#lizzi writes

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

[dollkisses05]

need someone obsessed with me in a very poetic and unfortunate way

[platitudinalteen]

More memes based on my wip, because it's fun, lol.

[wordsarelife]

—the game

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: after one night with you, mattheo can't help but want more. sadly, you aren't the type for relationships: “that you no longer are, what you used to be, ever since you bared your skin for me”

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, angst

notes: get ready for angsty and soft mattheo riddle who is an absolute simp for you lmao, very angsty but with a happy ending :)

inspired by ‘the game’ by annett louisan

that you no longer are what you used to be ever since you bared your skin for me

"are you alright?" you were laying on the side, observing mattheo's face. he wasn't looking at you, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"y-yes" he breathed lowly and for the first time in ever, he didn't seem as cocky and arrogant.

"cool" you shrugged. you were just trying to be nice, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, so his mood wasn't really your problem. you threw back the cover and got out of the bed, tapping across the room to collect your clothes.

"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up. his eyes followed your every move.

"to my room?" you wondered, why he was asking.

"oh" he leaned against the bedframe, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "do you want one?"

"what?" you laughed in disbelief "do i look like a hooker to you?"

"no" he shook his head. you watched him for a few more seconds, before you stepped into your skirt and put your sweater on. "bye, mattheo" you smiled mischievously, before you left the room.

that you′ve lost your head in a single night and you're seeing things in another light

he didn't know yet, but that very night, you left a loneliness in him that he had never felt before. it seemed like ever since he got undressed for you, he wasn't how he used to be.

when you would see him around hogwarts he was often staring at you, thinking.

"you're staring again" theo elbowed mattheo. the classroom was quite big and you were sitting across from him, whispering with your friend.

"huh?" mattheo looked up at theo.

"she might notice" theo reminded "you're not invisible, matt"

"sure" mattheo shrugged his shoulder.

theo was the only one of his friends who had noticed the change in mattheo's character. he was acting unusal, especially because he hadn't hooked up with anyone in the last few weeks. he didn't have the courage to ask him about it yet, but he knew it had something to do with him always staring at you.

mattheo had been interested in sleeping with you for a long time. he had thought just getting it over with would stop his bubbling obsession, but it seemed to have made it worse. he wasn't used to desire someone like that, especially not after he had slept with them.

there was nothing new for him to see and still he wanted to do it again. for him it was like every single girl had suddenly disappeared. there was only you. sitting across from him. in a different light. and that scared him deeply.

during dinner theo had finally stopped making comments. mattheo was thankful for that, but he still tried to stray away from watching you, even if his eyes seemed to automatically find you.

"hey" blaise sat down on the bench in front of mattheo, successfully blocking his sight on you.

"hi" mattheo and theo chorused, before they continued eating. well, theo did, mattheo was just pushing food around on his plate.

"okay" blaise said "what's wrong with you both?"

mattheo send theo a look, who sighed "nothing"

"i should've stayed with pansy and draco" blaise muttered, nodding his head at the two sitting a few spots down. "even if they're hardcore flirting, at least that was some what interesting"

"wohoo!" enzo sat down next to blaise "the party can start!" he announced dramatically. mattheo rolled his eyes at the boy. blaise was annoying on his own, but the combination with enzo was nothing mattheo could take today.

it had been a month without sex and mattheo was feeling the effect.

"are we in a bad mood today?" enzo teased.

"fuck off" mattheo shoved his plate away and crossed his arms, bending his head down.

"hey" a soft voice made the boys look up. you were standing next to mattheo, who quickly scrumbled to his feet.

"hi" he said "how are you?"

"i'm fine" you smiled, sending an irritated look to enzo, whose eyes grew big as he recognized you. "is your friend alright?" you asked mattheo.

mattheo turned around and knew immediately who you were talking about. enzo was flailing his hands dramatically, hitting blaise on the shoulder over and over again, as if that would be enough to transfer his thoughts. "ignore him" mattheo tried his best to smile at you effortlessly, but was nervous about the reason you were talking to him in the first place.

"okay" you stretched, focusing on the boy in front of you again. "you forgot your notebook" you held it in his direction and he tried to hide his disappointment.

"oh" he nodded "thank you" you send him a last smile, before you turned around and walked back to your table

"that was horrible" theo muttered in mattheos direction, when he sat down again. before he could answer anything, enzo broke into a giggle.

"what's going on with you, you moron?" blaise looked at enzo in disgust and slid a bit to the side, rubbing his arm, that was probaly blue now after enzo had hit it multiple times.

"that's the girl!" enzo blabbled "from the party! the one you took back to the dorm!" he pointed his finger at mattheo. it seemed like enzo enjoyed knowing something secretive for the first time. normally he would be the last to hear about his friends flings.

"and?" mattheo shrugged, acting nonchalantly.

"yeah" blaise shrugged "she isn't the first and probably won't be the last, am i right?"

mattheo nodded relucantly and theo wiped his face with one hand, trying to hide his expression.

"hey mattheo" annie, a slytherin mattheo was sitting next to in potions, slid in on the bench next to him. he had been pursuing her for a few weeks, before he had slept with you.

"hi" mattheo replied absentmindedly.

blaise and enzo exchanged a confused look. theo shrugged. and mattheo? he seemed to be utterly uninterested in talking to annie any further. he turned his head away from the girl and she opened her mouth, but before anything could come out of it, blaise entered the non existent conversation.

"i'm good at sex too, sweetheart" he send her a smug smile, followed by a wink, while wiggling his eyebrows.

theo tried to hide his face, ashamed at what his friend was babbling and annie wrinkled her nose, looking at blaise disgusted.

"what?" she asked and then turned to mattheo "aren't you going to say anything?"

mattheo shrugged and took a sip from his water. annie shook her head outraged and got up. "arrogant asshole" she threw her head back and walked off.

that because of me you would leave a love and now I'm all you're dreaming of

"what was that?" enzo asked and even he seemed to be irritated now.

"what do you mean?" mattheo acted like he didn't have a clue what his friend was talking about.

"annie" blaise exclaimed, pointing in the direction the girl had just left. "you wanted to tap that ever since the school year started"

"you just ruined your progress" enzo added.

"i don't care" mattheo got up. his eyes caught yours across the hall. you smiled at him, before you continued your conversation with a boy, mattheo had never seen before, who was obviously flirting with you "i don't want her anymore"

blaise and enzo turned around. blaise clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what was going on.

"the girl from the party?" enzo asked confused, he was a bit slower.

"y/n" mattheo corrected, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers

"what about her" blaise elbowed enzo. hard. "ow! blaise!"

"just look at him" theo muttered and mattheo didn't even hear his friends talking anymore. he was too focused on you and that boy, focused how you touched his arm and threw your head back from laughter. a month ago it had been mattheo talking with you like that. now you were the only thing that mattered to him and it seemed he couldn't be more irrelevant to you.

"shit" enzo mumbled as he realized. mattheo took that as his cue to leave and do something about his pathetic situation.

"can we talk?" he asked and you looked up at him confused.

"we're sort of in the middle of something" the unknown boy said. mattheo ignored him, sending you a pleading look.

"sure" you agreed, excusing yourself and following mattheo out of the hall and into an abondened classroom.

"so, what did you want to talk about?" you crossed your arms, leaning you back against one of the tables.

"you're driving me crazy, y/n" he quickly said and you raised your eyebrows. "i can't get you off my mind, ever since that night"

"oh" you simply said "i didn't want to mislead you, mattheo"

that dismal to be when every now and then someone else i′ll see again, it wasn't planned that you now feel like one of many

he sighed, his hand running through his curls. he stepped closer and the worried look on your face was making him go feral, the way you looked up to him through thick lashes, your hair, your smell, everything about you. his hand cupped your cheek softly, his thumb brushing along your lip.

"mattheo" you muttered. you didn't know that he was thinking more of that night "i thought we both agreed that this was just a simple hook up"

"it's not simple anymore" mattheo whispered and his breath fanned over your skin, making you perk up and inch closer. but you had to control yourself. it would be different for you than for him, you didn't want to take advantage of his feelings. "i want you to myself, all of you" he said and confirmed your worries.

