You didn’t even yell,” you forgive, cheeks pillowing against his chest. When you lift yourself away from him, he tilts his head in confusion at your smirk. “Also, we both know Kiri would be awful on the battlefield.” 

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “True. She can’t even shoot an arrow in a straight line.” 

“Exactly! I don’t know what you were thinking when you said that. Lo’ak? Sure, whatever. But Kiri?” 

“I know, I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as if his quietness will preserve this moment between you. 

His eyes become velvet—smooth and warm—the longer he looks at you and it instantly makes you melt. His lips look saccharine, a buttery spread of a light smile decorating his face which is just the absolute cherry on top. If Eywa hadn’t taken you during battle, she sure as hell was going to take you now with how crazy Neteyam makes your heartbeat. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, his smile growing more and more with each expanse of skin he navigates. Dancing his fingertips over your jaw and across your cheekbones, he eventually cups your cheek and you just watch. If you breathe too hard, if you shift your weight, this moment could crumble. He’s looked at you like this many times before but it’s usually in the dark, under the bioluminescent blue and purple lights of the forest, where all you can see are the shadows of his face and the warmth of his tongue and the breeze of his breath. Now, you can see everything in pure, golden hues. The way his mouth relaxes, the way his eyes absorb all they can with each quick glance, the way the corner of his mouth tugs upwards unconsciously. You love it. 

“May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, thumb swiping along a stripe on your cheek. 

“Why do you ask now? You’ve done it many times before,” you wonder, eyes transfixed on the way his own mouth moves with each word he’s about to form. 

He chuckles, a sweet, melodic sound, “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down even when the sun is out.” 

This earns a loud laugh from you, a laugh that makes Neteyam’s heart squeeze and his lower stomach burn. He loves you. One day, he’ll say it. 

Once your giggles have fizzled into a content sigh, you bite your lip lightly before you release it and it returns to its normal place. Neteyam follows the movement. 

“I’m always down if it’s you.” 

“Yeah?” he smiles, breathy and lips plush.  

“Yeah.” 

With that, he seals the deal. His kiss is soft, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your mouth right before the initial contact. It makes you feel hot all over. He’s gentle—he always is at first—and he’s so, so kind. He pulls away briefly, returning not long after as if he needs to be connected to you or else he would suffer. In a way, he would. 

Neteyam is sweet. He still tastes like the fruit you shared before the raid and also a little bit like blood—whether it’s from him or you, you don’t care; you’ll devour it desperately just like you want him to devour you. He traces that stripe on your cheek again, his new best friend, and follows it down the nape of your neck. His other hand trails up from the small of your back to the divot in between your shoulder blades. He uses his hand to pull you closer, seeking any contact from you that he can get. 

Your hands are a barrier, shielding your chest from his, and in a way, it upsets you but also pleases you. Nobody knows what would happen if you could feel his chest pressed against yours at this moment—not even you know. Your hands glide across his chest, lighting scraping and molding against the fine muscle that hides under his smooth skin. When a lithe finger accidentally catches against a nipple, his mouth drops open pliantly, his tongue searching for yours. 

“‘S scared they took my girl away from me,” he murmurs against your lips, his own following after yours after each word. 

“Never,” you promise, kissing him firmly, one hand gripping his shoulder to ground yourself. All of this kissing was beginning to make you feel as if you could float away. “I’m yours. They could never take me or have me. You know that,” 

“Mhm,” he hums, voice lilting towards the end as he presses his mouth to yours. It makes your back arch forward, seeking more of his skin, his touch. 

His hands are growing desperate now. Neteyam knows he has to be gentle, avoiding the damaged skin on your back and remaining weary of the injuries on your rib and leg, but he so badly just wants to pull you close to him and never let go. He wants to hold you, to feel you, to be with you in every single way he can imagine so passionately. But he can’t. He will have to wait for another time. 

You, on the other hand, may roam freely. Your hands travel down his chest, exploring the taught skin of his stomach. It seems he subconsciously flexes underneath your touch, something that is rather enticing. Reaching the plusher skin of his lower stomach, although there still isn’t much give, you trace the muscle gingerly, bordering right above the hem of his loincloth. The delicate touch of your fingers causes him to lightly moan into your mouth, a sound you gladly drink down just to feel its warmth in your stomach. 

Neteyam pulls away suddenly, a loss you’re greatly upset about until he relocates his lips under your ear, traveling down your neck. He hums against the skin, tongue swiping against it as if he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can, as much as he’s allowed. 

“You can’t touch me like that,” he says, using a hand to bring both of yours back toward his chest. You cradle his head instead, tracing a finger along his ear. It twitches. 

“Why not?” you question, voice airy. Neteyam nearly preens at the sound, tail wild. “You seem to like it.” 

“I do like it,” he insists, “I love it, even.” 

“Then why can’t I touch you there?” 

He places a wet, fervent kiss against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan threatening to escape past your lips. 

“Because,” another kiss, “You are not promised to me yet.” 

“I just told you that I’m yours,” you reminded him. 

“Yes,” he nods, trailing his kisses back toward your jaw. “However, you’re still not mine.” 

Oh. 

“I could be yours. All you have to do is ask,” you say as if it’s not something he already knows. You hold his head in place, halting his journey upwards so you can whisper in his ear: “Ask me, Neteyam.” 

His tail swishes excitedly, something that makes you smile. Great Mother, you could eat him up. 

“No,” he responds, pulling away and facing you head-on. He has a lovesick smile on his face, a grin that nobody could wipe off as long as you’re around. “I want to do it right.” 

“Yeah?” you counter. “How would you do it?”

“Well,” he hums, kissing your lips. “First, I’d get all of your favorite foods. All of those fruits you like, season everything all nice,” he begins to slowly kiss your cheeks, “and get it all ready just for you to eat.” 

“What else?” 

“Then,” his kisses travel towards your ear, “Once you’re full and comfortable, we’ll go for a walk.” He bites your ear lobe and you press yourself against him. “We’ll go to our favorite spots: we’ll look at those flowers you like, go to the river, maybe swim a little. I like the way your hair looks while wet, you look so pretty,” he sighs. “You listening?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “Go on.” 

“Then I’d bring you to our sacred tree, just so Eywa can see us and I can see you under her light. I want to see you when I ask you. I want to see you if you smile or cry or decide that I’m not the one, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” he smiles, no longer kissing you but nudging your nose with his. 

“And if you say yes—Great Mother, I hope you say yes—I promise, I’ll treat you so well. I’ll hold you the way you ask to be held, kiss you in all of the places I already know you love to be kissed, and learn all of the new places I can’t reach yet too. I want to feel you, and see the way you react. I want you to feel me, too. I want you to see me, and I want to see you,” he whispers, voicing each wish. 

You nod, slowly and then desperately. “I want to see you, too,” you promise. He smiles that big, toothy smile. “Tell me when you’ll ask me? I can’t wait for much longer. I need you.” 

His eyelids grow heavy, skin heating underneath your palm. “I need you, too,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss you again. “It’ll be soon, just want you to heal for now.” 

“Yeah?” you smile. “Soon?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Soon.” 

ⓒ starvine 2023

[iheartuwu]

₊˚ ♡ random relationship hc’s ◞ leon s. kennedy

fem!reader, fluff, angst, established relationship, implied age gap for like one or two hc’s, wrote these in an id leon brainrot fueled spur lmfao so mostly for an older leon ig !? would love to expand on some of these in a fic, wc 0.6k ╮

gift giving is definitely one of his strongest love languages, however he’s not one for grand gestures or overtly romantic gifts. his gifts are practical, thoughtful, consistent reminders that he’s always thinking of you because he’s never been good with words. he prefers to not be present when you receive them and he’s SO deliberately discreet about it too. subtly replacing your skincare or fav products that are running out with brand new ones, delving into his mental notes of what you’re running low on when he’s at a shop. scheduling food or flower deliveries for when he’s away on a mission or work related tasks. any praise would probably make his skin crawl because he just can’t handle it

terms of endearment feel unnatural to him and rarely fall past his lips unless you seem to react positively to them. i don’t see him as someone who’s that experienced in committed long term relationships ( or relationships in general ) due to the nature of his work and lifestyle. he defaults to ‘babe’ until he learns which terms you prefer / dislike

leon would never accept your offers or attempts to pay for a thing ( i swear by this ). this doesn’t come from a place of arrogance or urge to fulfill some ‘traditionally’ masculine role. his disposable income is plentiful, and he’s happy to pay when the opportunity arises, he honestly doesn’t even think about it and merely hands over his credit card. receiving gifts can often be hard for him but he’ll never purposely display his discomfort or refuse

extremely dry texter and doesn’t really use his phone despite being tech savvy, all of his texts end with periods. rarely ever uses emojis ( his personal favs are 👍👎 and the occasional ❤️ ). typically one word responses. doesn’t understand half of the abbreviations you use. send him a keyboard smash and he’ll think you’re having a stroke. prefers to call you instead

always the driver ( he insists on it ). always has the seat warmer on for you. if you do drive he becomes a backseat driver which can be mildly frustrating. comments on your song choices when you play music in his car but would never tell you to stop no matter how grating it is on his ears and simply endures. sometimes opts for his motorcycle over his car solely because he gets to be held onto by you. would literally never let you even fathom the idea of driving his motorcycle

frequent date nights at borderline obnoxiously ritzy restaurants to compensate for his time spent away from you due to his job. also bc this man cannot cook. does not let you know in advance. he simply says “we have a reservation tonight” like an hour before which often results in you scrambling to get ready

he struggles with sharing his ( darker ) emotions, accompanied by a habit of opting to brush your concerns off. vulnerability is a foreign language to him. he’s scarily good at pretending he is fine, but you manage to see glimpses of his deteriorating wellbeing in his body language. the heavy sighs upon waking up, his slight recoil from your touch, his posture stiffening after you ask him what’s on his mind. this doesn’t come from a place of distrust in any way, he truly just doesn’t want to ‘burden’ you and convinces himself that his struggles aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. he also knows the source of his stress and trauma is for the most part confidential and he tells himself he’s doing it for your own safety and protection. when he does open up by his own volition, he keeps it brief, spares most of the details, his composure rarely falters and he’s itching to move on from the subject. you’ve never seen him cry :(

[yanfairiie]

TIME ENDS ALL ✦

kafka x fem! reader

cw: angst???, probably ooc kafka, character death, mentions of blood and murder, violence with guns ig, my first post btw TvT

you never expected such a thing to happen at all.

to be reunited with your old friend to now suddenly be admist a battlefield, stabbing and slashing away at enemies around you, blood creating a sea of crimson around your feet.

"how did you get in this situation?" some may ask.

ask and you shall receive.

. . . .

it all started when you and the astral express crew received news an infamous stellaron hunter has wreaked havoc on a hostile planet and while you would've avoided the journey, the mention of kafka's name snapped your eyes in himeko's direction.

"kafka? in this planet?" you suddenly spoke, interrupting the red-headed woman. everyone looked at you, surprised that you abruptly speak up about kafka and with such gentleness too! the mention of the other two stellaron hunters would make your voice intimidating.

"okay then, who's going?" you asked, and welt responded, "me, dan heng and stelle.. are you interested in coming along, y/n?" you nodded rapidly as you went to your room to get your sheathed weapon.

you returned no later and said, "im tagging along then." everyone looked shocked but they didn't object you going with the trio. himeko simply sighed, "if you're going, make sure to return in one piece, y/n. this is a hostile planet and you have to be careful, everywhere you go."

march sprung up from her seat and hugged you tightly, "make sure to take pictures! i won't be tagging along this time." she and himeko waved at you and the departing three as you lastly said, "sure, i promise."

and with that, welt stated, "let's get going now and put an end to the violence." you smiled as the four of you descended down onto the vast planet below.

once you were all gone, march's vibrant smile dimmed down to a frown. "y'know himeko. . is it just me or did y/n look a bit happy at the mention of kafka? like not with a smile but with a sparkle in her eyes. ."

himeko gazed down at the planet below and hummed, "you're not the only once, march. y/n did look rather entranced when we mentioned kafka. i think they used to be. . . close friends."

. . . .

you coughed at the smoke blurring your vision slightly as you stabbed through an enemy's neck. you almost feel like passing out at this point but you have to keep fighting or else you won't be able to stop her.

kafka. your old best friend. your crush. your frenemy.

you and the astral express crew were on the run towards catching kafka. news from the planet's higher ups reported her escaping from the guards, last being seen in a vast plain near active volcanoes.

you stood behind dan heng as kafka's elegant voice echoed, "hm? the astral express crew here in this blazing inferno planet? not a surprise, this is what elio told me on what would happen anyway."

"listen soldiers. get rid of those unworthy of my presence." suddenly as if on cue, a horde of soldiers came chasing after you all, making you take out your weapon.

"see if you can catch me now~" and with that she leaped off. dan heng gritted his teeth and shouted, "after her now!"

so many words could describe the chase and the battle that broke out. despite kafka manipulating the powerful soldiers, she took out her guns and started shooting bullets everywhere with that oh, so perfect smile of hers.

welt's void abilities, dan heng's true power and stelle's preservation powers almost were proved weak if it hadn't been for you slashing the incoming enemies charging towards you all.

that's when you realized that reinforcements arrived and started killing their way towards the crowd, slowly aiming towards kafka's head.

not wishing to see kafka injured, you broke free from the trio and sliced through the air, contact with an reinforcement's sword. kafka, ━ sensing someone was behind her ━ unknowingly shot a bullet through your shoulder and neck, thinking you were just another weak enemy of hers.

how horribly wrong she was.

you choked out blood as stelle screamed your name and started heading towards you through the blazing red. at the sound of your name, kafka's eyes widened as she saw your familiar figure slowly collapse towards the ground due to the pain her bullets delivered.

"y/n!" kafka's voice sounded muffled in your ears as she kneeled and delicately grabbed ahold of your broken body. she saw the gushing blood pouring out of your deep wounds but yet, you still smiled at her softly.

you placed a hand on one of her smooth cheeks and sadly laughed, "kafka. . you left so fast. . . i don't think you know how secretly happy i was to see you again but i didn't have time to call out for you."

kafka's smiled dimmed as she said with an urgent tone, "you were?. . ill stop this all for you, just stay alive for me and. ."

but she never finished her sentence as your eyes suddenly widened. a soldier was heading straight for kafka, aiming towards her heart.

you wouldn't allow that at all, even for the person who was supposed to be considered your enemy.

"kafka, look OUT!" you shoved her away from you roughly and onto the dead grass, her eyes slightly watering.

just as the blade drove straight through your heart.

it seemed as if time slowed down for you all. at the sound of your cry, the astral express crew turned their attention on you and stopped battling. kafka eyes widened even more and for the first time. . .

she felt fear.

she was on her torn knees as she saw your bloody figure descend towards the ground with a thud, your hair flowing upwards as you did and a hand over your bloody wound.

you laid there in pain, blood seeping out from everywhere in your body. from the slashes of the manipulated soldiers to the bullets from kafka's gun to alas, the stab to your heart.

a sad expression fell upon your face as your tears dried out. kafka put a gloved hand over her lips and sobbed. why did you have to sacrifice yourself just for her? why did it have to be you?

that's when she had enough. she took out her own sharp weapon and stabbed her own body, collapsing with you.

she didn't care. nothing mattered anymore. elio's script went to waste. her hair was disheveled. her smile was gone. your smile was gone.

weakly, she crawled towards you. her last wish was to be with you once more. her only closest friend. her once true love was dead.

and it was her fault. she ruined it all.

what if she didn't join the stellaron hunters just to bring a change to her life? what if she never abandoned you and leave you in the dirt? what if she never manipulated those foolish soldiers? what if it was her that got stabbed? what if she just never joined the dark side at all?

ah, there are no what-ifs anymore.

with her lovely eyes drooping heavily for a final rest, she slipped her gloved hand into your dirtied one. her smile returned a bit, only the ends curving upwards a tiny bit.

and with that, her final words for you?

"i love you."

A/N: HJAKKAKSAK my first oneshot and an angsty one too >:) but fr tho was it okay 😭 i need advice on how to make my bio aesthetic like those top tier writers like PLZ yall my biggest inspo 🙏 anyways tysm to those who see this, hope it wasn't too shitty TvT

also uhhh mdzs fans out there? do yk where i got the death idea from

maybe ill write the astral express crew's pov next?? who knows 😛

ill cya again >:)

[apompkwrites]

mysteries of a roseheart || riddle rosehearts

masterlist characters: trey (platonic) genre: angst contains: trey pov trey pov :D, i kinda wrote trey... selfish ig?, summary: trey clover spends his days trying to break (name) rosehearts out of their shell. when he reports their behavior to riddle, he seems... proud? notes: i really wanted to explore trey's relationship with riddle and (name) in this part :)), idk i kinda like this idea of trey? parts: [og post] | [rules of a roseheart (1)] | [school life of a roseheart (2)] | [mysteries of a roseheart (3)] | [name pending (4)]

the moment trey clover had heard the rosehearts name come out of one of the incoming student's mouth, he knew he could do something now. his regrets with not helping riddle when he should have could finally be quelled and maybe, just maybe, he could still indirectly help him.

he made it his goal that day to establish a relationship with them. he figured it would be easy, right? he was good friends with riddle despite his mother's teachings so it should be the same case with them, right?

wrong.

he learned this fact fairly quickly when (name) rosehearts merely responded with short answers to his questions. "they're fine" were the usual responses he was given. it wasn't too often that he would something other than that.

and that fact... bothered him to a certain extent. sure, he was used to the more silent members of the dorm. that characteristic was quite prevalent considering riddle's tendencies. however, their silence was different. it wasn't as if they were scared or nervous about messing up. it wasn't as if they were a naturally quiet person. it was as if they merely lacked the ability to be anything but that.

maybe riddle had good insight into this strange aspect of his sibling. he had to, right?

"riddle," trey called to the redhead, who simply paused in his writing. his head twitched slightly, a signal he often used to permit trey to continue. "i'm... curious about your sibling. would it be too much for me to ask?"

"what about?" he hummed in reponse. his brief pause ceased as his hand started to move, scribbling something on a paper that trey could only assume was for the upcoming unbirthday party.

"they seem..." robotic? apathetic? what would be a good word to describe them? "how do i put this... indifferent?"

"how so?" riddle's tone rubbed trey the wrong way. he couldn't really express that, though, could he?

"ah, they just... they... are quite obedient, i guess is a good way to put it? very quiet, as well."

"i see... and is that a bad thing?" ah. so that's how it is. "mother would be proud of them. maybe i should write her a letter..."

proud of them? trey held back a grumble, something he found himself doing often when riddle's mother was brought up.

in hindsight, maybe he should have expected this. if riddle was the way he was, why did he expect his younger sibling to be any different? correction: they were different, but for the worse.

was apathy a praised trait in the rosehearts family? it couldn't be, right? riddle was the furthest from apathetic as far as trey was concerned. so why? why was (name) rosehearts different from riddle? they were only a year or so younger than him, right? so why were they different? and... if they were different, is trey too late? did he fail before he could even begin?

"trey," riddle called after a few minutes, holding out a paper for trey to grab. "here. a copy of the upcoming unbirthday plans. please carry them out accordingly."

"...of course," was all trey could say as he took the paper from riddle's hand. his eyes glanced over the next paper his hand hovered over, a neatly written "dear mother" in the left corner.