"mattheo" you pleaded again. you touched his cheek. and his skin felt like it was burning under your touch. "i don't want to be someone's girlfriend" you muttered and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"i can't bear to see you with him" he admitted "not with anyone"

"i didn't want you to feel like one of many" you said softly. he let go of your cheek and you took his face in both of your hands. "we can do it again" you looked into his eyes "but it's not like that for me"

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he lifted you up on the table behind you, deepening the kiss and opening your ponytail with a quick gesture. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. just for now"

"okay" you said and you felt worse at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded. "okay"

that you fall in love, because we do it. that it affects you so much i did not know that

mattheo climbed on top of you, pushing you down on the table and both of you knew that this was a volatile arrangement. you would keep your promise, but he knew you weren't his. he ignored that as he opened your bra and littered your collarbone with kisses.

you looked up to the ceiling and felt the guilt bubble inside of you. this felt wrong. and you were scared that mattheo was confusing lust with love. after all you weren't the type for relationships and you had thought he wasn't either.

you both parted ways after that night in the classroom. you kept out of his way out of guilt. and he kept away from you in the hope that whatever he was feeling was finally going to disappear.

halloween came and went and mattheo felt himself indulge in meaningless hookups, just like before he had been with you, but it wasn't the same. it felt wrong, like a duty he couldn't fulfill.

you weren't able to forget the feeling of the touch of his skin. the way it burned under your hand. they way nobody elses skin had ever burned under your touch. not like that atleast.

it took less than a week for a note to find you and for you to return to the abandoned classroom during nightfall. it made your heart burn to see him like that. desperate for your warmth. that night he took you out of the castle and while you were laying on the grass and watching his features shine under the stars, you had almost wanted to cry.

the sight of him saddened you and made you wish to give him all he was longing for. but you couldn't and mattheo knew that, but that night you were his for a short time once again.

you decided that this was going to be the last time. you would break it off the next time he would send a note. seeing the hurt in his eyes broke you more and more. especially when he tried to advert his eyes from you around the castle. as if he was constantly telling himself off for liking you the way he did.

leave it be, i can't deal, i have too much respect for how you feel

he was waiting for you when you arrived the next night. the glint of hope, any time you came to your secret meetings made everything so much worse.

"we have to stop doing this" you got right to the point.

mattheo's face fell. "what?"

"this isn't doing you any good" you admitted "i can't bear to hurt you"

"okay" he said "then don't go"

"it will hurt so much more if i don't go now"

he shook his head "you don't know that"

"i do" you assured unwillingly "it's not the same for me, matty"

"you don't feel anything?" he muttered, gently touching your face "does this do nothing to you at all?"

"not in the way you would want" you looked to the ground, trying to avoid his eyes. "i don't do commitment"

mattheo stepped back from you and nodded bitterly. "yeah" he shrugged. "why would you?"

you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. "i have too much respect for you and the way you feel than to play with you like that"

"don't say that" he shook his head and adverted his eyes.

"i'm sorry, matty, i truly am" you tried to grab his hand, but he moved backwards "but what did you expect? i told you the truth from the beginning"

"i know" he pushed his hair back, looking from the ground to your eyes "i thought, maybe, if this was going on for longer, you would eventually like me like that"

this was it. this was the moment your heart broke. he was looking at you and a single tear slipped down his cheek. in that moment you truly regretted ever coming close to him.

"you don't want that" you promised "you don't want to know me in a way that's more than for a night"

"i do" he argued "of course i want that"

"i will just let you down, matty"

"don't be ridiculous" he grabbed your shoulders

"loving me is not easy" you said loudly, trying to escape his hold.

"i know" he admitted "it's fucking hell"

you looked up at him in surprise. "you don't know what you're saying" you turned your body away from him with a sudden movement. "you don't love me. you can't love me"

"you'd be surprised at how much" he said softly. you turned around and looked at his face. you had known that he wanted more from you than you were able to give him.. but love? you had initially thought that whatever it was that made him dream of you, would be forgotten in less than a week. at least that was what had happened with any guy that claimed to like you before.

"i love you" he said, more clearly. "so much"

you couldn't allow yourself to hope. you couldn't take his words seriously. you shook your head and his smile died once again. whatever part of him had hoped to convince you was crashed and burning by now. "it will go away"

he watched in dispair as you silently left the room, without looking at him. he sank down on the table behind him, burying his face in his hands. what he didn't know was that you were doing the exact same right outside the classroom.

the next morning during breakfast you felt burned out by how much you had cried that night. your eyes felt puffy and your voice was hoarse. you ignored the conversations your friends were having around you, even if you got talked to. instead your eyes were fixated on the empty spot next to theo nott.

theo, who had noticed your look, send you a sympathic smile and shrugged his shoulders, making it obvious that he knew as much as you about mattheo's absence.

you got up from your seat aprublty, leaving the hall quickly and ignoring your friends questions. you took the fastest way to the astronomy tower you knew. you couldn't sit at the table and act like everything was normal. you wanted to be alone.

you let you legs dangle, the pole inbetween them securing your seating.

"seems like we both had the same idea" a sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up. mattheo was standing at the stairs. you got up from your place.

"i'll leave" you assured him. after yesterday, you felt like it was your duty to give him space. he wasn't the problem, you were. and you didn't want to cause him any more harm.

"you don't have to" mattheo shrugged and you noticed that he was lying. he would rather have you leave again then look at you while knowing you would never reciprocate the way he did it.

"it's fine" you smiled, but it wasn't genuine. you walked past him, but unintentionally stumbled and almost fell down the stairs. he reacted quickly and caught your arm.

he let go of you after he had stabilized your footing.

"thank you" you mumbled

he ignored it. "maybe you should go to madam pomfrey, your arm is burning hot"

you perked up at that. "what?" you whispered.

"your arm is burning hot" he repeated, assuming you just hadn't heard him.

you looked at him in disbelief, remembering how his skin used to feel under your touch, and how the reason behind it all had been simple and plain love.

but you had to know for sure. you pulled your blouse from your skirt, quickly unbuttoning the last buttons. you pulled it up, so that your skin was bare. "can you touch me there?" you asked and mattheo's eyes widened.

"what the fuck?" he wondered.

"can you just do it, please?" you asked again and he sighed, but softly touched you. "is it hot?"

"your skin or this situation?"

"the skin" your face reddened.

mattheo nodded and frowned. "alarmingly, actually"

"open your shirt" you directed and to your surprise, he did like you had asked without the slightest hesitation.

you pressed you hand against his chest quickly. his skin was burning underneath it. you smiled.

"touch my face" mattheo cupped your cheeks. he nodded silently, confirming that your face was as hot as the rest of your body.

your smile grew even bigger and mattheo smiled back hesitantely, still confused at what was going on. "can i hug you?" you asked.

mattheo nodded and opened his arms for you to step in. for the first time you were doing something that didn't involve sexual lust. you breathed in his smell of nicotine and perfume and you wondered how something so simple could be so special. you stepped back and you knew that you were now seeing things in a different light, everything, even him.

"i'm probably not good at it" you admitted "but i think i'm in love with you"

mattheo smiled at you and laughed. "you were teribble at it, yeah" he grinned "so there is much room for improvement"

you giggled, but quickly grew serious again "i'm not good at being committed"

"me either" he said and stepped closer, taking your face in his hands once again. "but we will manage, we can learn together" he promised and kissed you softly. both of your lips were burning up.

"that sounds like a plan" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your fingers "but it will be hard to love me" you looked down.