"(name)!" trey called out as he spotted the first year. the little rosehearts paused for a moment, allowing trey to catch up to them. he smiled softly at them, muttering, "good morning," under his breath.

they merely nodded in response.

"how are your classes so far? i'm sure professor crewel's already started on memorization, right?" trey hummed, only to earn another nod in return. and trey could only sigh in response.

another failed attempt, he would note, pushing his glasses up. he managed to fall in step with the little rosehearts, something he often found himself struggling with due to their smaller stature. he rattled on and on the same way he always did. he talked and talked and talked and--

"you'll be late." their voice made trey pause. he tilted his head, as if he were about to ask a question, but stopped when (name) nodded up at the clock in the hall.

"ah! sorry, i guess i got caught up again," trey laughed awkwardly before bidding farewell to the little rosehearts, scurrying down the hall in search of his classroom. (name), on the other hand, paid no mind to their vice house warden and, instead, walked into the classroom.

what nagged at trey over the school day was the words he had yet to see on the paper riddle was writing that morning. he was so sure that it was ms. rosehearts's fault for her children's behavior. he had seen it with riddle growing up and now he had to see the repercussions in (name).

so what could riddle have been ready to write?

"mother would be proud of them. maybe i should write her a letter..."

if riddle was going to write to his mother about his sibling's obedience, or rather their apathy towards anything, what would happen the next time a break comes around?

all of this thinking was making trey's head spin and his chest tighten. he needed to help them.

if it was for their sake or for his, he couldn't, and frankly didn't want to, say.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @random-fandoms7 @thedianaclark @tjjjrsj @shadypuppyinternet @thelegendaryfluffypotato13 @buzzybeethings @bigcandlesmolbrain @iiyumii @sunsethw4 @food-lover9000

[soup-scope]

tiktok users driving me insane pt.2 ig

so i’ve seen this one take that’s been clogging up my feed on tiktok lately so imma expose my thoughts about it here because i care about my safety

“erik has a problem with lazy writing because his problematic characters are still alive”

characters like alexis, kody, and quinn^^

what i think these people doing fully understand about Erik’s job, is that it’s a JOB. he has to keep this series going as long as possible or else he will not be getting *MONEY* from it. does it suck that he’s going to have to drag plotlines a bit? yes. but is it also lazy writing? no.

if he solved the quinn problem next fucking week, that could’ve been months of income lost from videos like talking about quinn or planning what to do with him in general.

there’s a reason why we haven’t gotten a wedding video from David yet. As much as Erik is a content creator and writing, he’s also a person who needs an INCOME.

and the “problematic characters” (idk why that’s in quotes the characters are horrible people lmao) that he keeps alive, are for GOOD REASON. what kind of story doesn’t have “villains”/characters with very questionable morals. do they want him to immediately kill those characters and then have no conflict for the rest of the series? i understand a good portion of the redacted fandom REALLY don’t like the audios with confrontations/angst in them, but i believe in order to keep his story engaging to others, you HAVE to have conflict of a sort, otherwise there’s only so many videos that can be made.

i understand why people are uncomfortable with the fact that *those* characters are still alive/faced not as severe consequences. and all i have to say is “be patient”. they will get what’s coming to them in due time. it sucks that we have to wait for that to happen, but erik also has like 30+ storylines going on at the same time. he will make his way to those *specific* ones when he will

i think i’m just annoyed at people who constantly expect content creators to curate to *THEIR* needs, when someone is just posting his lil stories and we get a front row seat to him posting them. he’s not making the stories *JUST* for us yall.

ok long ass rant over 👍👍 tik tok redactedverse makes me stressed 😭

[velvetstreets]

I had a story idea where jack is in a relationship with the reader biy one night he gets really drunk and sleeps with some girl and he forgets to ask for nda and her phone and she sneaks a picture of him and post on IG and there’s a big scandal going on how he’s a cheater and when he finds out he goes straight to the reader and finds the house empty well her side he knows he fucked up and the reader just disappears no one heard of her or nothing not even the reader parents she was just gone if you wanna add like years later she re appears however ending you want it 🫣

A/N: AHHH FIRST ANGST FIC LETS GOOOO, I hope y’all like 🫶

———————————————————————

You body was stiff. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling - anger, pain, disgust, disappointment. A mixture of all of them really is what you felt as you sat in your shared bed, which was currently empty and alone of your boyfriend’s presence.

“Jack Harlow caught cheating on girlfriend with random girl!” Read the headline. You wanted to cry but the tears were caught in your throat instead. You could ask a million questions as to why, who, how, but it didn’t matter anyways. He still cheated, that was the point. He cared so little about you that he went and had sex with this random girl, instead of coming home to his girlfriend of 3 years. You weren’t gonna wait around to hear shit from him. He wanted to be out all night and not come home, leave no texts or calls, and fuck some random bitch? Then you decided you wouldn’t give him the chance to ever explain himself, or try and charm his way back to your good side.

You got up and started packing your things. Pictures, clothes, shoes, toothbrush, trinkets that commemorated memories with Jack, all of it. By the time you were done, it looked like you have never even entered the apartment before. It looked empty and alone, just how Jack had left you. You opened the door to leave the apartment and looked back at it one last time. You held back a sob, your heart clenching at leaving something you once recognized as home and love, was now just an apartment.

Jack’s POV

Jack woke up in a bed he didn’t recognize, and a girl he didn’t know who was in the process of putting her clothes on. His head was throbbing at any sound and the sunlight that peeked in through the window was excruciatingly bright.

”Morning, baby.” The girl smiled at him.

“Fuck.” He thought.

“Don’t call me that, I don’t even know who you are. This was a mistake, it meant nothing.” Jack glared at her.

“Don’t try and pretend you don’t know who I am now Jack, you were moaning my name all last night.” She smirked at him, putting a heel on.

“Shut up, just leave.” He told her, the guilt eating away at him.

She frowned at him, grabbing her purse and walked out the hotel room. As the door closed behind her, she looked back at it as she waited for the elevator. She looked through her camera roll, selecting one from the previous night with Jack. “Hmm we look cute.” She smiled at the screen before posting it on instagram, with the caption “he came home cause the kids missed him 🥰”. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened as she smiled and walked in, letting the doors shut as chaos was about to arise.

Jack was about to call you when he got a mass income of texts and dms. He opened them, and his heart sank. A picture of him sleeping with his arm wrapped around the girls waist and his head nuzzled her neck as she wore a cheeky smile.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK! How could I be so fucking stupid, the fucking NDA.” Jack groaned, hitting himself in the head. Not only did he cheat, he didn’t have the decency to keep it on the low before he told you; now it was out everywhere. He couldn’t imagine how embarrassed and angry your must’ve felt.

“Y/N-“ Jack gasped from his silent sobs. He distraughtly grabbed his phone, pressing you contact number several times, letting it ring before hearing your voicemail and then repeating the same actions.

“FUCK!” Jack yelled after several tries, knowing that he couldn’t get through to you because you had now probably seen the headlines. He wiped his face from the tears that had slipped. Jack took a deep breath before grabbing his keys and phone before heading out the door. He jumped in his car, speeding to your shared apartment as he continued to try calling you. Once he pulled up, he jumped out and sprinted to the door, his thoughts all jumbled but ready to work this out with you.

“Baby?” He called out, taking his keys out of the door. The living room looked a little bare, which confused Jack as he continued further into the apartment. He finally made his way to the bedroom and that’s when his heart officially broke. You were gone. All your clothes were gone from the dresser and the closet. Your hair and skin products gone from the bathroom. Pictures, jewelry, perfume, trinkets, any and all signs of you were gone.

“Baby, n-no.. she- it was a m-mistake..” Jack let out a broken sob as he sunk to his knees. It wasn’t until he saw the gold plated “J” necklace he had given you on your 6 month anniversary, that Jack broke down. You never took it off, never went anywhere without it, it was a token of your love - that you were Jack’s and he was yours. And now it sat here on the bed. He knew you were serious, and well within your rights to be. Jack felt he could just talk to you, explain everything, he’d be able to fix it. He called your friends, parents, anyone he knew to figure out where you went. None of them knew, or refused to tell you - which was valid.

“I’m so sorry baby, s-so so sorry, Y/N.” Jack’s voice cracked as his words floated around in the empty apartment.

4 Years Later…

Y/N POV

“Which popsicles do you want, baby?” You said as you turned into the frozen aisle with your cart.

“Orange!!” Your 3 year-old daughter cheered, and you laughed.

“Orange! I thought you wanted Cherry!” You teased her and she stuck her tongue out in response.

“Eeewwww no, mommy.” She said and you smiled at her. You opened the freezer door and grabbed the orange popsicles and tossed them in the cart. You looked down at your list before a voice brought you out of your trance.

“Y-Y/N?” His Kentucky accent shining through as ever. You froze and slowly turned around.

“Jack?” You uttered out in confusion. What the hell was he doing here, and not in KY or Atlanta?

“HIIIIII, my name’s Imani!!!” Your daughter cheerfully waved at Jack.

Jack’s eyes widened as he waved back.

“Is she- is she mi-“ he started to say before you cut him off.

“No.” You said sternly, the hurt still present from his actions from 4 years ago. You hoped he didn’t notice the way her curls were extra curly, the way her dimples dug into her cheeks, and how her laugh was just like his. She was like him in every way, which broke your heart a little to see so much of Jack in her, but she got his best qualities so you were nevertheless so in love with your little creation. You found out you were pregnant a few weeks after everything went down. At first you didn’t know what to do, your emotions all over the place because of Jack, and now the growing baby that was in you. Eventually you decided she was something that you wanted, with or without Jack. Yeah you should’ve told him, but you figured you wouldn’t see him again and it was better for the both of you to be without him.

“Look Jack, it’s good to see you, but we have to go, I’m sorry-“ you stammered, turning to push your cart with your child away from Jack.

“No wait-“ he gently put his hand on your arm.

“Even if she isn’t mine, I’d still treat her like she is. Please y/n, let’s just talk.” Jack pleaded with you.

You looked up at his blue irises that you had secretly missed so much. Tears brimmed your eyes, and you bent your head down, shaking it.

“I can’t. I can’t Jack, I’m sorry. We both did things we shouldn’t have, and defiantly didn’t handle them well. But I’ve moved on, I can’t deal with this now, I’m over it.” You exhaled.

“Shit, I can’t do this right now. I gotta go.” You turned again, turning your attention back to Imani as she had started to open snacks you hadn’t paid for and babbling at Jack even though he wasn’t paying attention - being more preoccupied with you.

You stated to walk away quickly, before he called your name again.

“Please. We don’t have to do this now, but if you ever want to, please just call or text me. Anytime y/n, I’m serious.” He said giving you a piece of paper with a new number on it. You nodded, taking it from him and shoving it in your purse.

His hand lingered on yours for a moment.

“I still love you..” he whispered. You felt the tears rushing to your eyeline again, and decided you had to get out of this, immediately.

“You should’ve thought about that when you were fucking some other girl.” You said harshly, with a twinge of pain at the end. “Goodbye, Jack.” You said before pushing reaching in the cart to pull Imani out and exiting the store, leaving all your un purchased groceries there.

Tears streamed down your face as you made your way to your car.

“Mommy ok?“ Imani softly asked, looking at you.

“Yeah baby, mommy’s okay.” You smiled at her. She leaned in and kissed you and you let out an emotional giggle, not understanding how such a perfect human came from you and Jack. You buckled her in her car seat and got in the drivers seat. You looked at your purse which had Jack’s scribbled number peeking out of it, taunting you. You shook your head as you started the car and pulled out the parking lot, confused about what steps you’d take next, if any at all, with Jack.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @jackharlows-world @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @dessmxsworld @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @thysagclub

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter thirty-eight: Lavender Haze

series masterlist

Summary: Their first date might have started rocky, but everything goes according to plan after that and for the first time, Eliza and Matt can breathe and enjoy each other's presence in more ways than one.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Fluff, slight angst, but it's just tooth-rotting, Taylor Swift references to the nines, unprotected p in v (wrap it folks), oral (f!& m!receiving), coming untouched, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft dom!Matt, praise kink, cum play, cum eating, breeding kink if you squint, forced orgasm, squirting (bye)

a/n: Um, I said I had a schedule and everything but things keep getting in the way like my birthday on Friday??? Roaring 20s incoming. I’m not ready. I’m probably getting Comic Con tickets for next December from my dad, so that’s fun. Finally some bonding time after my childhood was screwed up and I got daddy issues, but he’s trying ig? I will have officially outrun teen pregnancy on Friday, let’s appreciate that instead.

Wednesdays come before Thursdays, right? And I hate Thursdays. So let’s just keep it that way and enjoy this.

Anyway! Holy shit, this is so cute and hot and I'm so proud of myself for this. The light in this gif might not be lavender, but I incorporated this exact move in the chapter so you know it'll be good. You're welcome.

Brb taking my clothes off for Matty boy...

18+ MINORS DNI

Thursday happens a day before Friday, and Friday is the last day before the weekend, so on Thursdays, the week is pretty much over. Especially students and working people think that way because it makes the week go over faster and gives you something to look forward to – a much-needed break.

Eliza never paid much thought to Thursdays. Any day of the week was a nuisance. Waking up in the morning was incredibly hard and she hated the body she was in. That was until she decided that this was no way to live and Matt Murdock made her feel like the most important person in the world. The only woman, for all eternity. She didn’t need to be anyone else’s favorite as long as he loved her, and life got a little less exhausting with him. 

They met on a Thursday. She didn’t remember the day, but she remembered the date and the exact moment she felt his arms around her, trying to stop her from making a mistake. She went ahead anyway. He saved her life that night. Without him, none of the things she accomplished would have been possible. Without him, she would have drowned. She couldn’t have done this alone. 

Now here she was on a Thursday, four weeks after all hell broke loose, alive and well, squeezing herself into a burgundy dress she got on Happy’s very generous account. Matt told her that he made reservations at a small, local restaurant, nothing too fancy, but that she should probably wear a dress nonetheless. He wanted to treat her right, and if his wallet had to bleed for that, he would even sell his soul. 

The dress she chose was made out of pure silk, wrapping around her frame and tied on the side with a small bow that she tied herself. The sleeves were loose and reached down to her elbow, flowing around with every move. Eyeing herself in the mirror, she suddenly grew self-conscious. The top of the very prominent scar poked out of the rather deep cleavage, and the bra that kept her breasts pushed up enough to give a good picture to anyone watching didn’t distract from the fact that it was there. 

She bought expensive lingerie just for him, but as she stared at herself in the mirror, all she wanted was to cry. Repulsive; the first word that came to mind. She hated how she looked in a dress now. 

Eliza blinked the tears away, not wanting to destroy her makeup. She put a lot of effort into looking presentable, to make her figure feel good for him, she even applied the perfume he liked on her so much, but none of that mattered because all she wanted to do was tear the burgundy silk off her skin, get out of the lingerie and lock herself away in the closet where no one could see her in the dark. 

She considered getting a pair of flowy pants and a dress shirt and call it a day. She could still look fancy with something that wasn’t a dress. But it was silk and he loved silk. She bought everything she had on just for him, even the heels because she wanted to give him a show for his senses. She wanted him to feel her smooth, shaven skin and the way the clothes hugged her figure. She knew Matt was a sucker for everything he could explore with his hands. He couldn’t see her, so this was the least she could do. Besides, she wanted to look good for herself. It had been the plan, anyway, before she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

Fuck, she thought. She couldn’t go out like that, and if Matt smelled the unshed tears tangled in her lashes, he would ask what was wrong. She wasn’t even sure why the small top of the scar bothered her so much, but the sight alone had her clenching her fists. She wanted it to be gone so that she wouldn’t have to be remembered anymore, but that was nearly impossible. 

She hated her body as much as she hated herself. To think she just started getting better… she worked so hard for what? Just to be thrown back again? She didn’t want to feel so worthless, but the more she thought about everything that was wrong with her, the more she needed to cry. She couldn’t hold it anymore. The first tear rolled. She wiped it away fast, checking if her mascara started to run, but it was still intact. At least something went right. 

She hated Thursdays. 

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Of course, he heard her. She sometimes forgot how good Matt was at picking up certain clues. His senses were enhanced, after all, but he also knew her well enough to check in on her every once in a while. While it might not have seemed that way to others, this was a big deal for her, and the anxiety wore her thin. 

Eliza felt overwhelmed by everything. Going to dinner in a crowded, fancy Manhattan restaurant would only make it worse. At this point, she would have settled for a cheap burger at the diner across the street, or a sandwich from the deli. 

Matt leaned against the door frame. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

He already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” she said. His eyebrows shot up. Quieter this time, she admitted, “No.” Her voice cracked. She lowered her head. His gaze which wasn’t a gaze much rather than a concerned look burned under her skin and her cheeks started to burn from the embarrassed blush. 

She got caught up in her insecurities. He would try to pull her out, but she wasn’t sure if that was possible. She was too deep in now. 

Still, he was nothing if determined, and perhaps she misjudged his abilities. She underestimated him time and time again. 

Matt stepped up behind her. His hand found her shoulders, tracing over the skin of her upper arms before he reached the sleeves. “Silk,” he murmured, “Nice.”

“I made sure you’d be comfortable,” she said. 

“That’s nice of you, but that’s not what’s most important tonight. What’s on your mind?” He pulled her hair aside, pressing gentle kisses to the skin of her neck. She sighed. 

“Too much.”

“Why were you crying?”

“Do you think that the scar…” Eliza fidgeted with her fingers, toying with the rings and chipping away the black nail polish she applied. He patted the back of her hand, telling her to stop. “Do you think I look repulsive?” she asked him. 

He wasn’t sure what the right reaction would have been in a case like this. Her fear seemed so irrational because she was anything but repulsive, he couldn’t take it seriously. But to her, the scar and how it looked to others meant the world. She wasn’t particularly interested in how other people viewed her body, but the scar was a ghastly reminder of darker times, and to have people staring at it would have been even worse. The thought alone felt humiliating enough to make her stomach churn, and she got sick. 

Matt’s thumb slid over her shoulder blade. Goosebumps followed in his wake. “What?” he asked. “Why would you ask me that?”

He was the last person to think that way about anyone, especially her. 

“Be honest, are you still attracted to me?”

Moving his hands from her shoulders around her waist, he began to trace a finger over the exact spot where the rest of her scar lay covered under the dress. “Honey,” he purred into her ear, “You could never repulse me.”

“I’m serious, Matt.”

“I am, too. That scar…” he stopped at the top, sliding his hand between her breast. He outlined and she watched his every move in the mirror. Something about the sight of his lust-blown eyes and his hand on her chest had her gasp softly. 

“It’s proof of all that you survived,” he said. “It’s part of you. If anything, it makes you even more beautiful because it reminds me that you’re still alive. I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now, and it’s not just the dress, although it feels so fucking amazing. You amaze me, Eliza, and I want nothing more than to spend an eternity touching you.”

“If you could see it,” she began.

“I don’t care,” his voice grew firmer, “It’s just a scar. Look at me! My entire chest and back are covered in thick lines of scar tissue. Are you repulsed by me?”

She stuttered. “What? Of course not!” That he would even say that was outrageous. “You’re beautiful.”

“Then why hate on yourself?”