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he drew you close to his body, deepening the kiss and squeezing your waist in a way that made you squeek in surprise. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. for longer than now"

"okay" you nodded and you felt butterflies errupting at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded and you mirrored his smile. "okay"

[nikoforgot]

murder drones comic i made in the format of a groupchat

[dearausten]

nah cause the fact that jane austen wrote a character like emma woodhouse is still insane to me. she threw all the standards out the window and was like hey, here’s this incredibly complex and nuanced character, she’s selfish, privileged, manipulative and arrogant, but she’s also really fucking kind, she would do anything for those she loves (including sacrificing a lot of her liberties), she is able to admit that she’s made a mistake and grow from it, because those things are not mutually exclusive. and i think the reason why everyone is trying to girlbossify their heroines to make them like lizzie bennet (which is an insult to her character but that’s another story) is because they’re scared to write characters like emma. which is understandable, because she’s unlikeable-ish, and they don’t want to take that risk.

honestly the way jane wrote emma is IMPECCABLE and not everyone can pull it off, but i wish female characters with actual flaws were more popular.

[jellieland]

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

[insanegirlbloging]

sorry for being extremely pretty and not knowing how to start a conversantion

[scarletlizzard]

Christmas Angel

Parings: wanda maximoff x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, fluff, dirty talk, name calling, choking, strap on (R) receiving, dom!wanda, fingering , cheating?

Summary: At a Christmas party in a club, you find yourself sitting alone at the bar. That is until Wanda Maximoff buys you a drink.

You sip down another straight shot of vodka, wondering how the hell you got here. You look around the crowded club at the Christmas decorations that hung all over the building. Strands of green and red flickered above you, fake felt snow wrapped around the bar, even the bartender was wearing half of a Santa suit. The crowd of people behind you on the dance floor seemed to get bigger in the 15 minutes you had been sitting at the bar, and you were starting to wonder whether or not you should leave.

"You want another?" the shirtless Santa asks, his fake white beard crooked as he shakes a cocktail. You sigh with a smile and shrug.

"Why the hell not?" He nods at your words, returning a smile. As he pours you another shot, you find yourself subconsciously turning the ring on your left index finger. You stare at it for a moment before grabbing the shot glass, lifting it up towards shirtless Santa, and downing it in one go.

After that shot you definitely felt yourself relax, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to course through your body. Before you could call over the bartender again, shirtless Santa, he's already walking towards you with a drink in hand. "Here you go!" He sets down a fruity looking cocktail in front of you. His beard was no longer crooked, but now his hat was.

"Oh, hey, I didn't order anything else!" You raise your voice, trying to speak above the music and across the bar.

"No worries, someone sent this for you and paid your tab already!" He yells back and sends a friendly wink your way before nodding his head in the direction across the bar. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the color red as you looked over, a woman standing out from the rest of the crowd. She raises her glass in your direction, and you're compelled to do the same.

She smiles and watches as you take a sip of her gift, and you can't help the blush on your cheeks from the way she stares. From what you could make out, she was wearing a nice red sweater that clashed with her gorgeous auburn hair and black slacks on her bottom half. Her eyes were encased with black framed glasses, and thankfully, they couldn't hide the glimmer of emerald you saw behind them.

Lost in the sea of green, you realize she's left her spot and is making her way over to you. You quickly run a hand through your hair and straighten up the short green dress you had on. Soon enough, she's standing next to you, leaning against the wood of the bar.

"Hey there!" The redhead says.

"Hey."

"I couldn't help but notice you all alone over here," she says, her voice is just loud enough for you to hear it over the loud music. You notice her eyes settle on the ring on your finger, but only for a moment. She has a small smirk on face as her eyes move back up to meet yours. "Or maybe you aren't alone?" She asks with a tilt of her head.

"I'm alone," you say flatly, shrugging and sipping your drink.

"Good to hear. I'm Wanda, and you?"

"Y/N," is all you say, watching as she nods.

"That's a very beautiful name." You feel her inch forward towards you. There's a moment of awkward silence as you don't speak. "Where are you from?" Wanda asks.

"New York."

"Oh really? Wow, New York is beautiful this time of year.. Rockefeller Center, the snow."

Another moment of silence.

"Did you go to school there?"

You nod, "Yep, NYU. I studied photography there."

"Oh, that's really cool! I've always been interested in photography, you know. Taking pictures.. and what not.." She clears her throat and adjusts the glasses on her face.

Silence.

"I um, I like your earrings by the way, they uh, really complement your eyes," She says with a sweet smile, bringing her cup up to her lips and taking a drink. You sigh and do your best to look annoyed with her. "You know actually -"

You cut her off with a raise of your hand, standing from the stool. "Let me just stop you right there, Wanda. You seem really sweet and really nice. You bought me a drink, asked about my life, and complemented me.." You start off, looking at her cheeky grin and the glasses on her face. "But sweet and nice is not what I'm looking for. I don't want someone to chat with all night long, talking about who's from where and what makes you giggle. Not interested, thanks," you give her a fake, bitchy smile.

Wanda has a look of shock on her face, mouth open as she stutters to find the right words. "Y/N, Y/N wait, I'm not -" But you're walking away from her to the dance floor, leaving the rest of your drink at the bar. You let out a huff as you weave through the ocean of bodies, letting yourself get lost in the music.

The lights above the dance floor flash red and green, and everyone around you was wearing Christmas colors or tacky Christmas sweaters. It reeked of alcohol and sweaty bodies, but you found yourself swaying your hips to the music anyway. It only took a few minutes before you felt a pair of hands on your waist, gripping tightly. You felt their body against your back, moving along with you to the upbeat music that played. One of the hands traveled up your waist and side, up your arm and shoulder to move your hair away from one side of your neck. You can feel them lean down against you, their lips on your ear as they begin to speak.

"I'm anything but sweet and nice, angel." You hear Wandas voice as her arm wraps around you tightly to prevent you from turning around. Her other arm wraps higher around your body, letting her fingers explore the skin on your exposed shoulder.

"Wanda -"

"Shut up, slut," she spits out, making you gasp in her grip. "That's what you are isn't it? That's how you want to be treated?" Wanda presses her hips further against your ass, and that's when you realize for the first time she's got something underneath her slacks. She loosens her grip enough to let you turn around in her arms.

You see that she's lost the glasses, and her eyes are dark with lust. Flashes of green hit her face, accenting her eyes. When red begins to flash, another smirk plays on her lips.

"What did you just call me?" You say, shock still on your voice. But who were you kidding? You could feel yourself getting more turned on with every smirk on her face.

"I called you a fucking slut," she says, without blinking. "I'm not interested in talking or chatting, I don't care about New York or where you went to school... and I fucking hate those earrings." Again, without changing a single expression on her face.

Your jaw drops at her words, "I will deck you right here and take you to the fucking floor."

"Promise?" Another smirk.

The two of you stand and stare at each other for a moment.

Two moments.

Then you're leaning up, and she's leaning down in what could be the hottest kiss of your life. Her hands are on your back holding you tightly against her, and your hands move behind her head to tangle in her auburn locks, pulling at them. Wanda groans into your mouth, mumbling, "Bathroom, now.." against your lips.

Once the door shuts, Wanda pins you to the hard surface, reaching behind you to lock the door. Your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer to you and kissing her again. Her tongue slides across your bottom lip, forcing herself into your mouth. You moan at the feeling and gladly let her. Wandas hands move down your body, exploring as she makes her way to the bottom of your dress. She pulls up roughly, letting it slide above your hips.

You bite down on her bottom lip, sucking hard and loving the way she hisses at the feeling. She pulls back for a moment, "This is what you want, baby?" Wanda asks, and you appreciate she's asking for permission. You quickly nod, "Yes."

She wastes no time in kneeling down and ripping your panties off so roughly that you realize she's ripped the fabric. She tosses the torn panties to the ground and looks at you with another fucking smirk.

You think, in that moment, her smirk is going to be the death of you.

"You want to be a slut so badly, I'll treat you like one," her hand reaches up to your neck, squeezing tightly. Her other hand moves between your thighs, easily sliding in two fingers. She chuckles darkly and bites back a moan as she feels how wet you were, for her. Her hand squeezes a little harder, making you loose a little air in the perfect amount of pleasure.