“I…” he had a point. She scoffed, turning away from her reflection. “It’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Different because…”

She tried hard to find a reason why her scar wasn’t the same as his – it wasn’t, she was sure of that – but the more she desperately looked into his brown eyes for any sort of agreement in them, she found none.

Eliza looked down at her heels. “Different because it’s me,” she said.

“Sweetheart, no.” He cooed softly as he tilted her head up by the chin. “Stop talking about yourself that way. I know it’s hard to accept your scars – I have trouble accepting mine and I can’t even see them – but they’re there for a reason. They’re a reminder of all that you’ve survived.“

“Exactly!” she cried out, though the sound instantly turned into a whimper when he locked her in place, forced to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be reminded,” she said, “and I don’t want the people around me to know or fantasize about what happened. I can’t… I don’t want to have other people stare at me because they’ll whisper. They always do.”

And she couldn’t drown them out, no matter how hard she tried.

He licked his lip, eyes soft as he gave her the most understanding look he could muster. He always managed to make her feel comfortable even when she didn’t feel like it.

His thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I’m sorry, baby. I know what it feels like, but that doesn’t make you repulsive. People talk, yes, but they have no right to judge you. Those who do are wrong,” he told her. “And they don’t get to tell you what you’ve been through, what that makes you or who you are.”

“I just…” she nuzzled into his hand, eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling.

He nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” she said. “I just know that I do and it sucks. I hate feeling this way. I hate letting the fear of what other people might think about me influence the way I feel about myself, but I know that as soon as I step into that restaurant, I’m going to ruin the mood because I can always feel them staring even when they’re not. It’s been like this ever since my face first became public in 2012. The whispers…” Eliza shivered and he wiped the lone tear that had slipped from her eyes before it could ruin her makeup. Considerate, he was. “I hate them,” she said. “I just hate it and I hate myself for being self-conscious enough to let it happen. I’m not usually like this, Matt, I promise.”

But Matt only shushed her again with the softest of smiles. “If it’s other people you’re worried about,” he said, “I have an idea.”

He pulled up her dress a little to cover what little he had revealed before, smoothing out the fabric before he stepped away, taking her hand in his.

“Screw the reservation I made. Let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere I’m sure there won't be many people.”

“But Matt, you planned all of this, and I-“

He squeezed her hand, cutting her off with a harsh tug at her arm. Matt tilted her chin up to brush his lips against her. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes, but-“

He kissed her to shut her up. “Then let me take you somewhere quiet instead.”

Eliza didn’t deserve him.

The quiet place he mentioned wasn’t all too far from his apartment. From the outside, the Brownstone looked like any other building, but the sign outside read the title of a Chinese proverb.

One generation plants a tree, the next enjoys its shade.

They stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Where are we?” she asked.

Matt grinned like a kid on Christmas Day, knowing and perhaps a little sheepish. “Remember how you told me you don’t like flowers but I could bring you a plant for our first date?” he answered.

“I do remember that.”

“Well, I think you’re gonna love this even more than me just buying you a potted plant.” 

“What do you mean?”

He held on tightly to her elbow. “Lead me up the stairs and you’ll see.”

She counted each step they took, five in total, and she held his hand so he wouldn’t stumble. The stairs were steep; he could seriously injure himself if he missed one. 

At the door, he let go of her, searching for the handle before opening it for her. “After you,” he said. 

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully at his cliché antics. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Maybe,” she said. 

The humid air hit her straight across the face once she stepped through the entrance into the warmth of the building. Every breath felt like a retreat for her lungs, the oxygen pure and untainted. It didn’t smell like fried food or boiled vegetables - the air was clean, void of any unnecessary scents that could cause overstimulation. For a second, she doubted he took them to a restaurant and rather to one of the many public gardens New York had to offer. 

Folding his cane and closing the door, Matt stepped in behind her. His hand searched for her rather aimlessly before he found the corner of her silk sleeve, and he wrapped his arm around her bicep to get closer. 

Beethoven played from the speakers in the ceiling, Für Elise from the sound of it, and the soft buzzing of the several fairy lights reverberated in his ears. They hung from the ceiling and flowed down the curtains and the poison ivy covered walls like streams of rain, frozen in place. Not many heartbeats could be heard inside, only the faint clanking of porcelain in the kitchen and the breeze of the air conditioning that came from the vents. 

The velvet curtains separated the entrance hall from the restaurant itself. Eliza stopped, not being able to see through them, and it had her uneasy. She trusted him, but she didn’t trust the strange place. 

His hand on the small of her back urged her forward. Soon enough, he had her shoved through the curtains - they were tinted in the softest lavender shade she had ever seen before. She touched them with her fingertips. It was real velvet, probably expensive too. 

Upon their entrance, the song ended, instead replaced by another classical piece of music - she took a moment to recognize the artist, but after the first three notes she realized that it was Tchaikovsky, one of his lesser-known piano pieces. 

The inside of the Brownstone appeared as if taken from a fairy tale. There was not an inch of the golden-painted walls that weren’t covered in poison ivy or strings of roses. Whites ones, not red ones. Trees raked from the ground and grew into the ceiling, covering the ancient painting of angels and demons with purely green leaves. Every corner of the room was home to a different kind of plant, mostly those that could easily survive inside a sunless environment. The furniture consisted mostly of pieces made out of natural wood, the colors varying with every table and every chair, and the bar at the far end looked like it was cut from Mahagoni.

The plates and cutlery all had precise paintings of nature on the edges, not perfect but something much rarer. You couldn’t find pieces like this anywhere. Not to speak of the fairy lights and candles that offered the only source of light. Scentless candles burned inside the chandelier, only far enough away not to set the plants on fire, but the engraved glass of the lamp hung low enough so that you could see every detail.

The fairy lights reflected and broke against the glass, projecting little rainbows onto the poison ivy on the walls. Everywhere Eliza looked, another shade of green - another source of light opened up. Her lungs filled with pure oxygen, and the rigorous waves of the ocean in her mind eased up, retreating into a state of calm with only a little wind to disturb her. 

Some of the leaves to her right rustled. She gasped when a small butterfly broke out of the confines and continued its way across the room into the next tree. 

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered, Matt’s name only a breath on her tongue. “If you could see this place…”

She didn’t know that he had seen it once. The only reason he knew that it existed was that his father took him there on his seventh birthday the first time, and then for two more executive years until he turned nine. It was his last birthday before the accident — before he lost his eyesight forever.

The Chinese restaurant was a small interior garden with an oxygen quality that exceeded the polluted New York air and managed to calm his overworked senses in a way that he would only ever get in a rainforest again. The picture remained, imprinted in his brain. He could never forget the day his father surprised him by taking him there. 

As a boxer, Jack Murdock barely made enough to get himself and his son by, but he tried his best. Every once in a while, he would put one or two bills of his win aside and save it for a later time. He would refrain from buying anything for himself to make sure Matt received a gift and dinner for his birthday. On the same day in November every year, Jack Murdock constructed a day that was all about his son, and he gave him everything he could have possibly wanted. And even though it wasn’t much because money was limited, Matt was more than grateful that he got the memories with his father. Playing football in the park, eating ice cream, buying him a cheap toy car, and then going to dinner together - his life before he got blind and his father died had been somewhat normal and every last thing he remembered about that time was happy in one way or another. 

Sometimes, when he would set foot into the restaurant now, he thought back to simpler times and how relieved his father had been every time they went there. Only on his birthday had he laughed so much, happy to have Matt in his life, and he made sure he felt that. Ever since his father died though, Matt hated his birthday, and that was one of the reasons why. 

He had never actively shared the restaurant with anyone in his life. It was his and his father’s little secret. A happy place they frequented and Matt often went to long after Jack died because he knew the owner and they got along well. He helped her out of legal trouble once when he was still at Landman & Zach, and ever since then, he visited the restaurant once a month to make sure the family that owned the place was alright. And when someone tried to break in, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t so far off and beat the intruders senseless before they could burn down what the kind Mrs. Chao built for herself. Her kids were to inherit the place someday - it was a family legacy. He had to make sure it stayed that way. 

He was afraid that if he showed this childhood memory to anyone, he would get pitied again. He was afraid that his bubble would burst as soon as he introduced his present to the past and then it wouldn’t be just his memory anymore. It would become a widely known fact. 

Taking Eliza there had been a last-minute decision, but weirdly enough, when they stepped in, Matt no longer cared about the fact that this was a memory he and his father shared and that his childhood was his to keep, no one else’s; he wanted her to know. He wanted to show her where he came from, and he wanted to share the happiness with her.

He knew how relaxing the colors could be and how the pure oxygen made breathing a little easier. It offered an escape. The entire place was so beautiful, looking at it appeared like a fever dream. The lights worked their magic to get you into a dreamy mindset. The more you gazed around, the more the enchanted forest bewitched you. 

Mrs. Chao greeted Matt like she would an old friend. She nodded knowingly at the girl, then pointed to a table in the back. He nodded. “Table in the back would be nice,” he said. 

She guided them there, but Eliza was lost in another world. She had been to many enchanted places before and had seen rainforests and castles covered in gold, but the restaurant was beautiful in a whole different way. It was pure, not manipulated. 

Matt listened to her elevated heartbeat, the clear sign of adoration in the way she sighed ever so often at the sight of a new plant, and her fingers raking over the leaves closest to their table. She shook her head. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

“Like it? This is… I’m so overwhelmed right now,” she said. 

“In a good or a bad way?”

“I love it, Matt. This place is so beautiful.”

And it was more than quiet. No curious stares, only them and a few couples on the other end of the room, but the wall and the plants protected them from being seen. 

He smiled. “Just like you.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her heart jumped. 

“And you’re more than perfect to me.”

“Oh, screw you!” Eliza gave a broken laugh. She could already taste the salt on her tongue. “Why do you have to be so fucking adorable?” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Matt shrugged. “You’re you and that’s more than enough.”

“Fuck. I just… I love you.”

“I know you do,” he took her hand from across the table, “And I love you too.”

The pocket of his suit jacket suddenly weighed more than a hundred pounds. She kissed his scarred knuckles, but he barely felt it. The nerves had him bordering on insanity. He managed to hold off for the past day, not once hinting at what he bought, but as she sat before him now, he couldn’t control the nauseating feeling of anxiety that got him shaking on the edge of his seat. 

Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat to tell him what she struggled most with expressing. Words were never enough, she wanted to show him somehow, but as incompetent as she was with emotions, that seemed impossible. She didn’t know anything. At twenty-three she was even more clueless than she was at eighteen when Natasha saved her from hell. She was useless when it came to relationships. 

“Thank you for staying,” she murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t wait for me.”

She told him he didn’t have to, but it was a blatant lie she told herself. If he had told her that he didn’t love her anymore, it would have torn her apart. She wouldn’t have survived him leaving for good, even after telling him to. Why did no one tell her how twisted that had been?

“And thank you for not giving up on me, Matthew. Really, I- okay, you were the only one who didn’t give up on me, even when I did, and if you hadn’t done that, I’m sure the universe would have found a way to eradicate me.”

He shook his head, softly turning her hand so that her palm pointed toward the ceiling. “If you love someone, you’d do anything not to lose them,” he told her, “and I’d be an idiot if I ever gave up on you, not when you are the one person I love and need the most in this entire, god-forsaken world. God failed me,” he said, “But you’re here, and it makes me think that maybe the lord does have funny ways of showing he cares. You were my sign. You screwed up but so did I. We both hurt each other. That’s human nature. We might be slightly toxic, but that doesn’t make me want you any less. If anything, it makes me want to try and be better with you. Just the two of us, together. The way things are supposed to be. Why else would we have found back together if not to actually be together?”

“The odds were never in our favor,” she said. 

“Yeah, but we beat the odds. Can’t say that about just anyone.”

“I always thought I was never meant to love anyone…” Eliza trailed off, her voice dangerously close to breaking, and the tears once again pricked at the corner of her eyes. She blew raspberries, trying to hold off the inevitable. She was so in love, it made her emotional. 

Matt smiled at her, his teeth showing with how giddy he looked. “What happened?” he asked.

“You did,” she returned his smile, “It’s always you.”

And it would be always him. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He finally reached into his pocket. His cheeks displayed the faintest of blushes. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He struggled to reach what he was searching for. 

Her eyes narrowed. “Matthew,” her tone took on a warning tinge. 

He retrieved the small box, placing it into her palm. Her fist closed around it, eyes wide as she stared at him, and she wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking at.

“Relax,” he told her, “it’s not a ring.”

“Oh, thank God!” She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

Matt nodded toward the box. “Open it.” He played with his dress pants. “There’s no reason for you to worry, I promise.”

He was worried though, worried she might not like it. 

“I saw it and I thought of you, so I had to buy it.”

“Here’s the thing,” Eliza began, reaching for her purse, “You’re not the only one who had that thought.”

She pulled out a box the size of the one he got her, though hers matched the burgundy of her dress. She placed it into his open hand, closing his fist around it and urging him to open it.

He stuttered, tracing his fingers over the velvety material. “Are you kidding me?” There was no bow, but the box had an easy clasp he could open with one pull. 

Eliza made her gift accessible enough for him and he wanted nothing more than to scold her for even buying him something in the first place, but he couldn’t, not when he could imagine her innocent look and the nervous biting of her bottom lip. 

Awkwardly, she chuckled. “I was shopping for a dress with Happy – and his credit card – and I saw it in one of the shop windows, and I couldn’t help myself,” she said.

“You actually got me something?” He stroked over the velvet again. 

“Yeah.”

“So I worried for no reason?”

“I mean, I’m not sure if you’re gonna like it…” she shrugged. “I just thought it was cute.”

“You know whatever it is you bought me, I can’t see it anyway, right?”

She kicked him and he laughed, his nervosity beginning to fade. “It’s not something you have to see to enjoy,” she said. 

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

“You first.”

“What is it with you and this box?” Finally, she managed to get the bow off. Her heart sped up the closer she got to opening it. 

Matt fidgeted with the box that held his gift. His knee bounced. Agonizingly slow, Eliza opened the clasp and took a look inside the dark confines. What he bought her laid splayed out on a white cushion, golden and thin, and the pendant itself had the form of a puzzle piece. 

She didn’t speak for a whole thirty seconds. He doubted she even breathed. Eventually, she gasped, and her hand reached for the necklace inside the box. 

“Oh, my God,” she choked, “This is…” She couldn’t find the words to describe it. 

He had bought her a necklace with a small pendant the shape and size of a tiny puzzle piece that held three tiny dots filled with amethyst, two in a row and one below, and on top of that the letter M was engraved. Eliza didn’t know much about Braille, but the alphabet wasn’t all too hard, so she recognized the series in which the crystals were aligned.

“Why’d you do that?” Her lip quivered and soon enough, a tear slipped past her red-tinted lips, into her mouth. “Now you made me cry.”

This was not the reaction he expected. “I’m sorry,” said Matt, but the smile that adorned his face told her that he wasn’t sorry. He enjoyed the fact that she liked it enough to cry. It was a compliment. 

She sniffled, searching for the clasp before slipping the necklace around her throat and closing it at the back. It aligned perfectly with the necklace Natasha gave her, but she doubted that was intentional. 

“Amethyst is meant to-”

She cut him off, “Protect the people you gift it to, yes. It’s a protecting crystal, just like hematite. I know.”

“Well, the jeweler I got this from had a sale and he was about to throw it out because he doesn’t sell many Braille necklaces, so I asked him if he could engrave it one more time and I’d take it for the original price.”

“And you took it,” she concluded. 

“I took it,” he said, “Because I figured it was a sign that M was the only letter he had left.”

“I love it.” Eliza hugged the pendant close to her chest. “I will never take it off again.”

“Maybe you should while showering, I’m not sure if it’s real gold.”

“I don’t care if it stains me green, I’m not taking it off. You got me that so I’m not letting it out of my sight.“

She was a very serious person when it came to gifts. 

He could only imagine her pout. “That’s fine by me,” he said and started undoing the clasp on the box she got him.

Matt popped the cap open. Unlike her, he had to feel first before he could give an appropriate reaction. He could tell it was metal, too, alone from the smell of it. He felt around the soft inside until he reached the object.

A round pendant attached to a chain, a broader one than the one she wore. The silver – gold felt much different, even fake one; it was much heavier than silver – was kept thin so it wouldn’t disturb his skin too much, and she made sure not to use any cheap material that could stain or be itchy to him. He took it out, analyzing the surface. That was when he felt it. 

His chin tilted up, his mind processing the letters he felt. Small dots spread over the metal, bulging in a frequency that formed a sentence. 

He scoffed, “You did not.”

“Yeah, I guess we both had the same kind of luck. Jewelers selling Braille necklaces. Except mine wasn’t on sale.”

The necklace spelled:

I love you 

- E.

In the letters of the Braille alphabet.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked jewelry that isn’t your cross necklace, but I saw it and I had to buy it,” she said. “I made them add the E because I wanted you to know that it was from me, not some random person, so if anything ever happened to me you’d have something to hold onto, to remind you of how I felt about you. Or if we ever hit a rough patch you can look at me and know that I love you. It’s… it’s a promise necklace.”

Matt raised his hand, shushing her. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

“We know how fast things can change, Matthew, especially with the way we’re living, and proving my love to you is something that I want to do in all the ways I can. I want you to know that I accept you, all of you. You should have a piece of me with you always so you know I support you in everything you do. I choose you, ragged edges and all.” She leaned in, lowered her voice, and added, “Daredevil and Matt Murdock. I choose you both.” 

“Okay, fuck it!” He expertly closed the clasp of the necklace, then pulled at her arm to get her to the other side. “C’mere.”

She ended up on the chair next to him and he didn’t waste a second smashing his lips into hers. Holding her face with both of his large hands, there was no more space between them. He had full control over her. 

The softest moan got stuck in her throat when he started to nibble at her bottom lip. Matt pulled away only hesitantly, clasping his hand over her mouth. 

“Shh,” he cooed, “not so loud, sweetheart. You’re gonna attract everyone’s attention.”

As Eliza leaned her forehead against his shoulder, he buried his nose in her hair, pressing another gentle kiss to her scalp.

She tugged at the necklace she bought him, pulling him further down until she could reach his ear. Licking her lips made enough sound for him to hear the pull of saliva off her skin and how she still smelled of the coffee they had for lunch. 

Between the heartwarming gifts and the atmosphere of the oxygen-rich environment, he forgot how much of a tease she could be. Rather forcefully, she grabbed his hand and brought it between her legs, under the silk dress, and right onto the waistband of her underwear.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He could feel the lace that slowly turned into silk around her crotch. A high-waisted thong. The more he traced the lines, the clearer the picture in his mind was painted. Once again, he could only growl when she bucked her hips into his wandering fingers over her covered clit. 

Matt chuckled, his voice slightly husky and thick with arousal. He tried to keep the blood in his head, but he was this close to getting an erection in a very public space. “Did you buy that for me too?” he asked.

She nodded, head still pressed against his shoulder. “I have more,” she said, using the closeness to bite his earlobe gently and fast, making sure no one saw the way he bowed forward to stop himself from moaning. 

He followed with the guidance of her hand down her upper thigh. He didn’t miss the elastic attached to the panties with a thin string.

“Oh, fuck me!” He curled his fist around the fabric and tugged hard enough to let it snap against her skin. “Did you plan this?”

“If you could only feel the bra I’m wearing…” she let out a prolonged sigh. “It’s see-through, made out of lace and the straps are pure silk,” she moaned. “God, you have no idea how good it feels.”