"You look even better with my hand around your neck," Wanda says, her fingers beginning to pick up the pace. You begin to moan loudly at the feeling, your hands resting on her shoulders and gripping onto her sweatshirt for support.

"Fuck, Wanda!" She groans at your words, not letting her grip go from around your neck. Wanda feels you begin to squeeze her fingers and she tilts her head.

"Already, angel? You want to cum for me? You want to cum all over my fingers?" She asks, moving them faster. You open your mouth to speak but between her hand on your neck and her fingers pumping in and out of you, you're lost for words. Instead you manage to nod, feeling a build up of pleasure in your lower stomach burning. As you're about to reach your peak she quickly removes her fingers, making you whimper at the empty feeling. You glare at her, tears welling as your body was denied it's release.

"Did you think I would really let a little slut like you cum on my fingers? No, no.." She says with a shake of her head, letting go of your neck. Your legs tremble under your weight and you watch as she begins to unzip her pants. "Get on your knees, like a good girl." You're suprised at yourself, that was all it took for you to follow her instructions.

Wanda stood tall in front of you, her green eyes dark and a permanent smirk at the sight in front of her. She takes the faux cock from her pants, letting it through the undone zipper. Her strap is bigger than you thought, and your eyes widen, knowing you hadn't taken anything like that before. "You'll be okay, get it nice and wet for me," she smiles down at you, putting her hand on the back of your head.

You swallow hard and wet your lips before lifting it up, licking down the side. Wandas breathing was getting heavier, and you knew it was turning her on. She takes your hair in a fist, pulling it just a little bit. You finally take the strap in your mouth, moving your head up and down. "That's it, angel.. fuck you look so hot on your knees," Wanda groans and throws her head back but for only a moment, wanting to watch every second of this.

She begins to move her hips a little, pulling at your hair a little harder. It's when you look up at her with seemingly innocent eyes that she lets out a moan. Wanda can only take a little longer before she's taking herself out of your mouth, her eyes following the trail of spit from your mouth to her strap. She helps you stand up and pushes you against the door for a second time tonight.

You're surprised when she picks you up, "Wrap your legs around me, baby." She says to you, hands gripping your ass. Your back is pressed to the door as she uses one hand to line herself up at your entrance. You bite down on your lip when you feel the tip inside of you.

"Don't be gentle," you smirk at her, enjoying the reaction it drawed out from her. Her hips snap up quickly, and you eat your words as in one motion she's fully inside of you.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she says and adjusts her grip on you. Your legs are wrapped tightly around her when she begins to move her hips, thrusting harshly. You can't control your moans as she fucks you, loving every second of the gorgeous redheads attack on you. Your fingers thread through her hair, arms holding onto Wanda as tightly as you could. She leans forward to kiss you and smirks against your lips as you can barely kiss her back.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Wanda moans against your mouth, watching as you close your eyes and throw your head back against the door.

"Ah, ah.." she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, her thrusts not getting off rhythm once. "Look at me when I fuck you." You open your eyes with a whimper, "Let me hear you, angel." You oblige and let out all your moans, not being able to control yourself.

"Oh, Wanda!... Yes, yes, yes... fuck me harder! ... oh fuck..."

Both of you are moaning now, and Wanda has sucked a few marks on your neck as she murmered dirty things in your ear. She feels your legs tighten around her, your nails digging into the back of her neck.

"I want to hear you beg for it," she pants out, finding herself close to climax. "Beg me to let you cum."

Your head is spinning. You can barely breathe, but you're willing to do anything as long as she doesn't deny you again. "Wanda, please! Please, let me cum.. please.." You whimper out, feeling that familiar heat building up inside you. "I need you, I need to cum, please.." You beg her, and it's music to her ears.

It shouldn't be possible, but she thrusts harder inside of you. "Fuck, fuck.. good girl, taking my cock so well," Wanda moans against your neck, pulling back to look in your eyes.

"Cum for me, angel.. cum all over my cock. Be a good girl for me," she pants out, her thrusts becoming uneven. At her words you feel yourself let go, screaming her name as you do. Your thighs become wetter and Wanda continues to thrust, her pace slowing down as you ride out your high. "God.. fuck baby!" She moans, her hips stuttering against you as she does the same.

The two of you stay there, still for a moment as you cach your breath. Wanda takes a deep breath, leaving slow, wet kisses on your neck and chest. You hum as she does, letting your eyes close and your fingers scratching softly on the nape of her neck.

"Wanna go get some pizza?" Wanda asks as she watches you fix your makeup in the mirror. You take in her relaxed demeanor in the mirror, leaned against the bathroom wall with her arms crossed as if she didn't just fuck the life out of you. Your eyes travel to her face and - goddammit, she smirks.

Wandas jacket is warm as the two of you leave the club and you take in a deep breath in the cold, your nose being filled with the scent of Wanda. For three blocks you walk and talk about the Christmas decorations you see along the way. "Now, those ones, are pretty," She smiles wide pointing to a store with nostalgic lighting wrapped around it's window. The colorful lights shine on her face and you find yourself smiling, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers.

She took you to her favorite pizza place. It was hot and greasy and everything you could want, drunk and freshly fucked at 2am. When you were finished and satisfied, she held open the door for you, her arm stopping you from walking through the frame. You look at her, confused. Wanda only looks up, and you giggle as you realize she's looking at the mistletoe hanging above the two of you. "You know it's bad luck if you dont kiss under it.." Another smirk is all it takes for you to kiss her again.

Wanda holds your hand as she walks you home, only a few blocks away. You feel her fingers play with the ring on your finger. As you step up to your door she smiles, staying behind you at the steps. "So.. this is where you live, huh?" She smiles up at you, green eyes shining brightly.

You laugh and shake your head, stepping down so you are right in front of her. Your hand reaches up to her cheek, letting your thumb move softly. She leans into your touch, her cold cheeks warming in your hand. "You live here too, Wanda.." You giggle at the way she scrunches up her nose, and you lean up to place a soft kiss on it.

You pull the warm comforter over yourself and smile at your wife as she walks in with a glass of water. "What'd you think? I was going for a nerdy with a hot side, but you blew me out of the water." Wanda smiles back and climbs into bed next to you. You laugh and shake your head, letting her wrap her arms around you.

"I loved it. The glasses were a really nice touch, by the way. You looked so sexy.. I wasn't too bitchy? I was trying to have some attitude," you say and she laughs along with you. "I still cant believe we did that.." You rest your head on her chest, relaxing as her fingers stroke your hair. You let your own rub circles on her shoulder.

"No, I loved the attitude. It was so hot. Perfect amount of bitchy," she chuckles and kisses the top of your head. There's a moment of comfortable silence as the two of you lay holding each other.

"You're perfect.." her voice is soft, and you smile at her words, staring at the ring you've been twirling on your finger. You wondered how you got so lucky to deserve Wandas love. She lay quietly, wondering how she got so lucky to deserve being able to love you.

"I love you, Wanda.."

"I love you, more Y/N.."

**********

a/n: This is based on the opening scene of the movie Four Christmases! I thought it would be funny to see if people caught on to it or if they thought that the reader was cheating or something like that, oops. Thanks for all the likes and reads! Any comments are greatly appreciated ♡

[theold-ultraviolence]

The Bard and the Sorceress

summary: Eddie makes up a bedtime story of how your baby was conceived, to your pregnant belly. CW: established relationship, dad!Eddie x pregnant!reader, 'she/her' pronouns used. Brief mentions of a first miscarriage (not graphically described), alluded smut. Let me know if I missed anything! word count: 1.7k

“Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen… – Wait, no, no, no. A knight and a princess!” 

You giggle, head tilting back against the pillows in delight, as Eddie’s plush lips brush against your skin, as delicate as clouds. He’s gazing at you from his spot by the foot of the bed, with those golden eyes and a dimply grin that rival the sunshine – a combination seen in your dreams, reflected on another tiny being.  

“No, no, no, no, wait, no – a bard and a sorceress…” he winks as he puts on his raspy dungeon master voice and slyly raises his eyebrows.  