“Eliza,” he warned.

“What?” She blinked innocently with her dark lashes.

Matt bared his teeth. “Stop.”

“If you insist, Matthew.”

His hand slipped from her thigh and she returned to her chair on the opposite side of the table. “Well,” Eliza said then, “Should we eat?”

His mouth hung wide open. She had grabbed the menu halfway through her sentence and now flipped through the pages as if she hadn’t just turned him on like it was nothing.

“How about sushi?”

“I know what I want to eat,” he stated, “and it’s not on this menu.”

His cock rested painfully hard against the inside of his thigh. He tried not to think about it or reach his hand out to relieve some of the pressure – pulling her into the bathroom was no option.

She couldn’t see his eyes, but she suspected they were dark and full of lust, the brown more dominant as his sightless glossed over with the sexiest sheen of arousal. 

“And I want sushi,” she told him, deep down proud of herself for how far she got him – her plan was in full motion. 

He huffed, fist clenching in his lap. The other played with the glass of water on the table, courtesy of the owner. When she asked them for drinks, he declined and told her to bring them some water instead. He would refrain from drinking alcohol in her presence, not sure if it would be triggering. She didn’t talk much about the process with him, but he knew that if he started abusing alcohol with her around, she might get the same idea again.

He brushed the thought off. It was their first normal night out together as a couple and he didn’t want to worry about her too much. Nothing else mattered but her. Everything that happened in the past would remain there for the foreseeable future. 

The waiter came soon enough, breaking the sexual tension in two when she asked, “What can I get you two?”

Matt was about to utter his regular order when Eliza opened her mouth to say the same thing. 

They spoke at the same time, “The fried sushi plate.”

She blinked at him. “How did you-“

“It’s my regular, how did you-“

“I love fried sushi,” she stated. “The question is, why did I not know you liked sushi?”

“Because I never talked about it. I didn’t know that about you either. I mean, picky vegetarian eater… sushi wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Well, you know now, so you can take me out for sushi more often.”

“I noted that, thank you.”

“Should I just bring one big plate then?” the waiter intercepted. “For you guys to share?”

Matt nodded. “That would be nice.”

They knew hardly anything about each other, they realized. They shared their deepest, darkest secrets but when it came to the easiest pieces of information, they were like strangers to each other.

The entire time they ate their food was spent in silence. Eliza’s eyes traveled around the room, following the path of the fairy lights and the endless vines of poison ivy, an extraordinary piece of decoration. The light broke on the chandelier again, projecting the rainbow onto her plate and making the vines next to her head appear like a kaleidoscope of nature. 

Her lips parted in a sigh that sounded much more like contentment than it would have if they had chosen to eat at one of the expensive restaurants in downtown Manhattan. It was quiet and she was happy where they were. Nowhere else could they have been granted so much privacy, and the sight was truly phenomenal.

“God,” she said, “I wish I could make you see this right now. If we weren’t in public, I would. It’s so beautiful, Matt. With all the lights and the different kinds of plants, I… I’ve never been to such an enticing place before, let alone have eaten in one.” 

An enchanted forest inside of a Chinese restaurant. It sounded like something many tourists would frequent, but there was no one there but them. The peace felt almost illegal, getting to enjoy such a beautiful sight as if they were the only people on earth with no one to disturb them. 

Matt chuckled, placing his chopsticks on the now-empty plate. He crossed his hands. “Describe it to me,” he said.

“What?”

“Describe what it looks like in here. I want to see the world from your eyes.”

She got up to sit beside him again, this time all innocent when she leaned into him and began to point out every last detail that caught her attention in the best way possible.

“The walls on our right are painted in old gold, covered by strings of poison ivy. It’s growing wildly and entangled with fairy lights that hang from the ceiling like curtains. They shine a soft yellow light that, mixed with the green, offers a serene atmosphere that’s neither too light nor too dark, and it’s not too colorful either. Just enough to be easy on the eyes…”

Eliza turned to the right where the tree grew from the floor into the ceiling.

“There’s an oak tree on our side,” she told him. “Branches and leaves decorating what’s left of the gold and covering it. The fairy lights are here too. And the empty corners are adorned by different kinds of green plants, like Monstera deliciosa, there’s also a small growth of bamboo in the far right corner, Cast Iron plants, Rubber Plants and there is a small fountain that holds water lilies.”

“Water lilies?” he asked, “Really?”

She nodded. “Have I mentioned the roses that cover the wall of the bar that is made out of the darkest Mahagoni? And our tables,” she guided his hand over the natural material, “It’s wood of the purest kind. They sanded it down, obviously, but nothing else has been done to the furniture. It’s amazing, Matthew. And the chandelier… God, the chandelier. It’s completely made out of glass with little candle holders, and the glass is engraved with all these native Chinese paintings. The same ones are on the porcelain, but it looks different on each one because it was hand-made. The engravings are so precise, I wonder which artist made the chandelier. I would love to have a chat with them about their amazing art.”

“Sounds wonderful,” though as Matt said that, his focus was on something other than the restaurant. He listened to her heartbeat and the excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, and the mental picture of her eyes sparkling with the yellow of the fairy lights. 

She was beautiful. 

“What if I told you that I simply asked you so that I could hear your voice?��

She frowned at him, subconsciously toying with her necklace. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know what it looks like in here. I saw it, a long time ago,” he said. “My father… He took me here for my birthday every year since I turned seven. The accident happened about two months after my ninth birthday, so I remember vividly what the interior looks like, even though it’s been years.”

“Oh, Matthew, I’m so sorry.”

“The owner and I are acquainted with each other. I help her out every once in a while. After my father died, I didn’t feel very comfortable taking anyone back here, you know?” Matt paused to chuckle, a bitter sound in the light-hearted atmosphere of the room. He cut right through it, tearing her heart in two with the pain that displayed on his face even without seeing his eyes behind the glasses.

Eliza took his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to tell him that she was there for him. She cursed herself for not connecting the dots sooner. He took her to the place he connected his childhood with to make her feel more comfortable. It was the most selfless thing anyone could have possibly done for her.

“I came here often, but always on my own. I don’t like to be asked how I know this place or the pitiful glances I get whenever I tell them the truth. The tragically blinded kid who lost his father and grew up in an orphanage because no one else wanted him. It’s… I don’t know, it’s not something you like to tell people, I guess, so I used this place to find some peace amongst all the noise and the smell. Almost like the flower shop that sells those Anemone bouquets, except that here, the world doesn’t exist. It’s my little bubble of safety, and it used to be my and my dad’s little key to happiness. It was our secret hideout.”

“If I had known, Matt,” she said, “I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”

He placed a finger on her lips. “I wanted to take you here,” he said, “because it was the first place I thought of when I could tell you were uncomfortable and I think… you’re the first person I’ve ever taken here since my dad died and somehow it doesn’t even bother me. It feels normal, like you belong here too, not just me. My world opened up and let you in and you’re a part of it now, so you’re a part of everything inside of that world too. I love you, Eliza, and I want you to be a part of my life, all of it, not just the broken parts.”

“I love you too.” She took his hand, pressing a kiss to each fingertip, the gentlest of promises whispered without using actual words to voice what she meant, and he understood. 

Matt cradled her cheek and guided her to kiss him, slow, sensual and passionate, a loving kiss shared between two people who had been without hope for so long and finally found their forever home in the aftermath of destruction. Their lives fell apart, but they got back on their feet and crawled back to each other. Broken and bruised they opened their arms and finally came home. They survived the war, they survived the worst of the worst, and now it was just them against the world - because if you survive what these two went through, there is nothing you can’t conquer with the person you love. 

He breathed her in like the air around them. “Let’s get the bill,” he said. 

Her eagerness barely surprised him. She nodded, “Okay.”

Matt tipped generously, using what little money he had left in his pocket to pay his thanks to the chef. He waved goodbye to Mrs. Chao and then they stepped outside again, the polluted New York air hitting them like a brick after spending so much time in one of the cleanest places in the city. 

A car honked, the motor howling as the exhaust spurted into the air. They shared a look. Eliza snorted, starting to laugh, and he soon joined in. 

Ice cream was on his schedule next. He promised to spoil her and he made true to that promise. He got a vanilla cone while she got chocolate and hand in hand the couple made their way down the darkened street of one of Hell’s Kitchen’s few parks. Only the faint buzzing of the street lights above them told him that they weren’t entirely lulled in darkness. 

“I love New York,” she said upon seeing the faintest outline of a star in the night sky. “No matter how dirty it is, the city owns my heart. And sometimes, if you look closely enough, you can see the world beyond it.”

He hummed in approval, switching her cone for his momentarily to taste and she did the same with his. It didn’t taste artificial like most vanilla flavors. She took another lick, enjoying how the cold felt on her heated tongue. 

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Do you want it?” he asked. 

“What?” she blinked innocently. “Oh, no. This is your ice cream. I wouldn’t want to…”

Of course, she wanted it. If she had known beforehand, she would have chosen vanilla too, not chocolate. 

He smiled. “Take it.”

“Thank you.”

She was so eager, the entire thing was gone in a matter of two minutes. He could only chuckle when she wiped her mouth with a tissue and moaned, “God, that was so good!”

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart.”

“Are you kidding me? This was amazing. Not just the ice cream,” she clarified, “But the entire night. It was perfect, Matt.” She stopped, pressing her lips to his stubbled cheek. “Thank you, so much.”

He slurped up what was left of the chocolate ice cream before discarding the cone into the trash. Tonight, he couldn’t stand the crunching. 

Taking her hand, he pulled her down the street with him. “We’re not done yet,” he said. 

“Wait, what? OH!” She squealed. 

Not the sprinklers.

It was that time of night when the remote sprinkler systems started wetting the grass to keep it nice and wet over the hot summer night. They turned on just as they started to walk by. Eliza tried to fight back, but Matt already had her pulled under the stream. She squealed again, louder this time, the cold water soaking her dress almost instantly, and her hair already started to stick to her forehead. Not to speak of the makeup running down her face. 

“You are an awful person!” But she laughed anyway. 

Another sprinkler turned on right next to her and aimed straight at her face. She ducked, running into Matt who simply pulled her into him.

“Look at us!” she said. “We’re getting soaked.”

“You said you don’t mind the rain with me,” he said. 

“Sprinklers don’t count as rain!”

“In my book, they do.”

“What kind of book are you reading? ‘Cause, we’re definitely not sharing the same one.”

He wiped his wet face underneath the glasses he somehow still hadn’t taken off. With a scoff, she pulled them off his face. He shook his hair out of his face, using the newfound freedom to clean his lashes off the excess water. It was of no use, the sprinklers just kept raining down on them. 

Once so ready to flee, Eliza kept her hands on his upper arms, staring into his endless brown eyes. The love and adoration she had for him were suffocating but in the best way possible. 

Matt’s lips found hers as if she had been lost his entire life and he finally found her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the sheer eternal connection. 

The lights along the path that went through the park met the streams of artificial rain in purple shades, hulling them in a lavender haze that grew around them like a castle. The curtain kept them hidden from the world, shining down on them in the same explosion of color shades as the Billboard outside his apartment would. Though it was just lavender this time, no other color was anywhere in sight. Purple through and through, just the two of them, together.

“Dance with me,” he breathed. 

She chuckled. “But there is no music.”

“We don’t need music to dance.”

“But that’s not the definition of dancing.”

“Would you shut your mouth?” He swallowed her next sounds with his mouth. “You’re so annoying,” he said between kisses, “You’re making me furious.” 

“Doesn’t feel like you’re furious,” she said.

“Oh, I am. But I’m also very happy right now.” 

He twirled her around her axis before pulling her back in. She giggled. His hands were hot on her clammy, wet skin. The silk stuck to her body like glue. Every time he turned her, the fabric slapped against her skin. 

At the last pirouette, she pulled against him. He stumbled and tumbled into her arms. Eliza used that to her advantage and kissed him with all she had to give, standing on her tiptoes and hugging him close to her. The sprinklers were still going strong, but she tuned them out.

The sight of Matt in lavender lighting was truly a beautiful one, much more beautiful than the enchanted forest they came out of.

“You wanna go home?” she asked.

He sighed against her warm lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

They barely made it through the door before his lips were on hers. He kicked the door closed with his foot, tossed the key into the bowl next to it, and used the other hand to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer. 

Her back hit the wall, his hand sufficing as a barricade from getting injured on the bricks. She raked her nails over his chest, up to his shoulders until his suit jacket slipped off and landed on the floor. His tie followed. 

He tried hard to stay in control, but her strength outmatched him, and when she pushed him, he followed. He fell back into the couch, legs spread wide as she seated herself on his lap, resuming her kisses along his neck before moving back to his swollen lips. 

Matt grabbed her face to have at least some say about where this was going and she let him shove his tongue down her throat. She tangled her hands in his brown air, searching for something to hold onto. In return, his hands slid from her thighs to her ass, giving a gentle squeeze, and moved on to her waist where he held her closer than ever. At the same time though, he tried to stop her from grinding on him too much - this was going to end way too soon with how worked up he was if she kept moving her hips so desperately against his. 

Her lips pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks and eyes, nothing like the fiery mouth-to-mouth kisses they previously shared. Eliza tried to regain some of the oxygen she lost; he was breathing just as heavily, eyes fluttering close at the soft touches she left on him. Her hands would stay imprinted forever, he thought. He could feel her everywhere at the same time. 

The continuous movement managed to ride her dress up enough to reveal the garter belt she wore on both sides and when his hands brushed the rubber, he growled. “What color is it?” he asked. 

His finger dug into the soft flesh of her thigh and she sighed, matching the sound of his voice with a soft moan, “Red,” she said. “Burgundy.”

“And the dress?” His hands traveled under the silky skirt, tracing over the lace underwear where it nestled perfectly between her ass cheeks and upon her waist. He let the band snap against her skin. “Is it red too?” 

She jolted. “Yes.”

“You thought about this when you bought it, didn’t you?”

Instead of answering right away, Eliza guided one of his hands to the bow that kept her dress wrapped around her body. It was a gift waiting to be unpacked. He choked on nothing but air, the broken moan that bubbled up in his throat swallowed by the flush of arousal that suffocated him from how red he had gotten. 

She leaned down against his ear. “Why else would I have bought it if not for you to fuck me in it?”

The rational center of his brain shut off. His hand gripped her ass cheek firmer, pulling her up until her legs wrapped around his waist and he hoisted her up into his arms. She giggled. Matt made his way into the bedroom, almost forgetting that the armchair stood in his path. He stepped aside just in time before they would have both fallen, which made her laugh even more. 

“I get the feeling you forget that you’re blind sometimes,” she said. 

“I know where my furniture stands,” he snapped. He was way too eager to be making jokes.

She giggled again. “I doubt that applies when you think about fucking me. Oh!”

He threw her on the bed. She bounced off the mattress slightly, his lips back on hers in no time as he covered her body with his. Her leg wrapped around his hip to push him further against where she needed him most. His hand traveled under her dress again, the other stroking rather lovingly through her messy hair while he kissed her with a different intensity. The heat from before was still there, but the flame seemed tamed now. Like he wanted to spend hours kissing her, feeling her with his fingers, and painting picture after picture in his mind. There was no rush, they had all the time in the world, and he wanted to use it. 

“Matthew,” she breathed against his lips, “Do you want to undress me?”

“If you’re ready for that,” he said. 

His eyes opened to point down at her. She traced his features with her index finger. “I want this,” said Eliza. “Even though it might be a bit more complicated now, I want to try. I want you. I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past few days, wanting to feel you again. Not just in my mouth but inside of me, marking me, making me yours. I want this.”

Matt ground his teeth. “Fuck, sweetie! You are so good with your words, it’s insane.”

“Please, Matthew, help me take this dress off.”

He got up on his knees, allowing her to slip out underneath him and stand at the edge of the bed. He moved, sitting down right before her, hands on either side of her hips. She stood between his spread thighs, looking down at him with blown eyes and her lipstick smeared anywhere but her lips. He even had some stains on his white shirt, but neither of them cared enough to do something about it. 

Slowly, he pulled at the bow that held the burgundy silk together. It opened, leaving behind a small button to assure that she wouldn’t lose the dress if the belt ever failed to hold it up. He only flicked his fingers once before the fabric slipped open and off her shoulders, onto the floor. The cold air of the apartment had the hairs on her body standing up and she gasped at the feeling on her almost exposed nipples. She wanted to cross her arms over her body, suddenly so exposed and insecure about what he might think, but he left her no space to move. 

He started at her calves, feeling the smooth skin and missing hairs - which he didn’t really care about, but it felt nice nonetheless - then moved on her thighs. His fingers traced the garter belt that was attached to her underwear, playing with the rubber a few times before he continued to the pair of lace panties she hid under her dress all this time. He kissed her stomach, licking a long stripe over the scar she was so insecure about, kissing over her naval some more. 

She gasped, holding onto his hair. He played with her nerves one by one, surely driving her insane. A firm slap against her ass made her cry out, bucking her hips and therefore her stomach further into his mouth. He grunted greedily, sucking at her hip bone until he felt the blood pool under his tongue. 

Her hand flew his shoulder in an instant when he dipped his head between her legs and pressed a firm kiss to her covered cunt. The hand that was already tangled in his hair held on tighter. He licked over the silk covering her crotch, tasting her without even trying, and moaned against her clit. 

“Fuck.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that again,” he said. 

“But you haven’t even-” she had to pause to let out a soft moan, his lips attacking her core with newfound enthusiasm, making out with her folds, and the fabric between him and the most sensitive part of her managed to produce enough friction to make her feel the shocks of electricity in her lower stomach. The sensation was much weaker than before, but he knew what he was doing, and with every kiss to her clit, the scent of her arousal became clearer. “Fuck, you haven’t even touched the rest of me,” she finished her sentence. 

Matt hesitantly pulled away, attempting to look up at her through hooded eyes and full, black lashes. “I’m trying to pay some much-needed attention to my girl, would you let me do that?” His lips ghosted over the waistband of the panties. “Someone’s been a bit neglected in the past couple of days. I have to make up for that.”

He cupped her pussy.

With someone he didn’t just mean her, he meant what was sitting between her legs.

“Man, she must be aching to be touched.”

She was. Eliza was, and the rest of her too. She needed to be set on fire by his touch. It was necessary for her to feel human again. She wished she could make him see this, see her again, but she would only ruin things.

She almost completely lost it when his hands finally reached her aching nipples, the lace of the bra barely covering her breasts. The fabric was see-through, the band made out of red silk, and on top of the cups, two bows held the straps together. He wasted no time tugging at her nipples through the thin layer of silk, pulling her toward him before squeezing both breasts hard between his calloused hands. She chose the right fabric, indeed. 

“Fuck, you’re being so good to me,” Matt murmured into the skin of her abdomen, “and I’ve been nothing but selfish. Having you suck my dick almost every day, but I’ve never even touched you the way you deserve. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

Eliza pushed at his forehead to bring him back, staring into his eyes with a look of bewilderment in her own. “Matthew, that’s not true,” she said. 

“Yes, it is. I have to change that.” Reaching behind her, he searched for the bra clasp. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded.”

The piece of lingerie snapped open. She gasped at how easy he made it look. The bra fell off her shoulders and he discarded it into a random corner of the room. 

“As much as I like what you got for me, it’s in the way.”

And with that, the panties were detached from the garter belt as well and fell to the floor in soundless excitement.

“And you’re keeping that one.” He snapped the rubber again. “It’s so incredibly sexy, I just want you to wear that every day, even at work so I can snap it against your skin as I bend you over my desk and fuck you like the dirty little whore you are.”

He didn’t even give her time to step out of her panties before his head returned to its previous position between her legs. 

“Oh…” Eliza gasped at the hot contact. “God, fuck!”

He lapped at the folds of her cunt, parting them with his tongue as he always did. He licked a long stripe from her entrance to the top, then back down and up again until he finally reached her clit and wrapped his lips around the nerve endings. He sucked the bundle into his mouth, kissing and nibbling until it was swollen and red and she was breathless atop of him.

Keeping her upright with one arm around her hips, he kneaded at her upper thigh with the other. The tip of his tongue unsheathed her clit when he finally released it, drawing circles directly on the sensitive nub and she cried out again.

No matter how good it felt, her orgasm seemed worlds away. 

She bucked her hips into his mouth again. He sucked, the motion filling the room with an obscene slurping, and she realized he managed to get her wet with just a few kisses to her cunt already, but that was about it. Still, he didn’t stress, he kept doing exactly what he started with, and the repeated motion and attention to detail of his tongue had her legs shaking soon enough. The immense pleasure he pulled out of her made her wish she could be lying down instead. But perhaps he knew something that she didn’t about this particular position. She certainly didn’t know much about sex. She couldn’t judge.

Eliza cursed herself for thinking too much. “This might take a while,” she said. 

He chuckled, the vibrations sending a thrill down her spine. “And what’s so bad about that?” he asked. 

“I want to… fuck, I want to cum, but I can’t.”

“That’s okay.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t know if I can… If I can ever…”

“Yet.” 

His mouth was gone, suddenly, and then his back laid flat against the mattress, pulling her with him until her legs were on either side of his head and his hands rested on her ass fully. He gave the cheeks a gentle squeeze, feeling how her flesh jiggled with his ruthless grip.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, his breath hot against her wetness. “You’re going to show me exactly what it takes to make you cum and if I have to lie here for hours, I will gladly keep licking at your pussy until you do.”

She blushed so deeply, her cheeks resembled the red of her discarded dress. “Matthew,” she whined, “I can’t.”

He tugged at the garter belt. So that was why he wanted her to wear it. He wanted to have something to pull her like a dog on a leash.

Fuck. This shouldn’t have turned her on the way it did.

“This is the only way you can control what you need,” he explained. “The only position that allows you to experiment with your movements in a way that will make sure you cum first. I’m not stopping before that, even if the overstimulation kills me.”

He tugged at the rubber again. She moaned. “Matthew, I don’t know,” her voice bordered on a pathetic cry. “I don’t know if I can,” she said.

“You did it before, do it again. Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

“No, I don’t want you to… it’s uncomfortable.”

“For you?”

“No, for you.”

Matt’s chest rumbled as he laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m anything but uncomfortable, now stop fucking hovering and sit down.” He smacked her ass. She didn’t comply. “You’re not sitting,” he stated. 

“Isn’t that enough?” she asked, her voice quiet and throat tight from the pure embarrassment that came from the position. 

“If I have to move even just an inch to wrap my lips around your clit, you’re not sitting, you’re just kneeling over my head. Now stop being a brat,” he said, pulling her down on his lips with one harsh tug of her garter belt, “And make yourself cum on my tongue like the good girl I know you are. Use me.”

She kept herself steady with a hand in his hair, the only clinging onto the silk sheets for dear life as his tongue went to work and, even though she was more than shy about the whole thing, she started to move in time with his thrusts until his kisses met her cunt at the right angle.

“Right there?” he asked before she could say it.

With her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded. Her chest and cheeks already flushed hot red from the need coursing through her veins. He was in her blood stream now, so close yet so far away.

She ground her hips harder, feeling all of him. Eliza played with the intensity of her thrusts a little while Matt simply stayed there, body unmoving and doing the same motion with his tongue over and over again while she fucked herself on his face. His nose caught against her clit and she gasped again, losing all control over her limbs. 

He caught her thighs, helping her resume her movements in the same spot.

“More,” she choked out. “I need more.”

He nodded. “What exactly?”

“Just…”

He started to paint a precise picture over her clit, spelling his and her name before shoving his tongue into her hole. She twitched. 

“That! God, yes! Fuck, that’s it.”

She chased the high that started to settle into her bones with the eagerness of a mad woman. She could feel it, resting right where his nose and tongue worked wonders over her slick cunt, and her lower stomach got tied in all kinds of shapes, an explosion waiting to happen. She reached for her breasts, squeezing her sensitive nipples. 

His moan reverberated against her clit and he replaced her hand with both of his, rolling the sensitive nubs between his fingers the same way he started to suck on her clit, hearing the wetness of her walls as she clenched around nothing, her movements getting sloppier and more desperate, and he tugged a little harsher at her nipples. 

She forced his face closer by the hair. “Fuck, Matthew,” she moaned his name like a mantra.

How was he so good at that?

He groaned again when she pulled at his hair, his scalp burning from the harsh assault, but the pain shot right to his aching cock in his dress pants. His hips lifted, finding no relief, but the sounds she was making and the taste of her juices exploding on his tongue might as well just have been a hand stroking up and down his shaft. 

With another broken cry of his name, her legs locked around his head and he caught her by the throat before she could dive off the bed. Matt eagerly sucked at her pussy until she was quivering, the entirety of her juices landing in his mouth and he drank up everything she had to give. 

The wave crashed in hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She forgot how good it felt to be the one to receive the pleasure, how it felt to cum in his mouth and be completely at his mercy. She forgot how good it felt to be so turned on, her body was in full control of her actions. The high was unlike anything she could feel with a recreational substance. 

She breathed deeply, walls spasming and her legs shaking.

More, her head screamed.

“Can I-“ she swallowed hard. His eyes fluttered open, a questioning look on his face while he lazily kept licking at her folds. “I want to go for another one,” she admitted quietly.

He grunted. “Please do,” he said.

If she kept this up, he would cum too and it was all he needed.

Her hips started to resume her movements, sloppier and weaker this time. He used the garter belts to move her in the way she showed him before.

“Fuck!” She quivered completely against him, his tongue merciless as it licked and thrust, wringing moan after moan from her chest.

At this point, she didn’t care, she rode his face at an intensity and speed, his beard was sure to leave a bloody burn on the inside of her thighs. But fuck did she need it. She had needed this for so long and finally having it, finally being able to cum after such a long time was heaven on earth. And at his hands she would gladly do it all over again.

She threw her entire body back, hands now resting on his thighs. He had planted his feet up on the mattress, allowing her more leverage. One hand searched for his belt, undoing it and reaching for his aching cock.

“No,” he moaned against her cunt, “Later.” The words came choked up and needy.

She whined, wanting to feel him come apart in her hands, but she was barely present. The orgasm built and built and built until it eventually set her world on fire the same way his vision burned.

“Matt, I’m…”

He squeezed her breast with one hand, the other rubbing her clit as he fucked her with his tongue.

“Uh-huh,” his voice vibrated through her inner walls.

Her legs locked around his head. The orgasm was more intense, more progressed than the first and she moaned so loud, her voice bounced off the walls and she was sure the nice lady next door fell out of her bed at the way she let out Matt’s name.

The entire building must have heard them by now and the thought turned her on so much, she came even harder, thighs locked around his head and hips bucking desperately and wildly as he helped her get down from her high.

Her lungs opened and Eliza could finally breathe again, still holding onto his hair. “Thank you,” she said.

The relief was short-lived.

Matt didn’t plan on stopping at two. She had asked for them, now it was his turn to ask for one of her orgasms, and if she didn’t say yes, he would take it anyway. She tried to pull her hips away, but in the wake of her orgasm, she was weaker than him. 

He flipped her onto her back, forcing her legs back into the mattress, and went back to sucking at her abused cunt with a low growl. Her back arched into him. “Matthew, please,” she whimpered, legs tightening around his head. He forced them apart, pushing them so deep into the mattress, it felt as if he split her in two. “I came,” she told him, “I promise! I can’t… God, fuck!”

“I know you did,” he said. “But I want you to give me another one. I want you to cum as hard as you can.”

She moved back on the mattress, trying to evade his stupidly skilled mouth, but he found his way back. He simply followed where she went. Keeping her legs spread like a fucking pro, she lost herself in the abyss of ecstasy, feeling the pressure building up inside of her like a crescendo. Whenever he sucked again, heat spread through her entire being. He alternated between thrusting his tongue inside of her and kissing at her folds, doing exactly what she showed him that she needed when she sat on his face.

She arched her back, lurched forward, then fell back into the sheets again. She wasn’t sure what to hold on to, but his hair wasn’t it. She managed to find a pillow somewhere, digging her nails into the silk and pulling at it so hard, she could feel it tear under her fingers. 

Soon enough, he plunged two fingers inside her tight walls. Her lips parted in a silent scream. The world around her exploded into stars and pits of endless fire. She saw white and black at the same time, pussy clenching around his fingers and gripping him like a vice. 

This was… different. As he kept massaging her g-spot and applying pressure to her clit every so often, the feeling that started to bubble up inside her was new. The pressure that spread through her lower half and even set her nipples on fire as she squeezed one of them in her hands was so intense, she felt as if she was a hand grenade about to explode in his hand.

“Think you can take another one?” he asked. 

She must have made a sound of approval. Her walls stretched with a delicious burn as he inserted a third finger into her pussy.

“God, yes!” She met his thrusts. “Yes, fuck, yes! Right there.”

“Here?” Matt’s eyes fluttered innocently as he curled all three of his fingers upwards. 

She squealed. “Yes!”

His thumb joined his tongue on his journey to stimulate every last nerve that sat in her clit, pulling the highest amount of pleasure out of her that was humanly possible. 

The blood rushed in her ears, her throat dried up and unable to make sounds with how deep he was, how good his mouth felt, and the sounds he made spurred the intense stone on to roll down the hill and crash into her with full force.

“Matthew, what are you doing to me?” She was crying, sobbing even, and her body convulsed with each perfect thrust of his fingers.

“Making you cum,” he stated.

He flicked her clit from side to side with his tongue, enveloping it with his lips again and making out with her cunt agonizingly slowly. He didn’t answer, he just continued at the same pace with the same intensity he started with. He didn’t rush, he played her like the keys of a keyboard, waiting for the notes to turn into a melody. Her voice already sounded like the cacophony of an angel’s choir. All he needed was the music to add to it. He wanted her screams. He wanted the sound of his name to be the only lyrics she would ever memorize, and for her to only respond to the touch of his fingers, no one else’s. 

Matt suspected she could do it if he took his time and tried hard enough, pushed the right buttons, and kept her on the edge for long enough, but he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to test his theory as soon as possible, and judging by how badly she was trying to steer off the almost painful pressure that had her clenching around him so hard, he thought his fingers would break, he almost had her right where he wanted her. 

“Are you getting close?” he rasped. “Are you gonna cum for me soon?”

She nodded feverishly, a tear making its way down her perky breasts and onto his mouth. He moaned at the taste. 

“Yes,” she choked out.

He lapped at where his fingers kept disappearing inside of her. “Don’t,” he told her. 

“What?”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Give me a minute.”

A minute was an overstatement, but her whine was sweet enough for him to consider edging her for longer. 

“No,” her tears multiplied with every thrust of his fingers, “Please, I need to… let me cum, please. I’m begging you! I can’t hold it. Matthew, fuck!” 

He dared to slightly bite down on her clit, not enough to seriously hurt her, but the pain instantly added to the pressure that was already hard enough to keep from bursting at the seams.

“Wait for it,” he instructed. 

The weight of the orgasm resting in her lower stomach grew to a painful extent and she was sure she would explode any second now, even without permission. Her hand found his hair, trying to push him away, but he stayed right between her legs, eating her out to get his fill, and he would get it soon enough. 

“Stop, please.”

It wasn’t their safeword, although he considered asking her if she wanted to stop. 

“God, fuck! You’re gonna make me… I can’t.”

Her words made no sense and he chuckled again, feeling the desperation seep out of her pores. Perhaps he wasn’t just a masochist but a sadist as well. 

“Oh, you can,” he purred.

“No, I really can’t. Fuck!” She cried again. She was best at that. “Don’t stop,” she couldn’t help herself. It hurt but was so damn good at the same time. “Don’t fucking- oh, no.”

He chuckled again. “Oh, yes. You’re doing so well, baby. Just a little more.” He sucked her clit between his teeth and released it again, his fingers curling one last time before he pulled them out, “Do me a favor and cum, now.”

Eliza slapped the pillow against her face because she was sure if she didn’t, she would scream. What was about to happen felt embarrassing enough. 

She had read about it before and she knew that the female body was capable of so many things, especially when it came to sex, but she never thought she would be one of those women. She never thought she could be so stimulated and turned on to the point her orgasm would tear her body apart, shake her world and exorcize her soul so that all her body could do was release all the pent-up stress she had by releasing an obscene amount of wetness while her cunt clenched around pure pleasure for dear life. 

She was sure she passed out for a moment there, her muscles locking up with the explosion of dopamine and oxytocin, and her eyes rolled back to the point she could have sworn she saw her brain being tossed into the mixer, shredded into pieces at full speed. 

His head got caught between her thighs as they shut around him, but instead of pulling away, he dove in to catch all she gave him. He swallowed every last drop as if he hadn’t eaten or drunk in months. 

His thumb kept rubbing her pulsating clit gently until her lungs filled with air again and she regained consciousness. The pillow slipped from her hands and back onto the bed. Her chest heaved. She must have looked so pretty in the luminescence of the Billboard.

His forehead leaned against her mound, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal and listening to the wetness trickle out of her cunt with every twitch of her inner walls. Every muscle in her body was riddled with heavy aftershocks, but the soft caress he left along her thighs and hips eventually eased the wave and brought awareness back to her body. 

She swallowed. The mess between her legs was more than palpable. 

“Damn,” Matt murmured with a chuckle that bordered on proud and cheeky, “I knew it.”

“Oh, God,” Eliza gnawed on her bottom lip, her voice hoarse and higher than usual. 

“God isn’t here tonight, sweetheart, but I know that this must have been a heavenly experience.”

“Did I… I just… fuck, Matthew!”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” He pressed a kiss to the hickey he had left on her hip bone. “And it was so good, I’ll probably smell and taste you for weeks now.”

“What about the sheets?” she wondered. “Fuck.” The blush crept back to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-”

He was back up and hovering over her in seconds, shushing her with his lips on hers. “Don’t apologize,” he said. 

“No, I am.” Eliza disappeared into a ball of shame behind her hands. She tried to close her legs to get rid of the cold, sticky feeling that had her shivering, but his large figure between her thighs made it impossible to move further than his hips. 

“Did it feel good?”

She nodded. 

“Then why the fuck would you apologize?”

The lower part of his face glistened wetly in the soft purple light that came in through the bedroom window. It was ironic to see him enveloped in the same shade they had just danced in, though this time it wasn’t the sprinklers that had him all wet, it was her. Peaking through her fingers, she looked at him. He had never looked happier with his hair disheveled, lips swollen, cheeks red, and face covered in her cum. And he had also never looked better. He smirked, feeling her gaze on him, and the wave of arousal that hit his nose was a new one.

Her eyes slipped lower, hovering over his crotch. The black of his dress pants was damp where his cock rested, only half-hard now and less aching. She reached for him and he dropped his head in the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath. The rough fabric mixed with the sound of her moans and the taste of her all over his tongue had been enough to make him come apart in seconds. She hadn’t even finished before he did, but he got her there in the end.

“That was enough for you?” she asked him. Her fingers met the tip of his clothed cock, playing with the cum that had soaked into his pants. Sucking her now glistening thumb between her lips, she sighed at the familiar taste. 

He answered without a word, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. Her hands grew desperate again. She fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and his belt buckle, but they wouldn’t open. 

Only one flick of his fingers and the leather of his belt loosened. “Easy tiger,” he mused. She pulled it out with the most adorable pout, joining her bra on the floor. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”

She pulled at his hair, beyond frustrated. “Shut up and get naked!”

“Alright, if you insist.”

Matt rolled off of her, standing in all his glory at the foot of the bed. She sat up on her elbows, watching him undress slowly enough she could tell he did it on purpose. But God, did she enjoy the show. 

He stepped out of his pants first, discarding them with the rest of their clothing, followed by his shoes. he was left in his boxers and sweat-stained dress shirt. She bit her lip. He didn’t move for a good thirty seconds and she wondered if he changed his mind. Just as she was about to open the buttons for him, cunt aching with the need for his cock, he tore the shirt open with his bare hands and absolutely no regard for his shirt. 

Her breath got caught in her throat. The scars that adorned his chest shone almost silver in the purple atmosphere that filled the room, reflecting off his eyes and his teeth, making him seem like a fairy, almost. He was an angel, something only to be found in fairytales - he was a rarity, something not many could have, but she did. Eliza had him and the show he put on was for her alone. Only she was allowed to see him at his most vulnerable and touch him so sensually. 

At that moment, he could have done anything to her and she would have followed. He owned her. 

“Fuck me,” she growled. “Tear your clothes off more often, I dare you.”

Matt snorted. “I wouldn’t have anything left to wear,” he said.

“Exactly.”

She sat up on her knees, the bed creaking under her weight. He grabbed her face softly and pulled her lips against his. She moaned into the kiss. His hands stroked over the scars on her back as she traced the ones on his. It was almost innocent, the way they touched each other. 

Her hands disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down, too. He was naked now, just like her, and she could only stare in awe at the fully hard size of his length. 

“Fuck,” she growled in the back of her throat, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Says you,” he replied, kissing her again, pouring his entire soul into the way he held her against him, heartbeats soon beating in the same rhythm and bodies yearning for each other.

She kissed the weeping tip of his cock, licking a long stripe up the base of him. His hand tangled in her hair and he sighed, the feeling all too familiar. But this wasn’t his plan for tonight.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he told her. “Tonight is about you.”

“But,” she began.

“No, I mean it. No blowjobs today.”

She pouted and it was truly adorable.

Matt pushed her onto her back, slotting himself between her thighs again. His cock rested against her stomach as he continued making out with her, not rushing anything, just feeling her up and down with his mouth and hands alone.

Finally, after what felt like a billion light years, he grabbed her leg to hook it around his waist. 

“Lift your hips for me, my love,” he said.

He slid a pillow under her lower back, positioned the head of his cock against her entrance, and then leaned down to her again, pressing his nose tightly against hers. 

She pulled him down, breaking the distance. As her lips collided with him, he thrust forward and buried his cock inside of her to the hilt in just one swift motion. Her mouth dropped open, passing the softest moan, and he forced his tongue into her mouth in the process, exploring the warmth that consumed her in more ways than one. 

He didn’t move, he stayed for a moment, reveling in his right she was around him. Every time he was inside of her, she hugged him just right. It was a feeling he could never tire of. His cock felt at home buried between her folds, swallowed and claimed by her every time he fucked her, able to pull orgasm after orgasm out of that beautiful person and render her mindless. Her pleasure belonged to him, as did she. The necklace around her neck proved it. He hadn’t bought it because he owned her but because he knew her better than anyone and loved her more than anything and he knew that she had an Affiliation for such small gifts with a lot of thought behind them.