“That’s more like it. Alright! – once upon a time, there was a bard and a sorceress, who lived blissfully in their cottage, far out in the forest that surrounded an ancient kingdom…” 

Eddie’s murmurs wrap around your heart like the safest of embraces. His warm breath swirls among the broad expanse of your pregnant belly like the embers of a fire on a cold winter night; his curls caress the stretched skin, like petals falling on a soft bed of grass; his callused fingers trace the stretchmarks and sore spots reverently, trying to make up the outline of the baby that he imagines is sleeping soundly within you. 

Your shared bedroom is bathed in mellow, honeyed light coming from the bedside lamp, as you lay among freshly washed sheets to relax you, and pillows that are perfumed with the heavenly scent of your and Eddie’s skin. You’ve got your t-shirt rolled up beneath your breasts, with your belly being warmed by Eddie’s cheek, which longingly rests there as he talks.

“The bard and the sorceress didn’t have much to their names, but they had love. Endless love.”

Eddie begins his tale, ever the storyteller, able to breathe life into entire realms in the spur of the moment. You grin as you imagine your child in the near future, being lulled to sleep as her father spins endless, magical adventures, just for her. 

“The bard would sing as the moonlight shone under the sorcerer, who danced in the woods to the beat of the night. Together they created magic, their sounds of love made a symphony that rivaled that of the wolves and nightbirds. And from that magic, a little bud grew within the sorceress.” 

Your eyes wander aimlessly all over the room, getting lost in the coils at the crown of Eddie’s head as you remember how all of this came to be. How the conversation of children had been had so long ago, only then it had been agreed that you’d wait until after you got married and had a little bit more to your name than a shitty apartment you could barely afford with Eddie balancing out his job at Thatcher tire and teaching music on the side, and you begging people to buy your paintings while you taught art at the youth center. 

But, there was one day, when you just couldn’t pry your hands away from each other; when there came rounds and rounds and rounds of rough, primal, feverish need that left you both desperate and drenched, throbbing, aching, and hungry for more, more, more. 

You were gonna have a child anyway, so why wait? You begged Eddie to fill you in the way no one else would ever do until you could feel his essence stuffing you to the brim, Eddie’s being making a home inside yourself. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he filled you again the next day, onto the next week. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Those days, you were both so elated, feeling invincible and high without taking a single hit. It truly was like magic, which burst out with sparks the day you took that first pregnancy test and it came back positive. 

“The sorceress saw the face of that little bud, as clear as day, in her cauldron of clairvoyance.” 

You exchange a grin as you remember endless conversations before falling asleep, sharing how you were both so certain it would be a girl. 

“...And I wanna name her Elizabeth, like your mom…” you had murmured so long ago, while tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, your heart folding over the way his eyes teared up with gratitude when you said that.  

He grinned through the rivers that traversed his cheeks, nodding as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh yeah? You’d do that for me? You’re gonna give me another little Lizzie Munson?”

And even through his cracking voice, he had poked your sides to tickle you so you wouldn’t call him out for crying – making you wrap your arms around him and kiss him silly until your tears were replaced with bubbling giggles. 

“The bard wrote songs for it, lullabies to help it grow,” Eddie continues. “The sorceress prayed every night to the mother goddess of the woods, swearing the little bud would be named in her honor. All was well, all was right. Until a dreadful night when they were awoken by a banshee’s shriek. The bud was gone!” 

Your fingers halt their caress around Eddie’s curls, as the memory never fails to make your heart shudder, as if out without proper cover on a cruel, arctic night. You hadn’t done anything wrong at all, and the doctors said it was normal for a first-time pregnancy. It didn’t make it any less tragic for you, having woken one night, to the horror of your bedsheets stained with blood. 

“The bard and the sorceress lamented its loss for days and nights. What had they done? They had nurtured it with all the love in their bodies; the sorceress had woven garments to keep it cozy during the winter, and the bard wrote sonnets to make its mind spin like dandelions in the wind.” 

When you came back from the hospital, you swore you’d honor the original plan of waiting until after getting married. You gave yourselves a whole week to just be sad, doing nothing but napping and staying in bed watching silly movies. You even started a little diary where you wrote the things you looked forward to doing with your child once they came back to you – first missing tooth, first trip to Disneyland, first words, first day of school… 

Eddie grabs your hand then, recognizing where your mind had wandered off to, giving it three little squeezes – to signify ‘I love you’ without words. He stops his tale to give your bellybutton a little kiss, nuzzling his cheek against your skin and breathing in deeply, as if reassuring himself that those memories were a thing of the past. 

That the present was far more beautiful – kicking his face and making him snort and chuckle, saying “Alright, alright, you want your papi to continue, I get it!”  

You laugh brightly, and resume your toying with Eddie’s hair as he clears his throat exagerateddly before continuing. 

“In their period of mourning, the sorceress sought answers from her cauldron, and was soothed by the revelation she came upon. There in the iridescent liquid, the face of the bud became clear again, enveloped by tender, wise hands. A whisper came in with the gust of wind entering through the opened window. It was the mother goddess! whose soothing voice assured the sorceress that their little bud would be safe with her – that she would take care of it until the time was right for it to rejoin the couple. Many spring suns rose before the sorceress felt the kick of life within her once again, growing stronger each day, with the blessing of the mother goddess.” 

“ – and you know who that is?” Eddie breaks the narrative to speak directly to the baby that’s been kicking eagerly through the rest of Eddie’s tale. He taps his finger gently to the spot that seems to jut out with each kick, with a goofy lovesick grin on his face. Still amused as hell because he says it looks like a scene from Alien. 

“That’s you, baby!” You double over in laughter when he blows a raspberry to your belly, retaliating all the kicks he felt against his cheek during your tale “That’s you, my precious girl!” he coos between snorting chuckles and tickles that make you both roll around in bed. 

“-- Stop, stop stop!!” You wheeze as you try to push Eddie away from you, making him redirect his attack to the side of your neck. 

He fits himself behind your body, with his arm all snug around your belly until your laughter dies down, to the gentle rhythm of his hand rubbing circles along the shape of you, and those dewdrop kisses that turn into gentle licks that have you sighing contently, melting into the bed. 

Only Eddie could have you swooning with innocent tenderness one moment, to then have you gasping for breath the other, as his hand trails over your curves and his palm squeezes your breast. He lets out a soft groan every time, delighting in the way they feel heavier in their palm, way more sensitive as his thumb lightly fondles your throbbing nipple. 

“What say thee, my beloved sorceress, wanna make more magic tonight?” You can’t help but chuckle and blush over such a corny line delivered so seriously through that low growl coming right from Eddie’s chest. 

“You’re so stupid” You playfully push his face away from your neck just to egg him on, and he gladly takes the challenge, encasing you in his arms and kissing you all over like an overeager puppy. 

And what could you say? It takes a certain kind of magic to transform laughter into whines of pleasure, to cries of newborn life.  

That’s what you ponder, a month later, gazing tiredly from your hospital bed to the sight beside you. Eddie rocking your baby in his arms, with a grin as luminous as the moonlight.

He’s kissing Elizabeth’s delicate head, whispering the continuation of The Bard and the Sorceress.

[farfromstrange]

Sub!matt idea. Sensory deprivation.

It can be common as a way of control, heighten the experiance or even to help calm and sooth to blindfold your partner and make them rely on other senses. But for Matt he already has this to the extreme which can be distracting able to hear three blocks away when all he wants to focus on is you his world in this moment.

After a day of honestly tiring input he just asks for you to take over he somtimes does that wanting someone else to control him for a while and he trusts you. And trusts you enough to fuck you with his hearing either gone or reduced only able to feel, smell and taste you which is more then enough. Esspecially when you focus on the touch lavishing his body with sensory your hands never off him roaming, soothing holding. Your lips almost always on him kissing, sucking biting anything to elicit the sweet groans of him. He keeps a hand on your chest or throat not controlling but to be able to sense your rumbling groans and soft sighs feel the uptick in your heart rate as he focuses on you and only you

I am SO sorry that this took so long! And when I finally started writing it, I got carried away, so it took me two whole days to finish. But I wanted it to be good enough after I left you hanging.

On that note, your smutty thoughts make me feral!! Not gonna lie, I sat in my lecture the other day and I couldn't stop thinking about this, which is why this turned out to be over 4k words. On this page, we celebrate sub!Matt and all that comes with him!

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope I could do it justice <3

Sensory Deprivation | Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: The world tends to get a bit loud, but thankfully, you're there to help Matt focus.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), sub!Matt, use of "good boy", oral m!receiving, swallowing, use of earplugs (sensory deprivation), Matt's catholic guilt, slight blasphemy, (almost) coming untouched, mention & use of safe word/action

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: I'm so horny for this man, I can't function. Also, even though I did proofread this, I'm not sure if I missed any mistakes. My brain doesn't function as well as it used to. I'm sorry in advance.

More than anyone in this world, Matt believes he has to function, always, and without exceptions. He believes that he has to be useful, always doing something and never resting. His heightened senses make it impossible for him to turn his back on even the most minuscule cases of injustice, and he still beats himself up time and time again because he can’t be everywhere at once. He hears everything, smells everything, and feels the despair in the air, but in the end, he can’t take on the weight of the world all by himself. 

Ever since he met you, you have become his reprieve. You’re the haven he returns home to when everything gets just a little too much. When his senses are flooded and his heart is heavy. He crawls to you when he’s wounded, and he would crawl to you if he only had a few more minutes to live. You’re the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last person he thinks of when he goes to sleep at night, preferably holding you in his arms to make sure that you won’t slip away from him. In you, he has found someone who would never judge him for who he is. Someone who will always stand by his side proudly, and someone who will hold him when he’s at his weakest. And he has been hanging off the edge of his breaking point for quite some time, holding on for dear life.

You can tell Matt must have had an awful day from the second the key turns in the lock to your shared apartment. His feet drag over the wooden floorboards as he makes his way inside. You look up from your book. 

Matt takes a deep breath, dropping his bag by the door. His shoulders are tense. He folds his cane, places it aside, and removes the red glasses you’ve grown to love—but you don’t nearly love them as much as his beautiful brown eyes, the green specks so distinctive, you could recognize them anywhere.

“Rough day?” you ask. 

He opens the first button of his dress shirt with shaky fingers. “Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says. 

He hasn’t said hi to you like he usually would. Tonight seems to be one of those nights again. You know Matt well enough to pick up on the subtle clues in his behavior. He’s overwhelmed, possibly even anxious, and the weight he always carries on his shoulders is threatening to crush him. He’s walking a very thin tightrope, and he’s about to fall off. 

You place your book on the coffee table and straighten up. He rounds the couch you’re sitting on, his unfocused eyes searching for you. Your heartbeat resonates in his ears. Your breathing is regular. You’re calm. You’re his rock. You won’t let him drown, no matter how strong the current is that is dragging him down. 

Raising your eyebrows, you look up at him when he stops right in front of you. “No hello kiss?” you dare to ask. It’s a soft question, a little teasing, but he knows you mean well. 

Matt shakes his head. As soon as he breathes you in, he’s done for. His brain cells fry on the electric chair of his mind. His heart starts beating up to his throat. You’re so close yet so far away. You smell incredible; you must have showered after work, and then you sat down with your favorite tea and read your favorite book while waiting for him so you could have dinner together. You’re so considerate, you even used his scentless soap so all he would be able to smell is your natural scent. You consume him. The city moves into the background, and the bricks are about to fall off his shoulders. He’s close to collapsing, falling on his knees and begging you to take control to just make him forget, but he isn’t quite there yet.

A car honks in the distance. The night is calling for him. His hand clenches into a fist at his side while the other rests flat against his thigh. 

You slowly rise from your position. “Matthew,” you breathe his name like a siren. “What do you need?”

He sniffs. His fingers twitch. He has to go out, but he can’t. You envelop him in a bubble, and it makes him feel like he isn’t alone. Like he isn’t trapped. Like he can finally let go after holding on for so long. 

“Talk to me,” you say. 

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “There was so much noise,” Matt whispers back. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t focus. I’m trying to stay in control, but I can’t focus, and—” He breaks off into a shaky sigh. 

You chase his eyes; they’re glossed over. You reach out to tilt his chin in your direction. His eyes flutter closed. A stray tear slips down his cheek. It’s a tear stemming from months of exhaustion, physical pain, and emotional turmoil. He tried to push through, but he’s arrived at a point of no return. He’s breaking, and you’re the only one capable of catching him. 

After another deep breath, Matt’s eyes open again. “You’re here,” his voice is still barely above a whisper, but the smile that starts to grow on his lips speaks the language of relief. 

“I’m always here,” you answer. 

“You keep me sane.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

“I also know that, but it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is for you. If you need to be distant for a while and then blow off some steam, I’m okay with it.”

He shudders when your fingers brush his cheek. The faint bruise underneath his eye has turned green. You trace the injury with gentle fingertips. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he says. 

You smile back at him, knowing he can feel it, and you guide him toward your face. “You exist,” you tell him. “That’s enough for you to deserve me.”

His nose brushes against yours, but before his lips can meet yours, he stops. He inhales your scent. He feels your pulse under his fingers from where he’s wrapped them around your wrist. Your skin feels so soft against his. He’s no longer on fire. The world is no longer on fire. He can let go. He wants to know that it’s okay to let go, but the voice in his head is telling him to stop. The crossroads he finds himself at won’t let him leave in the direction he wants to go. 

You can feel his inner turmoil. He’s holding back. He always does so. You’ve been together for what feels like forever, and he still doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. What he needs. What he deserves. You told him to be primal when he needs to be. You told him to admit when you need to take over. He never does it out of his own free will. He waits until you force him into submission. 

Tonight should be the night he finally tells you. Matt needs to learn that his needs matter just as much as yours. His catholicism can go to hell for all you care. 

“I need—” He swallows. “I-I need t—”

“Go ahead,” you urge him. 

“Ugh,” the sound resembles a broken growl. And then, the barriers finally break. “I need you to take over,” he begs. “I need you to help me breathe again, sweetheart. Please. I need you.”

God, he sounds so wrecked. 

“You want me to take control?” you ask to clarify. 

He nods. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good boy. I can do that.”

Matt’s lips part in a weak whimper in response to your praise. Calling him a ‘good boy’ always has the same welcome effect. You don’t even have to look down to know that his cock is slowly swelling in his slacks. 

All the blood has rushed from his head and his beautiful rosy, stubbly cheeks to his groin. It doesn’t take much to turn him on, especially not in his current state—especially not if it’s you.

Hearing him admit that he needs you like this makes you feel a myriad of emotions. You want to take care of him, you want to love him, and you want to give him a moment of peace amongst the constant chaos, but there is also something so arousingly erotic about the way he begs for you to take control that makes your thighs clench. 

Often enough, he is the one taking care of you. Matt is a giver, not a taker. He always puts you first, but on some days, he just can’t bear it anymore. And you couldn’t possibly ask him to take charge in bed in his current state. It would break him. He’s a vulnerable man, whether he likes to admit it or not, and he can be as fragile as an ancient vase. You have to handle him with care on those days, which is all you intend to do as you guide him to your shared bedroom. 

You gently urge him to sit down on the bed. “Do you trust me?” you ask. 

His unfocused eyes flick from one side to the other. “Always,” he breathes out. 

“Good. Lie back for me. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

He would never doubt that. 

You climb into his lap, and finally, you kiss him. His lips part slightly in a desperate groan. Before he can slide his tongue into your mouth though, you pull away. His grabby hands are already resting on your hips, wandering, and wandering, and…

“Nuh-uh,” you tell him, taking hold of his calloused fingers and placing them on your upper thighs. “Patience, baby.”

“Please,” Matt begs. You love it when he begs. He’s completely putty in your hands. You could tell him to get on his knees and pray, and he would, no matter how blasphemous it may be. 

He’s holding onto you for dear life. You place his hand against the left side of your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat. He isn’t leaving you cold. He never does. Alone the sight of him is enough to make your thighs clench with need, but straddling him, you can’t get the friction you need. 

You reach for the nightstand to your right, opening the drawer. You know exactly what he needs. “Turn your head for me,” you murmur. 

Matt follows your instructions without questioning them. Finally finding what you were looking for, you retrieve the earplugs from the bedside drawer. This isn’t the first time you have used them on him, or he has used them on you. The specific brand renders you almost entirely deaf and renders Matt’s enhanced hearing almost to an entirely normal level.

You gently put the first plug into his left ear, then the other into his right. Before you push it in though, you ask, “Do you remember our safeword?” 

He nods. “Red,” he says. 

“Good boy. And when you can’t speak?”

“Tap your wrist three times.” His lips curl up into a weak smile. “Usually, I’m the one asking you that.” 

“Not tonight, you aren’t. May I put this in now?” You tap the earplug.

He nods again. It’s all the confirmation you need before inserting it, reducing his hearing completely. He lets out a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes, and you know he’s trying not to cry. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” you ask, cradling his cheek. His stubble scratches your fingertips, but it’s a welcome pain. 

He can still hear what you’re saying, feel the vibrations in your chest from where his hand is resting, and he smells you so much clearer now that he no longer has to listen to the city screaming at him in the background. Your arousal gets stuck to the tiny hairs in his nose, and he inhales sharply. Every nerve in his body is on fire. 

Matt moans. His tongue darts out, tasting the air. For a moment, he forgets that you just asked for his consent. Everything is so much more intense, yet it isn’t nearly enough. 

“Matthew,” you nudge him. “Talk to me.”

“Yes,” he whispers. At least he thinks he’s whispering. 

You smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and then you lean down to kiss him again. This time, you let him push his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, feeling you, and consuming all of you. He wants every ounce of you ingrained in his mind forever. 

His hands slide under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His focus is on you entirely. You help him take the pesky piece of fabric off, followed by his own. He’s suddenly so hot. 

Your teeth clash when you kiss. His cock is hard as a rock, pressing against his lower abdomen. You can feel it between your thighs. It must be painful for him. 

His kisses trail from your mouth, down your neck. He tastes the salt on your skin. Your pulse jumps as he drags his tongue over the vein. It’s a primal need. He needs to mark you. He needs to taste you, all of you, and make you his for all the world to see. An animalistic growl escapes his lips. His teeth dig into your skin. He nibbles just enough to make you moan, your chest vibrating underneath his hand. Matt doesn’t even hesitate to grab a handful of your breast, tugging at your sensitive nipple until it’s stiff enough to rival his aching cock. 

You throw your head back, your jaw slack, and he uses the newfound space to kiss down to your collarbone. You’re going to be purple and bruised tomorrow, but you don’t care. 

With a demanding grip on his hair that pulls at his scalp and causes him to groan against your shoulder, you push his head toward your chest. He isn’t in control, you are, and you know how much he loves to please you. 

Like a man starving, he sucks your nipple into his mouth. No, it’s not just your nipple. He takes as much as he can into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub only momentarily before he moves on to the rest of your silky skin. 

You moan. You have to let him know that you’re enjoying yourself. He feels the sound deep within your chest from where his hand is resting, and the way your breast moves slightly when you moan. Matt only becomes more eager when he feels and smells what he’s doing to you. 

The scent of you is addicting. Your arousal smells slightly sour, sometimes slightly metallic, but most of all, it is you. And when he tastes your essence on the tip of his tongue without even licking at your slick folds because you are simply that wet, it makes him feral with this insanely primal need to have you. 

He wants to spread you out before him and taste you until you’re coming all over his face. Though today, he is too weak to keep you restrained to the mattress. Matt takes what he can get, what you are willing to give him, and he does so eagerly, like the good boy that he wants to be for you. 

With the world silenced, he can focus on you. The way your heart is hammering against your ribcage, right against his palm. The way your chest heaves with every labored breath you take as he sucks and sucks at your breast until your nipple is beyond swollen. He can feel how smooth your skin is, smell the remnants of your body lotion that he sometimes steals so he can smell you everywhere he goes, and the slight sheen of sweat that has started to cover your body from head to toe. And he can smell your arousal so thick in the air, his cock jumps at the mere thought of sinking into your tight walls—of being completely consumed by you, body and soul. He doesn’t need to hear right now, all he needs to do is feel you. 

You know about his desperate urge to please. You know that, even while you’re in charge, he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. Matt is anything but selfish. But his selflessness doesn’t have a place in this bedroom tonight. 

As crazy as his mouth on your breasts is driving you into an oblivion of pure ecstasy, your walls clenching around nothing, you find it in yourself to pull him away. 

With his eyes hooded, he looks so delicious. His cock is still straining against his lower abdomen in his underwear. When you pull him away, his expression reads offense. You can’t help but snicker. 

“Did you think I’d let you make this about me?” you say just loud enough for the sound to reach through the earplugs. 

He exhales. “I was praying,” he says. 

Praying. He is too far gone to realize. There are sides to Matt Murdock you love more than others, and when he becomes blasphemous, it does things to you. This good catholic boy turns into mush when you just touch him, and then you are his God. You’re who he wants to worship, and he would pray to you, worship at the altar of your body, and drink your essence like holy water if it meant being all over you and inside of you. And you take your position very seriously. 

He trusts you. That is not a small feat. He trusts you with his body and soul, and he trusts you with the most vulnerable parts of him, be it in bed or merely a hug after a bad day. You know what he needs, and he trusts you to take care of him. He wouldn’t let just anyone do what you do to him.

“What were you praying for?” you ask him. 

“You,” he whispers. 

“You can have me, but first… focus.”

He told you he was losing focus because the world was far too late, so with the noise reduced, you will help him focus on something other than the world out there. 

“Feel that?” You kiss his mouth, and from there, you move down to his stubbly jaw. “Focus on that. Focus on me.”

Matt sucks in another sharp breath. While one hand still rests on your chest, the other comes to rest around your neck, feeling your pulse, feeling you, and his eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your luscious lips all over him. 

Your kisses trail down his neck. You pay close attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moans. His hips buck upward. He’s so painfully hard, his cock has already started leaking pre-cum into his boxers. 

Each scar, each indentation on his skin that reminds you of all the good he does at the expense of his health, you kiss. You trace your tongue over the healed wounds, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into yours. He’s so sensitive. 

His fingers involuntarily clench around your neck, but you don’t mind. He’s not choking you, he’s simply trying to hold on. You have established a safe word for a reason, after all. He can get carried away the same way you can get carried away.

You wouldn’t dare push him too far though. Not tonight. Not when he’s already this wrecked underneath you. You purposefully leave his nipples out of the equation and move further down his body. His abs tense under your tender touch. You can’t help but smile. 

And him? Matt feels like he’s floating. He can feel every kiss against his heated skin, your fingertips tracing his scars after you’ve so sensually pressed your mouth against them, and he can feel your every breath as you move downward. Every kiss leaves a series of shivers in its wake. He’s hot, yet he’s cold. He needs more, but at the same time, you are already close to driving him into overstimulation. 

His balls tighten. He can’t believe that the feeling of you is enough to make him want to explode. He knows that if you touch his cock now, he might as well come right then and there. It’s so much more intense like this when he doesn’t get distracted by the world outside. You are his world, and you are all he focuses on. 

You move further down until you reach his boxers. His arm is no longer long enough to keep his hand around your neck, so he moves it into your hair. It’s a silent warning, you suppose because he is close. You only kissed him, and he’s already so close to coming undone. You don’t blame him. He’s been so tense lately. 

You press a kiss to his hip bone before murmuring against his milky skin, “It’s okay.”

Matt whimpers. Your words make their way into his bloodstream. 

You pull his boxers down. The cold air hits his aching tip and the way his back arches makes you almost feel bad. You spit into your hand, but you make sure your palm is warm enough before you reach for his girth. 

The moment you touch him, he’s done for. “Sweetheart, I can’t–” he chokes out, but you shush him by placing your lips against his tip. 

You lick at the salty pre-cum. It tastes like him. You can’t deny that you missed this while he was so distant from you. This is as much for you as it is for him, that is something you can’t deny either. You’re a little selfish tonight. Just a little. 

His words of protest get swallowed by a needy moan, and his fist tightens in your hair. He’s not going to last long. 

Matt is not one to come early. The guilt swallows him faster than you can swallow his cum, which is why he always holds himself back. Tonight though, you won’t let him torture himself for your pleasure. You hate it when he does it. 

“Ugh!” the moan comes from the depths of his chest. “Fucking–God!”

You take him into your throat as far as you can without gagging, and what you can’t take, you wrap your hand around. He’s so thick, and he’s so incredibly big—you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. But God, he is so beautiful with his head thrown back, brown eyes squeezed shut, and that little drop of sweat dripping down his temple. It’s lewd, it’s erotic, and it makes your thighs clench. 

All of his reservations vanish when you take him all in. Your throat is tight, but you’re enthusiastic. Your tongue traces the vein on the underside of his cock, moving back up to the overly sensitive head. Your hands cup his balls. Every time you go down on him, Matt swears he can feel heaven reaching its hand out to him.

He grips your hair a little tighter, his other hand tangling in the sheets. He’s so close. He twitches, painfully so. And when he comes, he instinctively pulls your head upward so you won’t choke. His hot cum spurts down your throat, and you have no choice but to swallow. 

You surprise both yourself and him when you fight against his hand and force yourself down far enough so that your nose brushes the base of his cock, and you gag. 

Your throat is so tight and hot that it drags his orgasm on for eternity. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. His heart is racing out of his chest as if it has somewhere to be. The fire ripples through him, the inferno turning into a dangerous explosion that tears his nerves apart, putting them back together just to tear them apart again. He feels as though the skin is falling off his very fragile bones, and his muscles collapse in on themselves. 

Matt can’t breathe. When he finally manages to untangle his hands from your hair, he lies there. The blood in his ears is obnoxious. He can’t hear. He can’t see. And suddenly, he can’t even feel anymore. He doesn’t exist. Reality slips away into a moment in time. Now, he’s dying. It feels like he is dying. 

You pull off his cock, catching your breath. His cum trickles down the corner of your mouth. You wipe it away. Pressing a kiss to his hip bone, you look up through your lashes. At first, he looks blissed out, but his expression quickly changes. 

He can’t talk. You take his hand. “Matt,” you coax him. 

Not even his chest is lifting in time to accommodate his heavy breathing. His body is shaking as every ounce of stress falls off his shoulders, and his nerves fall victim to the inferno that is still wreaking havoc inside of him.

He taps your wrist three times. 

“Okay,” you murmur. You quickly climb back up his body. 

“Out,” he manages to tell you, weakly pointing to the earplugs. 

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You pull the earplugs out as fast as you can. Matt’s arms wrap around you, searching for a lifeline, and he pulls you against him.

“Shhh.” You cradle his head in the crook of your neck. 

You hold him like this for a while. You hold him against you tightly, gently, as if he is the most fragile thing you have ever held. 

Eventually, his breathing returns to normal. His heart starts to slow down. His fingertips no longer dig into your back as desperately as they have before. He’s just content now. 

You press your lips to the crown of his head. “You okay?” you dare to ask. 

Matt takes a moment before he nods. He leans back slightly. “Thank you,” he breathes. 

“For what?”

His lips curl into a tired yet satisfied smile. “For helping me focus.”

You smile back at him. “My pleasure,” you say, and you lean down to capture his lips in a loving kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“And I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock.”

“Oh, you love me that much, huh?”

You giggle, “Shut up!” before you pull him in for another kiss. 

For now, he needs to catch his breath and pick up the pieces you shattered by giving him this orgasm, but you know that once he does, it is going to be a long night for you. And you won’t be able to find it in yourself to complain. Not that you want to, anyway.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617

[dollkisses05]

In my dreams there is a man who loves me the way I love

[fantasykiri5]

I’m a little sick of how Lizzie’s death is just being made about Jimmy and the canary curse now so.

How about writing about how it was a freak accident. How much more tragic it was that it was in fact an accident.

She wasn’t expecting it. Nobody else was expecting it. Half the server laughed. Some of them died not 10 minutes later. I’d like to think she got to laugh at them in whatever afterlife they’re stuck in till the end. Or cuss them out a bit. Or both.

She didn’t have any allies. A couple shaky truces, but no real allies. She didn’t get to take revenge on Scar (for the many, many, times he wronged her.) or anyone else really.

She died without turning in her second red task. She’d completed it. She wanted to take out Scott before she turned it in. She died.

Scott was this close to falling off the ledge after her first couple hits. His feet were practically off the edge. If you think hard enough about it you can see the pebbles and dust crumble away as he dances the edge of the cliff, just pixels away from her completing what she set out to do. Something she set out to do largely for fun. It wasn’t in her task to hurt Scott. Scott brought gifts to her party after showing up late, he wronged her but there were many who wronged her tenfold. She was going to kill Scott because her husband asked, and she’d just hit him over the head with rocks so she might as well. She kept doing it for fun. She was red. She might as well. Maybe everyone who didn’t come to her party would fear her a little then.

Maybe you should write about how Lizzie lived in a pumpkin house, had a whole pumpkin patch, was one of the two people who found the pumpkins first with gem, and all it would have taken for her to not die there would have been to wear one?

Maybe you should write about how if she’d looked just a fraction to the left or right she wouldn’t have looked at the enderman? How if she had reacted with the enderpearl a few seconds earlier she could have made it back up? How she only thought to throw it because she started taking damage as she sunk into the bottom of the void? How the only reason she didn’t was because she wasn’t expecting it?

Maybe you should write about how she wasn’t expecting it.

Lizzie wasn’t expecting it.

[nikkisbread]

posting this before i decide to delete this blog because i wanted everyone to see them

(i just noticed that i was drawing bible yaoi when i tried to explain lucifer's snake tongue to my girlfriend without knowing anything about the bible)

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steddie's kid, let's call her Lizzie, got Steve as her teacher, walks into class.

Lizzie: Hey, dad.

Student: You're not supposed to call him that.

Lizzie: But he doesn't like it when I call him mom.

Eddie: *who's the music teacher walks by* You tell him, Lizard.

Lizzie: Papa!

Same student: Oh my god! Is that what Lizzie stands for?

Eddie cackled all the way down the hallway while Lizzie slapped a hand to her face.

Lizzie: It's Elizabeth. You dingus.

[lovelikethemovies13]

dating rafe cameron headcanons

rafe is very protective over you. all the guys in the outer banks know that you're his girlfriend, they wouldn't even try to flirt with you

he takes you out on the nicest dates. you go to all the best restaurants, beaches, and parties

rafe will buy you anything you want. he goes all out with gifts. he's spent thousands of dollars on you

you often spend hot summer days on the beach or on his boat together

he wants to be the best version of himself for you. he stops doing anything you don't like the second you tell him to

rafe takes you on motorcycle rides all around town and to his family's properties

you love hanging out with sarah and wheezie. even rose likes you

he loves to tease you just for the fun of it. but when anyone else tries to mess with you he gets mad

he texts you all the time. he can't stand being away from you. if you tell him you're going somewhere, he'll probably end up joining you

rafe will take you to any concert you want to go to. he makes sure that you get tickets to see your favorite artists even if he isn't a fan of them

he loves it when you stay over at his house. you basically live there at this point

you like to help wheezie and sarah play pranks on rafe. he can never get too mad about it when you're involved

it took time for him to open up to you but once he did you two were more connected than ever

he has photos of you everywhere. in his room, on his phone, in his wallet