But he also bought it because he, indeed, owned her and everyone could know that. The same way they would see the hickeys and know she was taken. 

“Matthew,” she moaned his name right into his ear, sending his already hypnotized senses into overdrive. “Look at me,” she said. “And fuck me, please. I need you. I need you to move.”

His hand fisted the sheets above her head. His reserves crumbled. He grabbed the leg that he had thrown over his hip and held it close against him as he started to thrust his cock into the tight confines of her pussy. What started as slow strokes soon enough turned into vigorous movements of his pelvis as he drove home into her most sensitive spot, tickling all the sweet, lewd sounds out of her. They spilled from her lips like wine and he drank them up, sucking them into his mouth and stealing her breath away.

His thrusts came hard and deep. Her heart echoed in his ears. He focused on how she clenched around him, how her nails raked down his back and were sure to draw blood. She bit into his shoulder to keep herself from screaming and he grunted, changing the angle so that he could hit even deeper and feel even more of her, her leg now almost over his shoulder, the other flat against the mattress.

“God,” her head thrashed wildly as she clenched down on him, “You feel so fucking good. Fuck!”

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to drown in her, become one and never wake up again. 

In her delirious state, the words she uttered and the sounds she made were senseless. “More,” she breathed. “Feels so good. Please, Matthew. Harder.”

“Yeah?” He stroked her hair back. “You feel so fucking good too. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.”

She looked into his eyes when she moaned this time, he could feel the full extent of her pleasure coursing through his veins at the same speed. 

“Is that what you want, baby? For me to fuck you until your legs are shaking and you’re ruined with my cum buried deep inside you?”

“Yes!” She met his thrust. “Fuck, yes! Please.”

Matt kissed her, deep and passionately. “You were made for me.”

Her legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his ass, and one of her hands joined to claw at the cheek. 

But she was still not close enough.

“Turn around,” he said. “Need to be deeper. Need you to take my cock deeper like a good girl. Need you to swallow me whole, baby.”

She whined at the loss of him, but followed his instructions nonetheless. He repositioned the pillow so it rested under her stomach now, tilting her hips enough to make her comfortable and for him to dive as deep as he humanly could. He sank back into her smoothly, her walls tighter now, and she could feel every vein of his cock the same way he could feel the exact texture of the velvety walls of her pussy clenching around him. 

“That’s it. Fuck! You’re so tight.“

The sound she let out bordered on a gurgled scream, one hand reaching behind her to cradle his head. He buried his nose in her neck with every thrust, holding her hips in place by locking an arm around her. That way, he could even press down on her lower stomach, and that was enough to finally get the scream of his name to fill the bedroom. 

He reveled in the sound of the echo, the clear arousal, desperation, and mindlessness of her voice, and the way she said his name. The volume was rather tame for a scream, but the octave was high and uncontrolled. Her hips rocked back into him and he hit her g-spot just right every time he brought his hips forward to plunge his cock completely into her again.

There would be blood on him the next day from how hard she scratched him, but he got off on the pain. He wanted her to dig harder, if that was even possible, pull just a little more on the strands of his hair and bite down on his forearm. 

He sunk his teeth into her shoulder. She keened, cunt clenching around his cock as the wave of her orgasm became this close to crashing in on her.

“Matthew, please,” her voice was raspy, “I’m so close.”

“I know,” he said. “I know, baby, me too. You just gotta hold on a little more, yeah?”

“Fuck!”

“Can you be a good girl for me and wait until I tell you to cum?”

Thrashing her head around, she still managed to nod. “Yes.”

Anything for him.

The straight position started to grow uncomfortable, so she tried to angle her leg a bit further up. Matt caught her. For a second, she feared he might punish her for trying to change position, but instead of scolding her, he helped her bend her knee enough so she could have some leverage and he held her that way with each of his thrusts, using the newfound space to circle his fingers around her aching clit. Eliza shivered, goosebumps following where his lips brushed her neck and her nipples kept rubbing against the silk sheets.

He could feel his cock disappearing inside of her while he rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves. He felt how perfectly he fit and right where he split her open. 

The temptation was stronger than his common sense. 

She bit down on his arm when he decided to plunge a finger into her tight, already abused hole at the same time his cock stretched her out. She was full beyond anything she had deemed possible before. He was everywhere and there was no space for her to move. She could clench, but there was no way she could get any tighter than that, and the wetness only did so much to keep the burning at bay. 

The added size made her cry out, though instead of causing indescribable pain, it turned her on even more. The orgasm knocked on her door, ready to crash in. 

She gasped, “Please, Matthew, can I- fuck! Can I cum?” she asked. “I’m so close, please.”

He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this going, so he nodded breathlessly, giving her permission to, “Let go for me.” And with the way he kept thrusting into her with both his cock and one of his fingers, his thumb still rubbing her clit and his moans filling her ears like the most beautiful symphony, she came fast and screaming for him, face smushed into the pillows and body shaking.

Matt’s finger slipped from her cunt. He grabbed at her ass, pulling her against him. The flesh jiggled and he couldn’t help but bring his palm down on the tender flesh. Again, again, again, and again. The sounds she made bordered on broken sobs. Her nipples rubbed against the silk sheets as his thrusts grew more vigorous, and the stimulation to the sensitive nubs on her chest had her clenching around him again in no time. 

She reached back to grab his ass, holding him so deep inside of her, his tip rested against her cervix. “God, Matt, fuck!” He had her in a metaphorical chokehold, her body only responding to the pleasure he gave her and it was enough to have her bordering on the edge of climax.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said. “Cum again for me.” He forcefully pulled her hips flush against his, cock resting at the right angle that it pushed all the way down on her g-spot and she came again with a loud cry of his name and her legs shaking harder than the world she was in. 

His thrusts grew sloppy, and he followed only shortly behind with his release. With his hips glued to hers, his cock twitched and he came, cum spurting into her pussy, and he stayed right where he was, wanting to feel every last convulsion of her walls around him.

He panted heavily into her ear, “Good job,” he said. “You took me so well. All of me. I’m so proud of you, baby. I love you so much.”

When he pulled out, he could hear his cum dripping out of her hole, down her clit, and her thighs. She jolted against the cold air. He stroked over her ass cheeks again, collecting his cum and shoving it back inside of her.

“Don’t want to waste anything,” he told her.

She whimpered, though she let him overstimulate her and stuff her to the brim with his seed. Only like this could she feel complete. It was obscene and sinful but God, she loved walking around with his cum as a sign of being marked more than anything. A dirty fantasy she carried around with her all hours of the day. She needed him so badly, no matter where she was or what she did. It was almost as if she was addicted to him and all the acts of service he could provide in and out of the bedroom.

Her cunt spasmed, his cum leaking again. He sighed at the sound and the scent of them both mixed into a cocktail.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste us together.”

His tongue swiped over her lower back first, then her ass cheeks.

“Can I just…” He stopped just above her folds. “Give me another one,” it wasn’t a question anymore. “Just one more, sweetheart. One more orgasm and we’re done. I just want to taste you so badly.”

That he wasn’t completely exhausted yet surprised her, but that man was known for his high stamina and pain tolerance. Overstimulation was nothing new to him and he seemingly enjoyed eating her pussy until she was shaking.

She was useless, she couldn’t fight back, not even when his tongue met her folds. He licked a long stripe over where the aftermath of their orgasms mixed. The taste was phenomenal. He shoved his tongue inside of her, hazy and high. She had a safe word, but she enjoyed this as much as he did, so she let it happen.

She met the feverish thrusts of his tongue, keeping her thighs spread with his veiny hands. He fucked her deliciously, her clit brushing the pillow underneath with every gentle smack to her ass. 

It wasn’t long before the knot of pleasure tightened in a painful twist, her cunt pulsating with the release and her muscles too weak to wait for him to tell her.

“Matt-“

“I know.”

She came on his tongue for the third time that night, coating his face in both her arousal and what was left of his cum, which he hadn’t lapped up yet. He took it eagerly, cleaning her up with desperate moans and whimpers, grunting every so often when his tongue picked up traces of her sweat and tears in the mix.

One last smack and he was gone, finally yet, unfortunately. She panted into the sheets, gone into a world where time and space didn’t exist. She was just floating around in gray matter. 

A large hand stroked up her heated back until it reached her neck, gently brushing the hair away before Matt kissed her shoulders. He worked on the tense muscles, using his fingers for something other than pleasure this time as he tried to coax her back to life.

The rubber of the garter belts he left on started to burn. She lifted her hips. “Matty, take them off,” she whispered. “Get them off, please.”

He nodded, slipping them down her legs and off. “There you go. I’m sorry,” he returned to whispering gentle praises into her ear, “You did so well for me.”

She relaxed slowly. The thudding of her heart in her ears moved into the distance and the earth came to a halt. She stopped spinning around her axis, the air in her lungs returning to where it was supposed to be. While her limbs kept shaking and her clit pulsated with every breath she took, she slowly started to come back to herself, and the haze of pleasure turned more into a state of relief than submission. 

After a while, she turned her head to the other side. Matt lay on his side, finger carding through her hair absentmindedly. The glaze over his eyes told her all she needed to know. He was just as done and thoroughly fucked out as she was. The silence managed to slow their heart rates back to a healthy speed. 

He smiled when he felt her eyes on him and she smiled back, tired but alright. “Hi,” she murmured. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing this.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. He told her once before she didn’t have to thank him for doing nice things or even having sex with her, to begin with, but she told him she wouldn’t stop, so he had to accept it. 

She would eventually start accepting this as a regular occasion and orgasms would no longer feel like a rarity she had to thank him for but rather like something she had every right to. 

Rubbing his thumb over the bridge of her nose, the one button he could press to instantly calm her down, Matt asked, “Do you need anything?”

But Eliza only shook her head. “Just stay with me like this,” she said. 

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And then I need a shower.”

She smacked her lips. 

“How about I get you some water first?” he suggested. “And then we can rest for a bit.”

The bottle next to the bed was empty, he had to get up to get a new one. 

She gave him an incredulous look but gave in eventually when her throat started to hurt from the dehydration. She nodded, letting go of his arm so he could move into the kitchen and retrieve two fresh bottles from the fridge. 

She took it gratefully, downing the entire thing in one gulp. 

She didn’t care that she was covered in cum, spit, tears, and smudged makeup. All she cared about was lying in his arms for a few minutes and forgetting the world existed, which it didn’t have with him around. Their sex bubble was her favorite place to be and she had missed it, even though it had been just a week. A week without sex with a man like Matt was an arduous task, especially for an addict. Eliza was down so bad, she missed having an actual sex drive to have sex with him. She hadn’t been horny and she still missed sex with him. He had that much power over her. He taught her what pleasure truly meant and she couldn’t get enough of it. 

With her back pressed to his chest and his arm around her shoulder, they lay there for a while. She played with his fingers, releasing the tension in them by cracking his knuckles. In return, he ran his hand over the knee, calf, and upper thigh that she had placed over his leg, feet planted on the mattress. He enjoyed the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips. 

The room smelled of them, of sex and love and her perfume that lingered on the dress, as well as the water from the sprinklers they had danced through. 

She loved him more than anything, and she would gladly risk getting cold again and again for a chance to be so carefree with him. And the sex was a nice way to end the night indeed. 

But it wasn’t quite over yet. Matt’s eyes fluttered open suddenly, his head tilting toward the window. Eliza looked at him, worry etched in her features. She knew that look. He had heard sometimes and continued to listen. It must be serious, she thought. He usually tried to pry himself away and focus on her, but not even the hand on her heart grounded him this time. 

She touched his bicep. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the sheets slipping from her body slightly as she sat up. 

Matt jumped out of bed, back into his boxers, and stalked toward the window. He tilted his head again, hand placed on the wall and his ear close to the shut window. She watched his eyes twitch every time he heard something new, the source of the noise finally in his reach. His knuckles turned white from how hard he grabbed onto the stonewall. 

She threw the covers off her body with a prolonged sigh, slipped into his ruined dress shirt, and walked out of the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with his suit in hand. 

Matt only returned half of his attention to her when she shoved the leather into his hand. “Go,” she said, the faintest of smiles on her face. 

And she meant it. She wasn’t mad or upset with him for wanting to choose Daredevil as if it was the primal need of a werewolf to change during a full moon. He hesitated, fighting with himself. The woman he loved was half-naked in his bed, they’d just had sex and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in her arms. 

But the city needed him. The women at the docks screaming for help before being carted away as means to make money needed him. They reminded her so much of what happened to her and the kids at the White Room, he couldn’t ignore this nagging feeling of the need to jump in and beat these disgusting creatures who took them senseless, enforce at least some justice and drop them mindless before the police station. 

Hell’s Kitchen needed Daredevil. He had to come out of hibernation, and she offered that escape to him. He didn’t have to feel guilty, she wanted him to. She wanted him to be who he needed to be because she chose him, both of them, Daredevil and Matt Murdock, the lawyer by day and vigilante by night, and the occasional devil in the sheets. 

It was Daredevil who saved her life all those weeks ago, after all.

She shook the hand that held his suit. “Go,” she repeated her previous word. “Put the suit on, Matt, and go. It’s okay,” she said. 

He made his decision. He took the leather, ignoring how much bleach it reeked, and pressed a loving kiss to her lips, holding her chin in place. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. And he added, louder this time, “I love you so much.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, nodding in the direction of the staircase to the roof. “Get your cute butt into that suit and save your city.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Right before he could leave though, she put a hand on his arm, the knowing and proud smile mixing what that of worry. She kissed him again, softly, carefully, not wanting him to break. 

“Be careful out there,” she said, “and come back to me in one piece.”

“I will,” he reassured her with a gentle tap on her nose. 

She tapped his back and retorted, “Good.”

“Get some sleep.” Pecking her lips, which proved to her that he was still hesitant to leave, he put the cowl on. The red eyes of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stared down at her and she had never felt more proud of him for overcoming his fear. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

She slapped his ass on his way up. “Okay.”

“I will note that and get you back.”

“Oh, please do.”

“Don’t start this now, sweetheart, or you won’t get any sleep tonight.”

The couch cushion she threw after him hit the door right as he closed it. His laugh rang out from the other side and she shook her head, trying to look serious, but she failed miserably. 

In the breeze of the wind, he was gone and she was left alone in his dark apartment, slightly anxious and hoping he would come back to her with all his limbs still intact. But this was Matt Murdock. If anything his father taught him it was how to take a punch, and he swore to always come back to her, no matter the circumstances, so she went to bed anyway, praying to a God she didn’t believe him to bring her devil back home to her in one piece.

And he would, in time, because Matt would always get back up when he was beaten down. Always.

[schrodingers-bisexual]

So I watched the Hazbin Hotel show and I have some thoughts…

So here are my live written thoughts/critiques of the first for eps

And before you get your pitchforks these criticisms have no malice behind them these are just my honest opinions (some good, some bad)

(Long post incoming)

Ep 1:

Plot-

* Interesting opening

* I enjoyed the reimagining of the Adam and Eve story

* they set up Charlie’s mom being MIA at the moment so that’s cool ig

* the b plot is boring, like idc about them making a commercial

* Charlie is so earnest it’s very endearing

* the angels are moving up the next extermination by 6 months which creates a sense of urgency that I enjoy (the deadline they have to meet gives me something to root for)

* Adam kinda dismissed Charlie’s hotel idea so I’m wondering if she’ll find a way to change his mind or if she’ll just do it behind his back, I’m thinking it’ll be the latter

* ohhhhh one of the demons managed to kill an angel so that’s why they moved extermination up

* I wonder when they’ll reveal who killed the angel or if they’ll even reveal it all, I’m thinking like mid-season finale type of reveal, or maybe they’ll just never say

Characters-

* Charlie is a very charming mc

* vaggie is fine ig (she doesn’t really do much)

* Alastor is just kinda there (they set up his beef with tv/modern stuff which was good)

* angeldust is annoying me ever so slightly but ig i see what they’re trying to do

* husk is my favorite so far (he’s had some pretty good one liners)

* nifty is also pretty great

* Adam is also annoying (i hate that they have him swear like a sailor when he’s supposed to be the head angel)

* i can already tell im not gonna like the characterization of the angels

* i liked Lute at first but she kinda falls into the same problems i have with Adam just a tad

Jokes-

* A lot of unfunny sex jokes from angeldust

* when nifty said something really weird husk said “Keep that to yourself, Niff.” And it got a good chuckle out of me

* a lot of unfunny dick jokes from Adam

* there was a silly gag with nifty that I enjoyed (every time they would try to get her to say her line she would stare blankly into the camera and then be “was that good?” in a cheery voice I thought it was silly

* Husk had some pretty good one-liners

* most of the jokes didn’t land for me tho

Songs-

* Happy day in hell- Erika’s voice is really good (to be expected from a broadway star), strange bridge with overlapping verses that didn’t flow well against each other and sounded kinda disconcerting (which is a shame cause overlapping verses are usually my favorite), the camera movements are giving me a headache, 5/10

* Hell is forever- I actually kinda liked that, Alex Brightman is a silly guy w/ a great singing voice, lyricism is pretty good, I enjoyed the rock-esc vibe, pretty catchy, 6/10

Overall-

It wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be but it wasn’t as good as I wanted it to be, so far I’m pretty neutral on it, the potential is definitely there but it leaves a few things to be desired, 5/10

Ep 2:

Plot-

* Hell is freaking out abt the news rightfully so I’d gather

* this seems to be a good thing cause maybe they’ll be open to the hotel idea

* it’s implied that angeldust isn’t open abt the extent of his sex work like they know he’s a porn star but that’s abt it so I’m guessing they don’t know abt his SA yet

* Val is showing some textbook manipulation signs so A for effort on that front

* the vees make for intriguing foils to the MCs

* why is Vox like obsessed with Alastor what’s the beef there

* okay so I guess there was a fight of some kind (Alastor almost beat Vox but didn’t succeed it seems like)

* revealed that Alastor has been gone for 7 years so there’s that

* okayyyy so the true beef is that Vox asked Alastor to join his team but Al said no

* Alastor is the big dog even after his absence

* vees send a spy, spy is implied to be egg guy but I think that’s a misdirect, either that or he’ll end up caring abt the MCs later (great angst material when it’s revealed he’s the spy)

* ep starts to drag a bit after we get back to the hotel

* more manipulation from Val via voicemail (is he bipolar?)

* never mind egg guy is just a regular spy and it got revealed to the MCs instantly (missed opportunity)

* THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

* istg if they blame angel for this without asking questions

* damn egg guy folded really quick, like that took nothing at all, and ofc Charlie is instantly forgiving

* so looks like egg guy is apart of the main cast now which I’m not mad at, I just wished they’d done something more with that spy plot point, like that was pointless

Characters-

* Egg guy (sir pentious) makes an appearance and he’s great

* Vox is a business mogul???

* i like Vox so far

* BRITISH?! (Velvet lol)

* the Vees are interesting

* Valentino is annoying

* I’m really enjoying the electricity motif they’re doing with Vox’s movements and voice

* I like whenever Vox glitches/buffers I think that’s a really cool animation thing

* I need Val to stop talking

* so far I’m enjoying the dynamic between the vees

* I wish they gave velvet a little more to do cause she seems like she has potential (makes you wonder if she’s sidelined because she’s the only woman amongst the vees/it’s not out of the ordinary for a vivziepop show to heavily sideline its female characters)

* angeldust is insecure after Charlie implied that he didn’t care abt the hotel which shows a little incite into his deeper character traits and reveals that he actually does care so another A for effort there

* I’m really enjoying the rivalry between Vox and Alastor

Jokes-

* “Since when do we manufacture that.” “Since thirty minutes ago.” That exchange got a smile out of me

* egg guy is really funny (not laugh out loud funny tho)

* more unfunny sex jokes from angeldust

* I chuckled when egg guy was like “you’ve left yourself an opening” and then all he ended up doing was ripping alastor’s jacket, that was silly

* I liked how during the it starts with sorry song Vaggie and Angeldust are like bro let’s kill this guy while Charlie is trying to forgive him

* were there any other jokes lmao

Songs-

* Stayed gone- Christian Borle can do no wrong, but this song kinda sucks lmao, I didn’t like that little talking with rhythm segment, like they probably wanted that part to be a rap (which would’ve been way worse), lyrics have clever word play, the beat is infectious I’ll give it that but it was kinda all over the place, 4/10

* It starts with sorry- painfully mediocre and instantly forgettable, like there’s nothing memorable or standout about this song, I’m forgetting the melody as I type this, 2/10

Overall-

It was fine, nothing too standout, the introduction of the vees was really good, I’m excited to learn more about them, but overall a pretty meh ep, 4/10

Ep 3:

Plot-

* Egg guy is adjusting about as well as you’d think (not well at all)

* he kinda reminds me of dr doofensmirtz with all his inventions

* I like that all of egg guy’s eggs are just running around

* this seems like it’s gearing up to be a boring ep

* I wish there was a little more urgency abt the six month extermination push (like I get they wanna focus more on characters rn but they could sprinkle it in a little)

* b plot is Alastor taking the eggs on a little field trip and then he runs into some guy (zestial)

* I’m guessing this was like an old friend from way back when and they’re in a part of town he used to frequent before his absence

* oh ok so this is like a demon overlord meeting (guess I wasn’t really paying attention if they said that’s where he was going)

* ok ok things are getting good

* velvet found the head of that dead angel, vees want to lead assault on heaven but zestial disagrees, he makes some good points abt the attack leading to more bad than good

* vees don’t respect council, council doesn’t like vees

* so its seeming like the vees wanna throw a wrench in the order of things and take over for themselves, that’ll probably be a main conflict later on, and I don’t think it’d be too hard for them to garner support considering all the followers/supporters of their multi-level business, I’m intrigued

* was implied that Carmilla might know more abt the decapitated angel than she’s letting on hmmm

* zestial and carmilla went off together

* secret love tryst???

* ok wait did i get which plot was the b plot wrong, or am i just more interested in alastor’s shenanigans

* like tbh whenever it cuts back to the hotel i could care less

* carmilla killed that angel but is keeping it a secret cause she knows it’ll cause war and not a lot of sinners would survive that which is admirable of her ig

* one of the eggs overhear carmilla’s secret and tells Alastor, some mischief is sure to be afoot

* the MCs are getting along better

Characters-

* Vaggie still remains kinda dull

* she’s really just there, like she acts as the “level-headed” one but doesn’t really have a personality beyond that

* that being said Vaggie and Charlie are really cute together

* Husk remains my favorite

* the eggs are silly

* Zestial is introduced (I like his design)

* so far I really like the one in charge of the demon overlord council (Carmilla)

* and I also really like zestial

* they both seem very redoubtable and deserving of respect, I enjoy that

* I knew velvet had the potential to be a compelling character, I just hope they keep her at a forefront (and I also hope she won’t get overlooked by the fandom),

* CARMILLA HAS A DAUGHTER???

* nifty is a character that I don’t know how to feel about

* finally some character development for vaggie

* SHE HAS TWO DAUGHTERS???

* Alastor is here for the chaos

* there was a nice bonding moment between vaggie and Charlie

Jokes-

* So many unfunny sex jokes from angledust

* get other jokes I’m begging you

* “oh look, frank is up there.” “We have names?” that got a smile out of me

* Alastor going “that was a productive meeting” after they literally got nothing done was silly

* husk has some good one liners

Songs-

* Respectless- oh wow, I really like this, bro how did they manage to get so many broadway singers to be in this show, it was short and sweet, didn’t overstay its welcome and I enjoyed its company, 8/10

* Whatever it takes- I really liked zestial’s voice its kinda heavenly, Carmilla also has a good voice, vaggie’s voice is also pretty, the vocals are really nice, the song itself is just okay tho, 5/10

Overall-

Better than the last ep, some interesting new characters, some development for characters I was afraid would get sidelined, I had a pretty good time, 5/10

Ep 4:

Plot-

* What is going on??? Why are they watching angeldust’s porn videos???

* oh I guess it’s show and tell day

* oop husk just dragged everyone through the mud

* more seeds of Val’s manipulation have been planted

* I think this ep is gonna be abt angeldust so I’ve gotta prepare myself for that

* okay so Charlie wants to get Angel some time off, Angel seems very terrified at the notion of Charlie meeting his boss (rightfully so)

* Charlie just fucking sets the whole porn studio on fire by accident which was really silly

* Val’s about to fuck some shit up

* oh shit he’s beating Angel up

* Angeldust’s real name is Anthony (which is also my brother’s name and that makes me a little uncomfy)

* that was an effective abuse scene very uncomfortable very impactful

* the visuals of the poison song are making me really uncomfortable which I guess is the point but idk

* okay so I’ve seen mixed opinions on how they feel abt the way the depictions of the SA in this ep were handled, and I get that they didn’t want to sugarcoat it or downplay the horrors of it but I also think that there were so many better ways they could’ve gone abt it, like you did not need to show on screen SA/rape like that was entirely unneeded, they could have alluded to it (like fading to black) and then show the emotional toll/repercussions of it and it would’ve had the same effect, if they wrote it well enough it may have even been more impactful, Moral Orel and Bojack horsemen did a good job at that, I just feel like it could have been handled better (also I hear that there’s a rape fetishizer on the crew who storyboarded this ep which is very icky)

* angeldust is having a mental breakdown

* angel ran away after getting into an argument with husk and husk went after him

* i sense a bonding moment coming on

* oh shit someone’s about to roofie Angeldust’s drink

* oh shit husk just beat that guy up

* and now angel’s crying

* ok wait that wasn’t that bad of writing, it was actually kind of heartbreaking, whoever wrote this section of the episode needs to write everything else too cause that was a very effective emotional breakdown which is like insane whiplash from the start of the ep

* HUSK WAS AN OVERLORD???

* ok ok so husk made a deal with Alastor to keep a bit of his overlord power after gambling a little too hard so now he owes Alastor like infinite favors

* that was a pretty cool fight scene ig

* now angeldust is being more real and upfront about things so that’s nice

Characters-

* Husk seems to be very observant, I enjoy that character trait

* I’m also liking Husk and Angeldust’s dynamic, it both is and isn’t what I thought it’d be if that makes sense

* okay so some major character development for angel is happening in this ep

* I like the new perspective we get to see of angeldust, and unlike other characters this development feels deserved because they’ve been alluding to this since the beginning, it’s a nice payoff and a nice insight into angeldust as a character

* ok so angeldust is constantly putting on an act to pretend everything’s fine (which explains all the unfunny sex jokes i still hate them though)

* husk seems like the therapist friend

* angeldust had a really impactful emotional breakdown scene, I didn’t hate the way it was handled

* husk and angel have a bonding moment and sing a duet,

* it was actually really sweet

* ok now that they’ve had their little bonding moment hopefully all the unfunny sex jokes directed at husk will stop

Jokes-

* Surprisingly there aren’t as many unfunny sex jokes (which is a good thing considering this ep is highlighting the horrors of SA/rape)

* during the loser song husk makes the L hand motion at Angel and I audibly laughed

Songs-

* Poison- welp that song was… it sure was, ignoring the tactless portrayal of the SA it just wasn’t a good song, like the verses themselves are fine but the chorus is absolute dogshit which is bad cause that’s the whole hook of the song, and there’s a lot of forced rhymes and the lyrics feel like they’re shoving in too many words so the singer has to rush to fit them in, 1/10

* Loser, baby- I really like this, Keith David’s voice is absolutely ethereal, the melody is infectious, and the lyricism isn’t half bad, I Iike it a lot actually, it’s a cute little duet, 8/10

Overall-

My favorite ep so far, even though the quality of writing was kinda inconsistent it was still an entertaining watch, and for all the scenes and themes that were handled very poorly there was another scene that actually did a pretty good job, it was a mixed pot, but the character development surprised me, 7/10

So that’s my little two cents

TLDR; it’s not as bad as some people will make it out to be, but it’s not outstanding either. I’m gonna keep watching and if you’re curious I’d say to at least watch the first ep and formulate your own opinion

[hellguarded-moved]

≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @hellhunted ( "SOURCE" );

' why was it me who was the only one who lost everything? ' [ freshly demonized ra/ig angst? ]

he clasped her features firmly in his hands; clawed, scarred. hands that have seen one too many struggles already, and yet, still managed to be so selfish.

he was so happy to have her back. he'd gone through hell and back, quite literally, to bring her back. it nearly brought tears to his eyes, the way they were glistening in the setting sun while his head tilted and an awfully lovesick smile pulled at his lips. bits of stray hair falling into his eyes. perfect. everything was perfect.

they could just go back to how everything was before. whatever time spent apart was negligent— did she even remember it at all? he didn't think to ask. didn't think to care about what she wanted at all. she'd been born mortal; surely she'd long since made peace with her death, knowing of her origins?

so why did he have to interfere with natural order?

fingers tensed against cheeks, and he pulled her forward to press his lips to her forehead— no more affection was allowed when she so abruptly, so forcefully, yanked herself free from his hold.

it had left him speechles. eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

" what's wrong? " what a question. " didn't you miss me? aren't you... happy? "

the domain of the living and dead was never yours to control.

" you didn't lose anything... i brought it back! brought you back! so that we could be together... always... " the words slowly died on his tongue. as a demon himself, since birth, he had no idea what it was like to possess a ( full ) soul, to possess humanity— he'd set out to discover what it was like, but it was a concept he could never fully grasp... he could never be like her— but now, she was like him.

it hadn't once dawned on him that there was much more that the once-priestess had lost with her forceful ressurection. something beyond the hellhound's comprehension. something that had slowly, but surely, started to fill his heart with guilt.

" i... i'm... i'm sorry...? haven't we promised each other forever? " ah yes, part of their wedding vows— who would've thought that silly puppy would've taken it so literally. and so here he was, thinking he was doing her a service. now that there had been some distance made between them, he could fully, properly, see into her eyes... were they even hers anymore? a gleaming pair of emeralds, brighter yet darker at the same time than the brown hues he was once used to. her very figure was different. was this still the woman he loved?

of course she was. who else would it be?

he'd brought her back.

so why did she look at him with such hatred in her eyes?

" rashida? " a call. soft, gentle; could she hear him?

[goldennikko]

lets make a deal, I write the yunjin angst, you write a yunjin fluff the next time

~D

alr alr deal.

fluff incoming from me ig 🚶‍♀️

[storiesbyvaleriejean]

(Olive Tree)

Public Journal Entry (pt.1)

I’ve only wished death on one other person in my entire life. When I looked back on our tumultuous relationship, I realized that I was mainly to blame for her constant torment. As a bossy and controlling kid with a short-temper, I often acted rashly and took my frustrations out on my friends. Particularly one friend - we’ll call her Zetta for now.

I purposely left Zetta out on many things. I created a girl group called D-VA, a name that corresponded with the first letter of each member’s names. All except Zetta. She was visibly upset when I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) find a way to add her name into the group’s. I simply argued that it didn’t match and she was thereon deemed the background dancer.

I was bossy and rude, yes. I was also a child.

There was an incident when she complimented my sparkly lipgloss and I merely sneered at her. There was an instance when I stole her homework and handed it in as my own. She sobbed and I instantly felt ashamed. There were many instances where we both were being bullied but I refused to defend her. I sometimes even laughed along with them because I felt like my bullying wasn’t as harsh, which made me feel superior to her.

I looked down on her.

Evidently, these various experiences took a huge toll on her and she started acting coldly towards me. This marked the eventual demise of our friendship. I’ve always been introspective and self-aware, delusion was never my forté. She isolated me from our friends group, she participated in bullying me, she purposely left me out on things. She made fun of me endlessly. She stole money from me, she robbed me of joy and began to look down on me. I can admit that I was bossy when I was younger, but I don’t ever recall being cruel. She tormented me for 2 long years and in the midst of such middle school angst, I remembered asking God for her to die.

Olive Tree (pt.2)

Now nearing 30, I don’t wish death on anyone…but wouldn’t mind something awfully close. Or at least I think I do, at times.

My thoughts were now tormented by someone else. We’ll call her Audrey.

I had met Audrey when I was 17 years old. Our alma mater was hosting an excursion weekend as an effort for incoming students to better familiarize themselves with the campus and their fellow classmates. She was very bubbly and boisterous and used every facial expression, every finger, every limb to get a point across. She was animated and I distinctively remember an impossibly short romper, long legs and short bob with a long side bang.

We interacted briefly when we both volunteered to do karaoke and then met again at the very end of that weekend. She was lost and asked me if I knew where something was.

“Oh…no,” I had said. “You’re Audrey, right?”

“Uh..yeah,” she responded. “Anyways, thanks!”

And off she went.

We didn’t become close until our sophomore year and I really liked her. She was very approachable, very fun, she was easy to talk to, she even offered solid and genuine advice when I came to her about insecurities that I was struggling with. We danced at parties together, we stole cornbread together, she did my hair for events. She posted me on her ig page, “you weren’t shooting with me in the gym but vmoneyy was.” We even created alter egos for ourselves, “Stacey and Nana.”

Something shifted around Junior year. I started to really notice the attention she received from men. There were stories about her escapes “down the hill,” and while I generally ignored them, they made an impact on me. Did I feel a twinge of jealousy? Maybe a little, at that point. But my jealousy towards her blossomed once people blatantly began to compare us.

“Audrey is way out of your league.”

“You’re pretty but she’s gorgeous.”

“I’d rather Audrey than Valerie.”

At that point, my jealousy was present but very subdued. When I moved to Kansas City shortly after graduating to live with my family, my jealousy had festered to the point of no return. She was going on vacations virtually every month it seemed like. She was partying and hanging out with friends on a weekly basis. She was even getting 200+ likes on her IG pics (a huge deal!). I spent most of those two years in KC very depressed. I had virtually no friends, I was physically unwell, and I had a job that didn’t pay very well. To see my friends, specifically Audrey, thriving and flourishing while I was perpetually sullen and lonely exasperated my depression. 

Then I decided to move back home. I knew KCMO was not the place for me to grow, so I decided that I was going to find a higher paying job and save enough money to move back out to the east coast on my own. My last year in KCMO was one of the best of my life. My mother, sister and I moved into a new apartment, I made great friends, and I slowly started to feel happy again. I had a few moments of weakness because I had physically let myself go and I was still sad about not being in the city that I loved the most with the people I adored more than anything. Also, I wanted to prove to myself that I was worthy of having fun and living it up just like Audrey.

When I arrived in May 2016, I purposely ignored her and flaunted around doing various things with my friends. She finally reached out to me said something like, “Val, I’m jealous! We’re going out this weekend no if ands or buts.”

When I finally saw her again after two years, she was clad in a green cropped bomber jacket, a cropped tank, deep grey skinny jeans and a leopard flats. Her red hair hit her shoulders and her makeup was impeccable as usual. We caught up and my jealousy only bubbled at surface level once I realized the reason she was able to go on all these trips. She was on a buddy pass. I realized that she still was getting everything paid for her by her mother because she was still in school. Her car was paid for by her father. She sometimes stole clothes. My jealousy subsided just a tad and although I was jealous of her, I never made her feel less than with my words.

And then the little jabs and bragging came. She would insult me about something and then brag about something. For example:

“You don’t know how to drive?”

“No, but that’s not important to me right now.”

“I’m so glad I have a car and don’t have to take the bus.”

“Okay Audrey…”

“You still have that bum ass phone?”

“Yes.”

“My camera is better. You’re lame.”

There was always a bit of malice in her voice even though she often played it off as a joke. I finally snapped and made a Snapchat. I said something like people always brag and when they have nothing.

She saw, retaliated and said something like, “People will always judge when they have nothing going on in their miserable lives.”

I was nonplussed. We didn’t speak for at least a month. She then reached out and asked me to hang out, I felt extremely uncomfortable but agreed regardless. We then began an unhealthy cycle.

She would upset me, I would refuse to watch her social media, I would become extremely distant and ghost her. I would get off social media to reconnect with myself, 15% of that was to get away from her. Every time I would get off of social media, it was partially because of her. A very minuscule part but she definitely had a little to do with it.

Olive Tree (pt.3)

The longest I’ve ever went without speaking to her was 7 months. I dropped her after a trip to DC. Her attention seeking personality almost resulted in me being sexually assaulted. This was after she alienated me during a Halloween party after I told her that I was having a panic attack and wanted to go home. I hadn’t felt safe with her. I wholeheartedly felt that she prioritized herself and the attention she received before anyone else.

BUT I figured that maybe I was being dramatic and I knew at the end of those 7 months that I didn’t want to lose our friendship. So as a last resort, I had sent her a text, apologized and asked her to meet with me to discuss our current friendship status.

She was bragging, of course. But I was still extremely happy to see her and we had a very eventful 2019. We went to several events in NYC, we attended a pole dancing class, we went to a Broadway play, and we ate out frequently. She was the first person I showed my new apartment to and I new all the details to her personal life. There were many instances, however, where people would still compare us. She was still deemed the more attractive friend. People would compliment her and ignore me. It took a toll on me but to preserve our friendship, I decided to swallow my feelings. At this point, I didn’t blame her for anything. It wasn’t her fault that she was so gorgeous and everyone gravitated towards her.

I realized during this time that I was jealous of her because she was everything that I wanted to be. I wanted the charisma, the friends, and the incessant attention from men. She was just living life and having fun and everyone loved her for it. Instead of hating her for it, I tried to be happy that I knew her. I knew the real her and I felt it was both a blessing and a curse to know her. We bumped heads but were still very close. We got under each other’s skin but were still very close. She made me feel less than with her words, but I still treasured her friendship. It was an awkward (and sometimes toxic) love/hate relationship.

Later on that year, she had disclosed that she was going to move to Austin and I remember feeling melancholy because I genuinely wanted her to stay. She had become my best friend - almost. Then she left…and I was forced to watch her thrive in Austin on social media. The attention that she garnered from Instagram was insane. I was extremely jealous all over again. Her extroverted personality earned her a group of new friends, while I was stuck with my old introverted ones.

I grew extremely depressed during this time because I couldn’t understand why I was living such a terrible life and she was living such an amazing one. I couldn’t understand why I felt so cursed while she was so blessed. She had everything that I wanted…still. She had even managed to buy a Mercedes Benz. She was living a charmed life and was the origin of most of my misery. She was ultimately a reflection of everything I wanted to be but couldn’t. She triggered me. My blood would literally curl when I see her, my heart would always race faster. I decided to seek out a therapist and start medication for depression.

I took a month to reconnect with my family in Missouri and disconnect from social media. When I came back to Jersey, I was slowly beginning to feel like myself. I was going out more, meeting new people and reconnecting with old friends. I even looked slightly different - I gained weight, my skin had cleared. I bought a whole bunch of new clothes. I felt new and improved. I told Audrey that I was going to buy a ticket to see her in Houston. This trip proved to be one of the worst of my life.

Olive tree (pt.4)

Several things stood out to me during this trip. First of all, she left me skating alone to talk with a friend who lived in her city that she could see all the time, (that she did see all the time.) Secondly, when one her friends asked her if I was pretty, she had told him to “see for yourself,” instead of just saying yes. Thirdly, when her friend said that I was a “liar,” she agreed before quickly asking why. Fourthly, she made fun of the fact that I “acted out” on Halloween night the year she humiliated me for having a panic attack. Fifthly, she posted a very unattractive video of me online without my consent. Sixthly, we bumped heads about everything. Lastly, no matter what she did people still flocked to her.

There was a dude at a house party we attended that blatantly ignored me, refusing to make any eye contact with me, but was keen on getting Audrey’s attention. I was fascinated by it. Too fascinated to really be offended. They all loved Audrey. It was too much to bear at times. Imagine feeling subhuman, at times I felt worse.

On my last day in Houston, I asked for her email and wrote her a letter. Here is an excerpt: Who would’ve thought that we’d make such an impact on each other when we met whimsically for karaoke that summer in 2010? In the ten years of us knowing each other, we’ve experienced highs and lows, good and bad, joy and depression, success and failure. I’ve witnessed your growth and you mine. As you know, friendship is something that I value and because I value our friendship, I must say this (with love); our friendship was never the easiest. For now, in order for me to move forward, there cannot be anymore tiptoeing - at least on my side, I’m not really sure if the feeling is mutual. A relationship that has you questioning yourself is a relationship that should be questioned. Before I delve in, I wanted to reiterate my love for you, my deep admiration for you and my strong desire to keep this friendship thriving.

I spilled my heart out and sobbed while doing so. I told her, finally, what I felt. It was painstakingly honest and she responded. This is an excerpt from her: I don’t mean to diminish your feeling of having a panic attacks like the day you went to the hospital. We already discussed that. I’m not going to blame it on me being high or tipsy sunday, that situation did not need to be discussed at that table with those group of people. I take responsibility I’m sorry for even mentioning it. And because you went through that situation under my care I am even more conscious of protecting your peace by leaving any situation that makes you uncomfortable. I wanted to make sure you were ok with everything we were doing this weekend. Half the time I honestly could have left early or went home my stomach wasn’t right and still isn’t. I want you to feel protected not smaller when we are together. I always have your back. I also would rather hang out with you over a stranger anyday. (you had a friend you were reconnecting with this weekend that I know you hadn’t seen in a while so i wasn’t going to impede).

We had let it all out. And I thought we had figured it all out but boy was I wrong.

Olive Trees(pt.5)

She’s still in my skin. She dictates what I do. When I post, I know she’s watching. I do things because I know it riles her up. I know she’s constantly comparing. In some sick twisted way, I want to prove that I am worthy of more than her. I want to prove, even quietly, that I’m better than her. It’s a twisted competition and she’s winning so far…I’m waiting on my turn to win. God…when will it be my turn?

I think first to heal, it’s necessary that I try to humanize her. So although I can accept that she great traits, she also has bad ones:

- her skin is very terrible

- she’s not very photogenic

- she kind of looks like a box sometimes. (Hehe)

- her forehead is the size of the moon.

Those are physical traits. Her personality traits are worse.

- she is very attention seeking

- extroverted to the point of annoyance

- brags about minor things maybe as a mask to hide her insecurities.

- will compromise friendships for the sake of attention from men.

- tends to embellish and lie about things.

- is mean when she’s jealous.

Audrey is not a perfect person at all. But she triggers me and I pray for a day (soon) that I wake up and she no longer torments and obscures my thoughts. I wish for a day I am free to post without her in mind. I know she does crazy things. She sometimes purges to keep weight down, she is insecure about gaining weight, she has very masculine features, she is always embarrassed by her friends for doing too much. She is overly sexual at times. She is great at doing makeup to hide her skin underneath. She’s an opportunist. She takes drugs a lot of the time. Despite ALL of this. I still feel jealous. I shouldn’t. 

I’ve learned on many occasions that most of her ostentatious displays of wealth and ‘having it all together’ was fictitious. She doesn’t have a lot of money saved, she is uses a buddy pass to travel, her relationship is extremely flawed, she doesn’t have the best relationship with her mother. She has even wronged her friends for the sake of a man.

The point of this long entry is to revisit and realize that Audrey isn’t the best person. There is no reason what so ever that I should be jealous, especially when I could do some of the things that she currently does. I can travel, I can make a lot of close friends, I can create a dream life. I can do it all. Audrey is one person, although I do not wish her death, I do wish that the shackles she has on me dissolve. I know they will sooner then I think.

[armysantiny]

HDD - CCH

P: Chanhee x reader,Changmin x reader (kinda)| G: angst, drabble| Inc: journalist!chanhee, victim!Changmin, sunwoo mention, Kevin mention, café, calling cards, references to murders, implied murder, Changmin bby I'm sorry, revelations ig, again no actual graphic scenes, character death | Wc: 814 | W: references to murder, character death, screaming| R: 15

Summary: HDD. Three letters. Three letters that leave Chanhee stumped. But y/n knows what it means. Why?

Minnie's notes: WELL DAMN I'M PROUD OF THIS. This was what I meant by a Happy Death Day inspired chanhee drabble, which might become a full series at some point. Seriously, listen to Happy Death Day and tell me I'm not inspired.

Sighing as he fiddled with the decorative card in his hand, Chanhee took another sip of his latte. He was letting it get to him; the frequent murders, the antsy news reports…the calling card in his hand. What did it mean? What did ‘HDD’ mean? Shaking his head as the thought began to swallow his subconscious whole, Chanhee let go of the card – as if with scorched fingers – and focused on finishing the rest of his drink, his mind already stressed enough as it were.

Chanhee did not, in fact, stop thinking about the calling card in his pocket.

Staring at the clouds while he waited for his bus, the young journalist nearly jumped out of his own skin at the calling of his name, relaxing when the voice registered familiar; it was y/n’s voice. An embarrassed smile donning his face as he waved at the incoming figure, Chanhee took several deep breaths. It was only y/n; there was nothing he needed to worry about. Nothing he knew about, at least.

“Chanhee, are you alright? You’re staring at me like I have two heads.” Snickering as she took a seat beside her long-term friend, y/n nudged his shoulder, raising a brow when Chanhee started choking on his own saliva for a moment. “Or~ did I distract you from daydreaming about someone?”

“I wasn’t daydreaming! About anyone!” Scandalised, Chanhee defended himself, sighing in defeat when y/n’s snickering turned into unrestricted laughter, leaving her to enjoy her mini victory at the bus stop. Turning his focus back to the public transport, the journalist stood up in a hurry, pulling a somewhat-calmed y/n into their bus.

Taking the card out of his pocket to examine as the bus travelled through the city, Chanhee tilted his head – and again, and again – in vain as he understood no more than what he did back in the café. He was stumped. Tapping y/n’s shoulder and pushing the calling card into her field of view, he brought up the question that had been plaguing his mind since Changmin had mentioned receiving the card.

“Do you know what ‘HDD’ means?” Furrowing her brows at the question, y/n took the card out of his hands, flipping it over repeatedly as she attempted to get a better look.

“Isn’t this the calling card from all those murders? Who gave this to you?”

“Not to me!”

“Who then?”

"To Changmin…Changmin’s next.” Lowering his voice, Chanhee let slip just who he suspected was likely next on the list of dead people. It was simple; receive the card, and you die within 72 hours. It had been like that for every victim, there was no reason for Changmin to be any different.

Changmin received the card 65 hours ago.

Looking outside as she recognised that her stop was nearing, y/n’s eyes lit up – an answer on her mind.

“Chanhee-yah. When it’s someone’s birthday, what acronym do you use?”

“H…B…D. Happy Birthday; so?” Confused, Chanhee read the impatience in y/n’s eyes and reread the initials on the card. HDD. Looking back to y/n, the journalist froze at her expression. Was there something y/n knew? Something she was hiding?

“Anywho, this is my stop! Before I forget, call Changmin tonight, tell him I said this.” leaning in to whisper the rest of her sentence, y/n chuckled. A chuckle that put all the pieces together. Staring at her retreating figure in horror, Chanhee could only wish he hadn’t decided to ride home with y/n that night.

Sat in his apartment as clammy hands fiddled with the phone, Chanhee couldn’t move. Staring at the screen as the minutes ticked away, the journalist jumped in his skin when Changmin just so happened to call. An almost perfect coincidence.

“C-Changmin? Why are you calling so late?”

“To talk to you, duh? I’m bored~ and Kevin’s coming home past midnight; who else do I have to talk to, hmm? My favourite journalist?” Chanhee couldn’t speak. Jaw shut tight in fear and the realisation of those three letters, Choi Chanhee couldn’t speak.

“…and as I said; “Sunwoo, I don’t need to be traumatised by your elementary ramen experience, thank you very much’—”

“Changmin, there’s something I need to tell you.” Breathing out the words as fast as his anxiety gave him the strength to speak, Chanhee cut his friend’s rambling off.

“Yes, yes, yes; I will – oh God – Changmin I’m so sorry…” all Chanhee could hear was panicked running and patient footsteps. Changmin was running. Running to hide. “I met y/n today and- and she told me to say this to you tonight…”

“Yeah? What is it?” Both men freezing as Changmin’s door unlocked, Chanhee shut his eyes, silent tears falling in the empty space. “…Chanhee, there’s someone in my house. So, whatever it is, can you hurry the hell up? Before I die?”

Screams. Horrifying, blood-curdling screams.

“Happy Death Day, Ji Changmin…”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2021-2022

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[boyfriendsmalec]

Incoming theories for the coming Bad Buddy episodes:

Episode 7: All about "the bet." Pat and Pran are full on courting each other and there may be some minor angst but it'll mostly be fluff. By the end of the episode they will be officially dating (from P'Aof's recent IG post it sounds like both of them will be confessing their true feelings and honestly I can't see it lasting longer than one episode because they need to launch into their relationship as boyfriends officially, the conflict with their friends, and THEN the conflict with their parents)

Episode 8: Secret relationship but they start to tell other people. Definitely Ink and Pa would be the first to know. I think by the episode end we may get Pran telling Wai or maybe even both of them telling their friends. Might end on a cliffhanger note.

Episode 9: If their friends didn't find out about their relationship in episode 8, they will by this episode. I think this episode may center on Pran and Pat and their friendship groups converging. There may be some more conflict but by the episode end they will be supporting them.

Episode 10: The parent conflict finally kicks off (or maybe it did the end of last episode after their friends accept their relationship). This is where the friend groups will really intermesh and try to help Pat and Pran with coming out about their relationship to their parents. Maybe they start the idea for the Romeo and Juliet play here?

Episode 11: Romeo and Juliet play and their parents finally find out about their relationship. Pran's mom tries to separate them again. We will end on some type of cliffhanger where it seems like Pran is going to be sent away.

Episode 12: Now obviously this is more what I want to happen BUT I think P'Aof may pull a 180 on us by making us think Pat and Pran will be separated again but not going that route and instead we find out Pat and Pran behind the scenes formulated a plan in the event that Pran's mom tried to send him away again. I have no idea what they could have planned. Something though that would ensure Pran would have to stay at the university.

I also considered maybe Pat tells Pran's mom that he doesn't want Pran pulled away from his life and his friends again and that he will transfer to another school if Pran can stay. I think this may convince Pran's mom that Pat actually loves her son OR more likely would make Pran snap at his mom and refuse to be sent away again. If his mom threatens to not fund Pran's education anymore then SURPRISE turns out the school is willing to keep Pran in on a full scholarship that Pat and/or PatPran's friends arranged in advance in case this event happened.

Also we should find out of course why Pat's father and Pran's mother in particular have bad beef with each other. I have no idea what to think on that though. Could be revealed episode 11 but I think most likely will be revealed in Episode 12.

In any case the show will end with PatPran happy and together (and PLEASE no time skips).

Watch me get this 100% wrong but I just had to voice my current thoughts of how I could see the rest of the season progressing.

[scentedcandlesandcookies]

So I was inspired by @mrpenguinpants (go check out their work I'm referring to below this paragraph) and wanted to do another genshin fic. The interactions here can be anything you want it to mean (besides qiqi ofc). Also this is very self indulgent.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Self hatred, self loathing, blood, depressing thoughts ig(?), momentary oblivion of you squint.

Also I'm on mobile so I'm so sorry for not being able to add a read more option!

Somehow you knew without knowing. You said things without needing to say it. A vessel of purity and wholeness. You had so much to give.

But how much was too much?

Qiqi called yours name on a rather sunny day. You were just about to head to Bubu Pharmacy when she ran up to them.

"Could you help me pick herbs? We always go together."

You knew what she meant in ways she couldn't convey. You were special to her, to everyone. You weren't aware of it though.

Knowing the worth of others was easier than knowing the worth of yourself.

"Of course, Qiqi, I'll always have time for you."

Qiqi loved your smile. It felt familiar. Qiqi saw you as an older sibling. She loved you in ways she couldn't express.

"I'm only good to be your ladder though! You know I'm not good with naming herbs!"

On a cooler day, Zhongli called you to have some tea with him. The both of you sat at a teashop watching the harbor through the open window.

The gentle breeze touched all uncovered parts of your skin. The smell of the sea dancing underneath your nose. The sunset painting a melancholic picture.

"The ocean looks sad today."

Zhongli looked at you rather confusedly. After promptly sipping his tea he responded.

"How can an ocean look sad? Something so old shouldn't be humanized."

The last sentence was more for himself than anything. You didn't know, but he sometimes loathed himself for all he'd done. He wondered if all the blood spilt was worth it.

You reminded him of Guizhong, so ready to see things in a new light without judgement. He often hears you sing to glaze lilies around Qingce.

"How could we forget what all the ancients did for us?"

A day after some much needed rain, you spotted Ganyu. Busy as ever, she was handling the unending work she often received. You decided to help out.

"Good morning, Ganyu. You seem to be someone who'd appreciate and extra pair of hands."

The joking atmosphere seemed to help lift the weight more than your hands. Ganyu giggled a bit.

"Some help would be much appreciated."

The rest of the day didn't feel like work. Ganyu felt the days of her childhood rushing back to her. Days without worry or work. Everything felt warmer, the sun began peeking its head out of the clouds.

"I'll do my best."

You visited Hu Tao on a gloomy day. The clouds were gray and it looked as if it was about to rain. You entered the doors of the funeral parlor with the permission of the ferrylady.

Unfortunately, Hu Tao wasn't feeling very Hu Tao that day. Walking into her office, she seemed lost in thought.

"Hu Tao?"

The gift of candies laud forgotten on the desk. You moved to place a hand on her shoulder. A gesture of your listening presence.

"They're just pranks, and I'm just trying to get business. Like everyone else, its just...different."

Pulling her in for a hug, just being a strong unbreakable pillar for her sake.

"They don't see all the things you do behind the scenes. That makes them immature, not you. I don't think they know why you do the things you do, and you know what? That's okay. You know what you're doing, and that's the best thing you could do. You're doing so well."

Liyue knew you so so well. An unbreakable pillar. A foundation that so many people needed.

What would happen if you ever crumbled? Well, that could never happen.

You visited Xiao on a rainy day. No heavy downpour, just a normal pitter-patter kind of rain.

You held a new dish in your hands, thinking that Xiao should try a new dish. Not to 'be more human' but to just try a different taste of life.

"Why are you still coming here? Its a long way from the harbor."

You simply smiled at the ground and put down the dish. Too afraid to sit on the railing, you opted for the floor.

"Being lonely isn't fun."

"As I thought, you're still so blind. Loneliness is my only company."

You laughed for a moment.

"Guess I should change my name to loneliness then."

You dared not to look at the mighty yaksha. You were just a pathetic human after all. Letting the dish sit in your lap, you outstretched your arms behind you.

"And you can't go around telling people they're blind! We all see things differently. You might think you need to spend eternity in loneliness, but we all crave to be loved or appreciated. Xiao, you're stuck with me."

You closed your eyes and turned towards Xiao, giving him a smile.

You felt the dish being taken from your lap and heard him sit next to you.

He began eating the warm soup.

Today was a bad day to go out. Heavy rain and a dark atmosphere. But you had commissions knocking against your income. You were preoccupied with something else though.

Everyone's busy. I really need some help but everyone's busy and I don't want to bother them.

You admired Qiqi for braving through her life as best as she could.

You admired Zhongli for his wise and comforting views on life.

You admired Ganyu's persistence in her work, but most importantly in herself.

You admired Hu Tao for being herself even when others shamed her for it.

You admired Xiao for living through such mundane life, day after day.

You wanted to be just like them, but you just couldn't do it on some days.

You wanted to hide. You wanted to bitch about your day. You wanted to give up. You wanted to hide yourself to avoid judgement. You wanted something different. Someone different.

Someone who wasn't you.

You never looked as good as everyone else. Your voice never sounded right. Your never seemed to be mentionable or noteworthy. And on some days you were okay with that.

Am I really going to be another grain of salt?

You trudged through the thick mud, ignoring the blisters on your feet. The rain seemed to taunt you as it settled in your clothes, your bones.

All you could taste was steel. You couldn't remember the last meal you ate. You felt so tired. You wanted to just stop everything.

But how could you? How could you when everyone else went on? It was just one last commission. They all have so much on their plate, you couldn't burden them anymore.

But your lungs burnt, you couldn't feel your fingers on your right hand. Where was your weapon? When did you lose your bag?

Why were your eyes so blurry? Everything sounded so loud. You just wanted to sleep. You were tired. You were trying so hard.

Why was it so fucking hard?

Why couldn't you do it? Why were you always so unsure? Why didn't you work as well as the others? Your feet moved by themselves. They weren't going fast enough. Your body wasn't good enough.

You're not enough.

You think you're at your destination. You don't know. Everything feels so unclear. Everything feels wrong.

Then there was warmth on your back. It was so warm, so comforting. It finally lulled you to sleep.

The millileth pulled the mitachurl's firey axe from the back of your corpse.

You were confused when you woke up. A girl with brown hair and a hat was frantically calling someone. You were in a lobby of sorts. There were others talking about people who left. They didn't look like people. They were see through.

See through just like you.

"Aiya! Why aren't you listening to me you idiot! You scared us! What happened?"

The girl seemed to be the only normal person here. Suddenly you felt like you've been ripped from that foggy place.

People were calling the same person's name again. Over and over. You were just trying to continue sleeping when you were violently shaken.

"Hey! Whats your problem!"

You shook the person off of you. A young man with a green tattoo and dark hair. A taller man with amber eyes and brown hair. A woman with horns and silky looking blue hair. That girl from before who wore the hat. A small girl with light purple hair and had a talisman on her hat.

"You're alive! Thank the archons! We were so worried when we heard the news! " The lady with the horns looked as if she was about to cry. You felt bad but the tension was awkward.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

Ty for reading! Leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed it! I hope some of yall picked up the hidden meanings hehehe~

Part two here: