#to me and to my friends i think its fairly obvious i like him. so hes either being polite or hes just not into me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelseeebe · 9 months

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on my knees (for you).

a/n: more virgin!eddie tales WOOO!! i just can’t shake this little pathetic man and i want to write him being so down bad for ever and ever. thinking of some steddiexreader that includes the little virgin boy too…

this is a continuation to seven minutes in heaven but really can be read on its own, it just mentions events that happened in the first fic.

18+. smut. mentions of weed. eddie being horrifically pathetic again. no mentions of y/n.

eddie’s sure you’ve pavlov’d him.

his cock springs into action the second you appear. and see that wouldn’t be a bad thing except for the fact that he sees you multiple times a day, in class or around campus and it makes him look like a dirty perv.

even now, he’s sat trying to kill it off as you sit next to him eating your lunch. thigh brushing against his every now and again and his mind is going wild. he’s trying to think what would happen if he just lifted you onto the table and fucked the shit out of you right here.

well, in all actuality, he’d probably last all of about ten thrusts before busting a nut and subsequently dying of embarrassment. maybe it’s not wise.

the thing is, now you had this little arrangement with each other, his erections had been ramped up to level ten. and he solely blames you for that, by the way.

he’d never known someone to be so eager all the time. you’re like a fucking rabbit. tearing at his clothes the minute you’re alone already soaking your little panties. eddie had debated swiping some last time he was over but had decided against it at the last minute which he sorely regretted the second he got home.

it had mostly just been a lot of you riding him in an attempt to get him to last longer than just a few minutes so you hadn’t really.. experimented much. he didn’t mind though, getting to stare at your tits bouncing in his face as you fucked yourself on his cock? how could he complain?

your fingers wrap around his knee, leaning in to his ear, ‘i’m free for the next two hours.. what about you?’ ever so slowly traipsing your fingers higher, his cock jumping to attention. not here. please not fucking here.

he’s got steve harrington sat opposite and really does not fancy having to explain to him as to why he’s this hard at lunch time.

it wasn’t like it was a matter of life or death but it was just easier to keep doing this without everyone knowing. because then it becomes a thing and nobody wanted that. eddie’s sure at least some people have gathered what’s happening. especially argyle who had woken up rather confused to find you spooning him on your tiny couch, but had just let out a tiny bro? and fallen right back to sleep.

‘i-i have class,’ tentatively placing his hand on yours to stop it ascending any further. eyeing the other participants at the table. oh fuck. steve definitely knew. looking over with a slight glint of humour in his eye, waiting until you re-emerged from eddie’s ear to say something.

the stupid smug prick. he probably couldn’t wait to humiliate eddie in front of all your friends. then he’d swoop in with his blonde highlights and tinted strawberry lip balm. he couldn’t stand it.

surely you weren’t interested in that? really, eddie is the complete opposite of whatever the fuck that is and there’s no way in hell you’d continue to fuck him if you weren’t a fan.

‘skip class for me?’ you whisper into his ear. for me. for me. fuck. he’d do anything for you. you could’ve told him to flip the table so you could fuck right here and he would’ve.

his breath hitches in his throat but he nods quickly, squeezing your hand and dipping his head low. the bulge in his jeans was fairly obvious at this point but maybe if he got up quick enough no one would be able to tell.

your hand vacates his leg, leaving a burning sensation in it’s wake. you’re shoving your shit into your bag, standing from the shared table. oh you meant now. while over your friends were still here. you were going to walk off together. to your room. oh god. that wasn’t obvious, was it?

‘where are you goin’?’ steve asks, watching intently when you jab at eddie’s shoulder to make him move. he does immediately, grabbing his back pack and determining just how he can slide out of here without showcasing his hard on to the world.

‘we’re going to smoke.. that alright with you?’ you remark, hands poised on your hips. eddie loved it when you were like this. his heart racing faster every time you scolded him or pouted those pretty, plump lips his way.

‘sweet, i’ll come!’ argyle sits up straight, awakened by the mention of weed. of course.

‘no,’ you bark, getting fed up of waiting for eddie to stand up and instead grabbing his collar, yanking at the denim, ‘sorry, closed invitation,’ wiggling your eyebrows at the long haired boy.

this elicits a chorus of ooohs from the table as eddie finally slides from the bench, turning immediately to follow your lead. he felt like a massive loser following you around. if you got him a leash and told him to get on all fours he would. and he likes think that that’s understandable.

‘oh my god they’re so annoying,’ you hush, his legs rushing to catch up with your irritated strides. did he look like such a lost dog to other people? not that he cared much.

‘i know.. it’s steve,’ he replies, realising that there was probably too much venom in that response to pass it off as something casual. yeah, maybe he was still a tiny smidgen jealous that you two had such natural chemistry. he is human after all. anybody would be.

‘he’s an ass but it’s all of them, so nosy,’ you chuckle, linking your arm with his now that you’re out of view of your prying friends.

he had wondered if you were ashamed of him, or to be seen with him at least. it was understandable, you were literally smoking hot and he was.. a pathetic little nerd who was completely obsessed with you. but to stand up and quiet openly lead him off to your room in front of everyone, maybe you weren’t.

‘you’re not like.. ashamed to fuck me, are you?’ regretting it the instant it came out of his mouth. he didn’t want to know the answer really. and even if you were, he wasn’t going to complain. it’s not like girls were falling at his feet, let alone girls as pretty as you.

‘no!’ you hit his arm, expelling the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, ‘eddie be serious, it’s not like they don’t all know anyway,’ rounding the corner to your house.

he had snuck in a multitude of times over the last few weeks, in fact it was every day at this point. running up the stairs past nancy’s room, thinking how much easier it would be if you were on the ground floor. then he might be able to shuffle through your window and back out in the early hours.

you fumble for your keys, knowing that the house would be empty at this time and quite proudly let him in the door. he doesn’t reply to your answer because he had assumed that the pair of you were successful at being incredibly sneaky.

‘do you have a problem with it being a secret?’ you ask, the door slamming shut behind you.

oh god no. even if he did, he’d never tell you in fear of ruining it all. the only thing he wanted to do was to rub it into steve’s annoying face. ha ha. this massive loser had gotten into your pants before he had. well, at least he thinks.

‘no,’ it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, which he chastises himself for straight away. if he had half the confidence any normal person had, he would’ve stopped this conversation in its tracks. shoved you back against the wall or something and shut you up with his mouth.

‘no?’

‘yeah, no,’ he repeats, sounding much more assured in himself.

‘good,’ you mutter and he notices the glint in your eye, hints of a smirk beginning to appear. he blinks and you’re stood before him, eyeing up his lips. his jeans had just got a hell of a lot tighter.

isn’t it crazy that someone’s eyes could have that affect on someone? or actually, how just the sheer presence of them in the room could have someone stumbling over their words.

‘i.. don’t care at all,’ staggered breaths as he’s backed up against the wall, shoulder blade hitting into one of the framed pictures on the wall. he wants to yelp at the pain but instead keeps his eyes solidly on yours.

he’s been practicing you see. watching any and all videos he could find of how to be a dominant man alongside copious amounts of porn and had gathered a bunch of mens help magazines. they were supposed to teach him how to be more strong willed, to flip the upper hand over to him.

except, they’d really done nothing at all. well actually, he’d now discovered that his hand was no longer sufficient compared to the earth shattering orgasms you’d given him. if there was a way for him to bottle that feeling, he’s sure that it’d be more addicting than heroin. probably make more money, too.

‘shall we go upstairs?’ you ask, eyelashes fluttering. yes. god yes. he’s desperate to get upstairs and into your room so he can disappoint you for five whole minutes this time.

‘yes.. yes please,’ his chest rising and falling rapidly. everything he had practiced had gone to shit the second you’d touched him. brilliant.

you simply smirk, grabbing his hand to lead him up the stairs the exact same way you had the last five nights of this week.

shoving him into your bedroom and kicking the door shut behind you. you’re ferocious with it. and he wonders if you needed him as badly as he needed you. he just longed to be inside of you or next to you or just in the same room as you. he needed that feeling pumped into him intravenously.

you’re on him the second the door’s shut, grabbing at his chest, his shirt and his pants all at once. pushing him back towards your unmade bed with such urgency that he stumbles, pulling you on top of him. your lips are everywhere, pecking at his jawline and his neck. going over the violet markings you’d left previously. he was embarrassed about them at first but had quickly learned to appreciate them and the fact that you weren’t afraid to mark him.

you’re shuffling out of your jeans already, kicking them off of your ankle as you rest your knees either side of his thighs. he only notices because the frilly lace waistband of your panties catches against the button on his jeans. are these what you wear normally or is this something you did for him?

a low moan is pulled from his throat when your skilful fingers unbutton his jeans and make their way onto his rock hard cock. did you paint your fingernails for him too? the shimmering violet looked so good wrapped around his cock. he’s sure any colour would as long as it was on your hand.

‘always so hard for me, aren’t you?’ you mutter against his neck, still fondling his sensitive balls. his toes curl in his socks, keeping both feet firmly on the floor in an effort to ground himself.

there’d been a few instances of him cumming.. prematurely. and by prematurely he means, the second you touched him. he blames those times on the weed though. it was the only reasonable explanation.

‘s-sit on my face,’ he blurts out, unaware of what dark hole that had come from.

your eyes narrow, gazing down at him with your mouth hung open. that was definitely the wrong thing to say. he’d seen it in this one video and had started salivating at the thought of your pillowy thighs wrapped around his ears.

eddie hadn’t quite been able to make you cum yet. like, he was certainly making progress and you’d gotten close a couple of times but you had ultimately had to get yourself off. which he loved to watch.. he just wanted to be involved. he lived in pure amazement at how you just seemed to get there so quickly. sometimes it wasn’t even a minute with your hand between your thighs and you were whining and writhing around. how?

‘eds.. that’s- are you sure?’ eyeing him cautiously. why didn’t you just trust him? he’s pretty confident he had the technique down, ashamedly having practiced on his hand one night. yeah, that was awkward.

and the erection it had given him was too.

‘i’m sure.. please,’ he had figured out that as soon as he begged for something, he pretty much got it. maybe you had a fetish for pathetic men or something but all he had to do was plead a little and you were pouncing on him.

‘do you even know-,’

‘-yes i know what to do,’ he barks a little hastily. at least now you’d either punish him or would listen to him. either was fine.

you eyebrows fly up your forehead and he thinks for a second that he’s really in the shit. his cock jumps at the thought of you slapping him again or even better, wrapping your hand around his neck like you’d done the other day. now that really got him going.

‘okay.. but if it’s too much let me know,’ lifting yourself from his waist and shuffling upward towards his head. he’s drooling just thinking about it. wrapping his arms around the backs of your thighs just as the man in the video had. he could keep you in place perfectly like this.

‘come on,’ he sighs, watching as you slide your underwear down and off to the side, stopped just before his eager, salivating mouth. everything he had practiced came down to this very moment and he was more than ready to show you what he’d learned.

‘you’re so bossy now.. i don’t like it,’ frowning down to him, hand coming to hold onto your headboard. he had hoped that you’d pull on his hair again but was for sure not going to ask. ‘remember to tell me if it’s too much.. slap me or something, i’ll know,’ biting down onto your bottom lip.

he nods quickly, eyes sliding away from yours to your pussy poised above him. now, he didn’t have any much experience with pussy but he’d say that yours was perfect.

without wanting to waste anymore time, he pulls you down onto his mouth, tongue immediately lapping at your folds. just the way he’d practiced. he didn’t really have any preconceptions of what pussy would taste like but he’s pleasantly surprised. he’d keep you here all day if he could, who needed to breathe anyway?

‘ho-holy shit,’ you remark, clawing at your bed frame for a little balance. he thinks that’s a good thing, eyes trained on your face to determine whether he was doing this right or not.

his tongue slides up, circling around your sensitive clit. yeah, that’s it. he can tell when your eyes roll into the back of your head, hips stuttering on his face.

‘jesus eddie,’ you breathe, just hearing his name tumble from your lips does fucking wonders for him. it’s all the encouragement he needs to continue his assault on your cunt.

he murmurs something in utter gratitude when your hand leaves the headboard to instead tangle into his hair. mouth vibrating against your pussy which is another hit. the gorgeous sounds of your moans fill the room, only slightly muffled by your legs over his ears.

it’s now or never. he has to pull out the big guns.

tongue leaving your clit to slide into your dripping hole. soaking his chin, his lips and probably his shirt in your arousal. he didn’t mind one bit. it’s like a badge of honour to know that he was responsible for the mess.

‘fuck,’ you hiss, fisting his curls as your eyes squeeze shut. eddie wants to scream when your eyes roll back, his fingers digging into your fleshy thighs.

oh my god. this was paradise. utter heaven. his heart swelling a little knowing that you were cussing fretting because of his mouth. you were so gorgeous from this angle. well, from all angles but particularly this one. looking totally blissed out on top of him, your lips opening to let out the most insatiable noises he’d ever heard.

your fingers yank at his curls, legs trembling around his flushed face, ‘i’m gonna- eds, i’m cumming,’ thighs clamping around his head as your hips roll forward on their own, trying to escape the overstimulation.

eddie’s desperate to keep you there, using his palms to hold you steady while he’s literally making out with your pussy. lapping at your clit, at the juices that now covered his face. except his stomach tightens, slowing his pace until he realises what’s happening.

oh shit.

his hips buck up into the air on their own and his boxers feel incredibly wet and sticky. he’s just came in his pants by eating you out. that’s ridiculous. utterly unbelievable that someone could be that tragic.

you were definitely going to laugh at him when you realised but there’s literally not a chance that he could hide that. he lets go of his grip on your thighs, moving one hand over his crotch as you shuffle off of him.

bastard. pathetic fucking bastard.

you hadn’t even touched him yet. how was he going to explain that? i’m just so sickly obsessed with you that i came in my pants. that didn’t sound like anything a normal person would say.

his eyes remain shut, laboured breathing as his mind attempts to take him out of this room and far, far away. it’s not fucking working. especially not when he can hear your panting next to him, the rustling of the sheets as you sort them out.

your eyes travel to his covered crotch with a confused expression until you notice the dark latch and it finally clicks. ‘did you cum in your pants?’ you exclaim and he thinks that this right here might just kill him off.

he nods quickly, point blank refusing to open his eyes. it was easier this way, at least his tears of embarrassment would be somewhat hidden. you could’ve just done the polite thing and ignored it. made up some excuse about going to class and then you could disappear from his life. god, why did you have to be such a-

‘that’s so hot,’ you continue, cutting his thoughts short at just the right spot. pressing your warm body into his side as you settle into bed.

‘what? no it’s not..’ brave enough to open his eyes to look at you, confusion plastered over his face. surely you were just joking. no woman in the history of the world would find his inadequacy hot.

‘who are you to tell me what i can or can’t find hot?’ prodding at his cheek, offence ribbed throughout your response.

this surely requires a marriage proposal or something of that nature, right? like, there’s not a possibility that he could ever let you get away now.

his lips twitch into a smile, taking his hand from his crotch to wrap his arm around your shoulder. the confidence was next level and almost unheard of but he had to show you a little appreciation after you’d just told him his premature orgasm was attractive.

‘don’t ever tell me what i can and can’t like again,’ you jokingly warn, resting your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

he speaks up after a few moments of silence, unsure of if you’re even still awake, ‘thank you.. for letting me do that,’ staring up at the ceiling. eddie thinks that he likes eating pussy. really likes it. especially yours.

you laugh sleepily, throwing an arm over his torso. it’s music to his ears. if making you cum was top priority, then making you laugh was a solid number two.

‘you don’t have to thank me every time,’ yawning into his chest. it’s technically still the middle of the day but if you were going to sleep, he sure as hell wouldn’t complain.

instead he’d lie there as still as he possibly could. kinda like when a cat falls asleep on your lap and you just can’t move for the rest of the day. he’s prepared to take that sacrifice.

he must’ve dozed off at some point too because he wakes up to a short knock on your bedroom door.

you’re dead to the world. completely unaffected by the sound, curled into the blanket. super adorable with your cheeks squished togeth-

the door knocks again and he jumps up, not wanting whoever it is to wake you. he hadn’t exactly thought of the consequences of answering your door. half naked at that.

‘oh! eddie.. wasn’t expecting you,’ nancy responds, eyebrows flying up her forehead. he’s such a moron. it would’ve been ten times easier to just ignore the door because now he had to explain why he was stood in his underwear in your room.

perfect.

‘oh yeah.. got too high.. had to sleep it off, yanno?’ chuckling awkwardly, desperately trying to hide behind the door. he hopes to the high heavens that his boxers aren’t stained. he’d either look like the worlds biggest creep or like the completely pathetic freak that he was. he wasn’t keen on either option.

only you could know just how pitiful he truly was.

her eyes travel to his bare legs and back up again, ‘uh huh.. well, we’re ordering pizza if you two want in..?’ giving him a tiny smile. she’s so polite that now he just feels weird. god dammit, they’re friends, his pasty little legs being out should not make him feel so exposed.

‘oh yeah uh.. i’ll ask her,’ glancing over to your very unconscious state on the bed. he wasn’t keen on the idea of waking you but did think that it’d be rather unforgivable if he didn’t. plus he was hungry.

‘okay.. don’t take too long,’ wiggling her eyebrows at him and disappearing off back downstairs. shutting your door with a quiet click.

fucking nancy wheeler and her politeness.

he slinks back over to the bed, shaking your shoulder ever so gently, ‘hey.. wake up,’ trying his hardest not to alarm you.

it works somewhat, your eyes springing open as you wake. blinking up at him from your blanket cocoon. he feels terrible but man’s gotta eat. it does occur to him now that it would’ve been a pleasant surprise to wake you with a pizza rather than just so abruptly.

‘wha- what?’ rubbing your tired eyes as you come to. you’re so cute like this, he wouldn’t mind waking up to this sight every morning. okay, maybe he’s getting ahead of himself here.

‘er.. they’re ordering pizza.. nancy asked me if you wanted anything?’ still standing sheepishly over your bed. his eyes trail down to where your thigh had poked out of the duvet, how they were keeping his face warm barely a few hours ago..

‘oh,’ you sigh, ‘yeah.. just cheese please,’ snuggling back up into the bed, ‘there’s a twenty on my desk, get whatever you want,’ closing your eyes again.

‘oh.. okay,’ he nods, even though you obviously can’t see him. deciding that this time, he’ll be more appropriately dressed to converse with your roommates. seemed like the right thing to do. plus he’s sure robin would definitely have plenty to say if he came downstairs half-dressed. and none of it good.

he ignores the money on your desk. as fucking if he’d let you pay for your own food after you had so graciously fed him earlier. not happening. like, ever again.

following the voices into your kitchen to find nancy and robin sat around the kitchen island, phone poised in her hand ready to go.

‘you’re in luck, i was just about to call.. what d’you want?’ robin asks, raising a singular brow. nancy had obviously filled her in on what had been behind your bedroom door.

‘just cheese.. please,’ ignoring how ridiculous the unintended rhyme made him sound.

‘is that for both of you?’ she looks on, a glint of something indescribable in her eye. he wishes he knew how to decipher women. you’re all so fucking complicated and weird. in the best way, of course.

‘uh.. yeah?’ looking on tentatively, unsure of what she could possible be implying.

‘she won’t share, better to get your own,’ she nods. oh. she was being nice. he’s sure there’ll be a catch somewhere.

‘oh right.. okay,’ he fumbles around in his pocket for his wallet, tossing a couple twenties onto the marble. maybe if he covered their food too, he’d get in their good books and would be welcomed back with open arms. he’s sure he could endure that.

pay for food and get magnificent pussy in return. seemed fair.

the two girls sit in silence until he gets to the bottom of the stairs and then robin pipes up once again, ‘will we be seeing you around here regularly, mr. munson?’

he pauses, staring back into the kitchen at the two girls. he’s not sure how to even respond. because actually, he’d been at your house every night this week, right under their noses. and if he were to hazard a guess, he’d be here most of next week too. and the next.

okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

‘uh.. maybe?’ he shrugs, chuckling nervously. robin’s eyes are like slits, staring him down. she’d always been rather intimidating and now was no exception.

‘hm,’ she nods, shooing him off back up the stairs, ‘you’re dismissed,’ still clutching onto the clunky plastic phone.

he disappears rapidly, not wanting to hang around to find out what else she was going to pry about it. eddie reckons that he’s good at secrets, but if he was truly pressed, he’s not so confident in his ability to keep quiet.

you’re awake when he returns to your room, still dozing in bed but awake. he slinks back in, grateful to be away from their prying questions. you’re so sweet like this. not that he didn’t also adore the bossy, demanding side of you but he appreciated the docile part too.

‘you didn’t take my money,’ you point out, frowning at him from the pillow. he shuffles over to your side of the bed, smiling sheepishly.

‘i wanted to pay.. to say thank you,’ he nods, fiddling with his belt loop. he’s aware that you had already told him to stop saying thank you but he truly had to express his gratitude somehow.

‘stop doing that,’ you frown, glaring up at him, hand appearing from the blanket to grab onto his shirt. ‘if i didn’t want to have sex with you, i wouldn’t,’ fisting the material to pull him closer to the bed.

eddie’s not the most sturdy, stumbling and ultimately falling on top of you, just about catching himself before his head smashes into yours. that’d look really good to the girls he was trying to impress if he gave you a black eye, robin would probably get the pitchfork ready to murder him.

you squirm beneath him but your smile says it all, still clasped onto his tee. you’re slightly intimidating like this, well, you were all the time. but especially like this. just mere millimetres away from his face, gazing up at him with those bright eyes. he’s sure they held the glow of a thousand suns in them.

he breathes out shakily, fully aware that his entire body weight was on top of yours, ‘yeah.. shit, sorry,’ far too mesmerised by your eyes to want to move just yet.

‘apology accepted,’ you grin, smashing your lips to his, hand still fisted into his shirt. it’s lazy and messy, tongue creeping into his mouth the second you get the chance.

eddie can feel your thighs move, spreading apart to pull him in closer despite the barrier between you. holy shit. he didn’t think he’d find this so incredibly hot. grinding against you between the blanket.

downstairs, robin and nancy share a certain look when they notice the faint knocking of your headboard against the wall. robin’s nose curling the second she realises just what was happening. feeling the instant regret of ever asking him if he was to be around more often.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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kvtie444 · 7 months

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✧.*SHES GOT A BOYFRIEND ANYWAY

A/N: wanted this to be a chris fic at first bc hes the type to steal ur girl but the public chose against it💔I have more plans for him tho dw xx

Summary: basically sex by the 1975 lolz

Warnings: smut lol, nsfwwwwww, cheating??!!

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Pull over," I grumbled, gazing out of the window. Leo, my boyfriend, and I had just had yet another argument on our way to a party. He had just started accusing me of cheating, which, well I was, though his own loyalty was questionable. I zoned out, drowning out the echoes of his yelling, only to be abruptly pulled back to reality by a sudden stop – we were at a petrol station.

I opened the door and stepped out, the cool air sending a shiver through my body, just wearing a mini dress. "Call me when you're done being a b-" I cut him off by slamming his door shut and headed toward the station's entrance without looking back, the distant revving of his engine signalling his departure.

Frustrated, I decide to reach out to the one person I know will get under his skin the most—Matt. Me and Matt had been hooking up on the low, but it was fairly obvious with the 24/7 flirting anytime we were near each other. I sit down on the curb as I press on his contact and call. After 2 rings he picks up. “hello?” he sounds rather surprised to be hearing from you out of nowhere.

Seating myself on the curb, I press on Matt's contact and make the call. After two rings, he answers, sounding surprised to hear from me so unexpectedly.

"Hello?" he says.

"Hey, can you do me a favour and pick me up, please?"

“Yeah of course, you okay? where are you?” he bombardes me with questions. "I'm at the petrol station by the high street. Leo's being difficult, so I decided to bail before we headed out," I reply. I hear his front door shut and the jingle of keys as he starts driving.

"I'll be there in a bit," he says, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. In a flash, his car arrives. I circle around and hop in. "Hey, thank you," I say in a soft tone, going in for a hug. He envelops me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his nose in my hair. "Anytime, thought you might need this" he replies, reaching behind him to the backseat, where he grabs his blue flannel button-up. I look up and smile at him. "You are the best," I say happily as he drapes the shirt around me, assisting me in putting it on.

"Can't believe he just left you here with nothing. The little dick" he mutters before taking a moment to appreciate me. "My shirt looks good on you," he smirks at me. I bite the inside of my cheek before giving him a smile, his cologne on the shirt sending me a wave of comfort.

As he starts to pull out of the station, I throw my head back, groaning. "These Converse are killing me," I whine. "Then take them off," he laughs at me, steering with one hand as he merges onto the main road. I breathe out a laugh as I remove my shoes, tossing them in the backseat. His eyes briefly glance down to my thighs before he places his hand on them.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and a swarm of butterflies flutters in my stomach. Glancing ahead, it dawns on me that neither of us mentioned our destination, but a familiar route to Matt's house unfolds, and I don't voice any objections.

His hand inches higher, his pinky finding its place beneath the hem of my skirt. Breaking the silence, he remarks, "Your little friend is delusional for not worshiping you and being a little bitch. If you were my girl, I'd treat you like a princess." ,the car still thick with sexual tension. I turn to look at him, only to find his gaze already fixed on me. His hand now lifts my dress whilst still driving one handed, and his fingers delicately play with the waistband of my thong. "And I think we both know that I fuck you better," he continues, pulling and snapping my waistband against my skin, causing my breath to hitch.

I merely hum in agreement, recognizing a recurring pattern of our conversations taking a sexual turn. His thumb traces circles on the crease of my thigh, as I’m sensitive to even the slightest touch, grabbing his wrist. "Please, Matt," I sigh, using both hands on his wrist in an attempt to pull him closer to my core.

"Please, what, baby?" he teases, smirking. "Use your hands," I whine, unintentionally bucking my hips up, yearning for his touch. "Good girl," he says, pulling my panties to the side and running his fingers through my folds. "Who made you this wet, hm?" he groans at my wetness, attempting to keep his eyes on the road. "You did," I reply, throwing my head back as he inserts his ring finger into me, skilfully pumping his fingers. "Fuck," he groans, hearing the slick noises coming from me as I moan softly. Adding another finger, I moan, "Fuck, Matt," grabbing onto the headrest behind me. He uses his thumb to rub circles on my clit, and I screw my eyes shut in pure bliss.

Suddenly, he withdraws, and I open my eyes, whining in annoyance at the loss of contact. His hand now on the handbrake, he turns off the engine. Looking up, I realize we've arrived back at the house. He opens his door without saying a word, and I readjust my underwear and skirt before following him inside. He takes my hand, and we head straight to his room.

As soon as we step inside, he presses me against the door, his hands never leaving my waist. Leaning in, he finally kisses me, the intensity quickly escalating. His tongue slips in shortly before he pulls away, leaving open-mouthed kisses from my cheek to my jaw and neck. I feel him start to suck as he mumbles phrases like "my pretty girl" and "mine."

In this moment, I don’t care about the hickeys ; everything is too euphoric right now. Rising once more, he kisses me, his hand gliding beneath my thigh, lifting me, and moving us to his bed. Tossing me onto it, he climbs on top, pressing himself against me, and tenderly kissing my neck while removing his shirt from my body. The intensity of desire overrides any inclination for foreplay. I reach down to touch him, feeling his already hard member. Swiftly, I lower his sweats and boxers as I subtly move my hips, allowing my dress to ascend. He cages my head between his hands, once again pulling my panties aside.

Positioning his tip at my entrance, he starts tapping it against my clit and gliding it up and down my folds, gathering my arousal. A shared moan escapes both of us as he gradually eases in, thrusting deliberately slow. "Faster, Matt," I whimper, prompting an immediate acceleration as his hips forcefully meet mine, creating a resonant slapping sound in the room. A stream of curses escapes my lips, as he watches himself moving in and out of me. His tatted arm shifts to my thigh, pushing it up towards my chest, achieving a deeper angle. Groaning as I tighten around him, his free hand moves to stimulate my clit.

"Whose pussy is this, baby?" Matt's groans against my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "Yours, Matt," I moan in response. A smile plays on his lips against the side of my face as he kisses my jaw. Pulling back slightly, he shifts his hand to my neck. "Mm, does your boyfriend ever make you feel this good?" he asks, his grip tightening around my neck. I moan as he keeps hitting my G-spot. "Answer me," he demands, his hold around my neck growing firmer. "No, he'll never compare to you," I moan. "Oh, fuck," he groans, increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

My legs grow weak as I tighten around Matt. "Matt, please, I'm so close," I whimper. "Taking me so well, let go for me, baby," he responds. I moan as I climax around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he releases inside me shortly after, muttering curses under his breath.

He pulls out slowly, turning over and leaning against the headboard. Pulling me up, he kisses my forehead while gently toying with my hair.

"I think you should break up with your boyfriend," he says, looking down at me. I gaze back into his blue eyes, no longer filled with lust but now a sense of love.

"I think so too."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #smut #Spotify

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pastafossa · 2 months

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Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. Matt was alone. You’d left him alone. It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen.

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that.

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close?

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might…

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again.

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes.

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them?

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back.

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon.

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on.

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now.

What you didn’t know was…

Why?

Why here?

Why these people?

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run?

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin.

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?”

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.”

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?”

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours.

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun.

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly.

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen.

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations.

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost.

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same.

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone.

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.

Matt was alone.

You’d left him alone.

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick?

Sympathy.

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself.

Protect what you might one day have.

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright.

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path.

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face.

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.”

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you.

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.”

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone.

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.” Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.”

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?”

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar.

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.”

No.

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again.

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime.

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given.

You were wearing one of his shirts.

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough.

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade?

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned.

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories.

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you.

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained?

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them.

Especially Matt.

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted.

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough.

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath.

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.”

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling.

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something.

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.”

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up.

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.”

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.”

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here.

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be.

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.”

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same.

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.”

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?”

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!”

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy.

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking.

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky.

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty.

“Jesus,” you whispered.

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel.

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.”

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be?

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more—

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest.

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours.

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory?

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer.

The stones.

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times.

Still nothing.

And something inside you… cracked.

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that…

You’d been loved.

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world.

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them.

You.

And he’d loved you with every part of him.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!”

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again.

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world.

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!”

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild.

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called.

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind.

You knew.

You… remembered.

“Always,” he’d said.

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread.

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt.

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back.

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen.

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.”

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence.

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere.

Red threads never lied.

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach.

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again.

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it.

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer.

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath.

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love.

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed.

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.”

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest.

“...D.”

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you.

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar.

“Leave me alone!”

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait.

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.”

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady.

Truth.

Could it really be you?

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm.

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him.

You loved him.

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name.

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.”

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.”

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.”

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath…

“Kiss me when you come back.”

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same.

Because all that was left was him…

And you.

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bluepallilworld · 3 months

Text

A Tear's Soul

Part 1: All is certainly well in this fine world

Mimosa barely had the time to register what was happening before he was warped elsewhere by his happy-go-lucky friend.

He was used to Lint’s instantaneous portals with how often he had been ambushed but the sensation never failed to be truly bizarre.

It felt like dipping your toes in lukewarm water then suddenly you were drenched and dry at the same time. And in a random place you did not ask to go.

The instant the shock runned out of his system, Mimosa whirled around and hit Lint’s head with the side of his hand.

“LINT, COME ON! Couldn’t this at least wait after breakfast? I’m hungry…”

Lint’s only reaction was to giggle so hard she toppled down on the wooden floor.

“Where would be the fun in that? If you really wanted that breakfast, you should have woken up earlier!”

“...You would just have come even earlier if I did that, wouldn’t you?”

She smiled and stood up, whistling and buzzing around.

The kid sighed and started looking around.

Where were they?

The floor was wooden and a little dusty, the walls were pretty bare except for some weird unrecognizable knick-knacks on shelves. The room was small.

“Whom closet did you zap us in?”

Lint tsked and wiggled her finger in front of his face.

“You’re really”, she pointed to a big dent in a wall, “not a good detective, uh?”

Mimosa stared hard at the dent. It looked a bit like a puppy’s face? It reminded him of when they played hide-and-seek with Mu’s at her second home and he just rammed his elbow so hard into a wall it damaged the wall. It didn't hurt but it left its mark on the house.

Wait.

He gasped at the realization.

“SINCE WHEN CAN YOU POP DIRECTLY INTO TODDH’S POCKET DIMENSION?!! I thought you couldn’t go farther than the entrance?”

He shook his friend hard in his barely contained excitation.

They were at Mu’s!!!

“Well, it took me a few tries. I’m not sure I’m welcome alone here anymore by the way?”

“Why did you teleport us here? I thought you’d wanted to go exploring or somethin?”

“...You told me you missed Mu and she wouldn’t come back for at least another week sooo.”

Mimosa hugged her. He did indeed miss his younger sister but he didn’t think it was that obvious.

“Eh, couldn’t have my best friend slash “half-brother-from-another-multiverse” mopping, now?”

He buried his head into her shoulder while she rubbed his back.

“We should get out of this closet and go look for your little princess, don’t you think?”

He nodded and pushed away the other to get to the door handle. He didn’t get that far as the girl shoved him away and opened the door first.

She runned out all while shouting:

“THE LAST ONE TO FIND HER IS WET NOODLE!”

And as he, for sure, didn’t want to be a wet noodle, the boy dashed at his turn and they raced through the long corridor, crashing into furniture and laughing their heads off.

Sadly, he tripped on one of his treacherous tentacles (a fairly common occurrence) and tumbled down quite fast with a yelp. His “friend” just snickered at his misfortune and disappeared behind a corner.

Aw, he didn’t want to be the wet noodle…

He plopped down against the floor, starfish-style, and examined his surroundings. He was still in a corridor. That house had too much of those.

He craned his skull around to examine the few doors he could see from this angle.

Among the very unremarkable doors, one stood out. It was white with flowers painted all over it. The skill of the painting varied a lot and those near the bottom were merely child scribbles.

The skeleton propped himself on his elbows and stared at the door, right-sided.

It was Mu’s room.

Maybe the pasta fate would not befall on him in the end?

The slats creaked despite his best attempts to be sneaky and he cracked the door open a smidge before peeking inside.

A small skeleton was sitting there, playing on the ground with a hoop. Quiet, she was making it roll harshly against the floor until it hit the wall and got launched back at her. She then caught it with the tentacle wrapped cozily around her throat and shoulders and began the process anew.

There she was.

He readied himself to call her when a weight on his head startled him.

“FOUND HER! I WON!”, shouted Lint from above.

How did she even do that, she was slightly smaller than him! That thought was one of the many that went through his mind as she leaped over leaning on his shoulders.

Back to the ground.

Mu looked at them for a second, nodded, then went back to her game, unbothered.

Lint danced, chanting “wet noodle, wet noodle”, looking rather pleased.

He weakly protested that he found her first to which he got the counter argument; he didn't announce it first so that was null and void.

Fair.

They spent some time together, each doing their very own stuff.

Lint was trying to improve her cartwheels (with various success) all while chittering about some story he half-listened to, she tried to coax them into leaving for an adventure a few times but didn’t insist for once so she kept doing clumsy cartwheels.

Mu continued her game, focused on it, Mimosa ignored the action's goal but she was fully entranced by it (despite glancing in his direction a few times, probably wondering about what he was doing).

He was cutting paper shapes with scissors and gluing those to pins he found in a box.

Once he was satisfied with the amount of paper shapes, he tapped gently on Mu’s shoulder to get her attention. She turned around and tilted her head before eyeing a notebook laying on the ground next to her.

“You don’t have to use your book if you don’t feel like it, I won’t ask complex questions.”

His mute sister nodded and gave him her whole attention.

He pointed at his work.

“Would you like it if I put some of these on your hat to keep company to your flower pin?”

Her eyelights grew two sizes before he even finished his sentence, she stuck her hands in the pockets on each extremity of the drooping bunny ears of her dark colored hat and excitedly moved up her arms, showing the paws design sewed on that side of the pockets.

“I’ll take that for a yes!”

Mu nodded so hard her hat would have flipped away if her hands weren’t still stuffed in.

He pointed to the paper shapes and asked her to point to the ones she’d like most.

She didn’t hesitate and picked anything vaguely flower shaped plus one that looked like a lemon (or an eye?). When he interrogated her on that choice, she just uncurled her tentacle, revealing the rest of her face and smiled.

“Ok, ok, sit there and don’t move.”

He started to stick the paper bits as carefully as he could and Lint joined him on the task soon after.

They did that for a moment, he had to stop Mu from wiggling too much a few times as she grew impatient and excited.

Once they were done and confident it would hold for long enough to be satisfying, they released the small monster and she all but ran to the mirror.

Watching her twirl around in joy released a special wave of warmth in his soul. Those moments reminded him how lucky he was to still have her, how lucky he was that Fancy and the one before him found her when she had been lost and how lucky they had been to be reunited during an unplanned playtrip.

He saw Lint watching him thoughtful in the corner of his eyes but he didn’t call her out on that.

However, when she turned her gaze back toward the mirror anew and her eyelights shrieked to almost pinpoints.

Uh?

He turned his head to discover an absence of any twirling sister and shot up.

“Where?”

Something poked his shoulder.

Lint was in front of him.

He turned around.

Nothing.

Lint was glaring at random corners.

Poc.

He looked to his left then more thoroughly to his right.

Then he was promptly yoinked from the ground by something above.

“AH-”

A hand stopped his shout and he looked at his aggressor’s face.

…Nip.

The dark-boned-mixed-rabbit-skeleton grinned at him and made a sign to keep quiet. He reluctantly nodded and fred his mouth.

Nipal was a strange fellow that liked far too much scaring others in his opinion, but it came with the fact he had been born from a bad dream he guessed.

Other than that, he was pretty okay.

And also holding him with a leg while crouched on all four on the ceiling.

Nip giggled silently and he watched Lint getting more and more agitated on the ground.

She was looking everywhere for them and despite glancing up a few times, Nip always moved just in time to hide from her sight.

The demon was talented in this stuff.

Nip moved towards a wall and put him on the top of a closet using only one floating hand. Mu was already waiting there and looked absolutely giddy at the event.

Nip went back to tormenting Lint and one of the puffy ends of his bunny ears almost smacked him when he turned.

Hm. Mimosa got himself comfy to admire the chaos.

He shrugged.

That might as well happen.

Nip played for another five minutes at pocking the distraught girl running around on the floor before leaping behind her, shifting his form to a huge furry rabbit monster and caught her from behind in a hug.

Lint screamed bloody murder and Mu drew a line in her notebook. He peeked at the page… 15 was scribbled next to a vaguely bunny shaped scribble and a bit fat zero next to three bows. It looked like she had been keeping score.

He giggled. Hopefully Lint won’t see that.

This one was now hitting and biting the smug adult -to be confirmed, Nip always lied when they asked his age.

After a bit of shifting and a whole lot of being picked up and scaling things for no reason, they all finally ended up all sitting in the center of the room.

Nipal Twees, once again in his more regular shape, clapped his hands together.

“That was amusing, how are you guys doing?”

He did not wait for their answer as he wiggled his left ear, distracting little Mu that was sitting on his lap.

“Now, kids, Toddh went out to get Fancy. Boy is taking a bit long to bring back groceries.”

Where was he going with that?

“...Kitchen’s free, who wanna bake? Badly of course!”

They answered their agreement, loudly.

What a good idea, he was famished.

And like that, they made a beeline for the kitchen and promptly started to try baking… something…

They didn’t have any recipe and Fancy’s cookbook was creepy so they boycotted that idea.

Each busied themselves with a task they thought would help making… something?

The result was barely palatable and the kitchen was very close to what someone would consider “ruined”.

He would not talk about the general state of their outfits. The aprons they put on had been near useless in keeping the mess at bay.

They made a game of trying to eat the biggest part without making faces. Nip was quickly banned from playing as he was unbothered by the taste and even claimed to enjoy it.

The sound of keys in a door made them all freeze.

Toddh was back.

annnnd that's the end of part one 🎶

*******************************************************

Shine, Malignance, Bow/Butterfly and Calligraphy (mentioned) belong to @creative-firebug <3

The rest is mine owu

Tagging as requested: @shinechermont

(if someone desires to be tagged in the other parts, tell me (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) )

👉👈tagging @zu-is-here because the whole idea of that project was born because of a discussion I had with her (no I'm not telling what it was about) (zuz tell me if you want me to tag you in the other parts or not :D)

bonus:

I thought it'd be fun to put a link to the first time I put Mimosa in a comic (almost 4 years ago), I have evolved a bit

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kookidough · 2 months

Text

analysing vance hopper because he lives in my head 24/7 !

tw for like. literally everything the black phone covers!!!!!!

also there's some special effects gore rather far down in the post idk just i feel like i should warn you just in case

okay so before anyones like "but bee!!!! he only had 6 minutes of screen time in a 102 minute long movie!!!!! he was only on screen for 5.8% of the movie!!!!!" and to that i say i Know it was a real tragedy so a lot of this will be built on personal interpretation and subtext and stuff said behind the scenes and whatnot

so firstly i wanna rot about what his childhood/upbringing might've been like..... i havent quite decided on something definitive but i think we can take one look at his character and realise that is glaringly obvious he had a bad childhood, in one interview the actor that plays him (brady hepner) says "the background i had set up for vance is that the reason he was the way he was is his home life was fairly difficult, you know maybe his dad was either not there for him or he wasn't supportive, maybe he was fairly abusive, and so that creates a hair trigger sense of rage in vance" hair trigger meaning his patience is literally as thin as a strand of hair it does Not take a lot for him to snap

there more to it after that which i'll get into soon but yea thats the gist of it it's clear he had absent/neglectful/abusive parents and that would certainly contribute to why he's so angry all the time, maybe acting so explosive was the only way to get his parents' attention, either good or bad, so he just internalised that. obviously rage and anger issues like vance's lead to violence (not in all cases but in his case it does) and i think a neglectful and abusive upbringing would obviously expose him to more violence than a normal childhood would, therefore normalising it and desensitising him to it, whether he's seeing it play out in his own home and/or on television or something like that (because i doubt his parents would be the kind to monitor what content he's viewing)

i feel like he has little control over his life and that only adds to his anger, which in his case leads to a fight when his buttons are pushed too many times. i think he probably takes great pride in being the toughest in town and whatnot and winning fights and being perceived as strong and scary is good to him and helps him regain control/power, something he doesnt have at home. the rest of the quote from the interview i mentioned earlier states "this pinball machine could have been the only thing that he has in his heart that's like, good, like 'holy cow i did this, i set the score,' so when someone comes along and messes it up for him, it takes away the only thing that he has. i think that that's when he switches to a 'now you're gonna pay for that'"

similar to what i said about fighting, the pinball machine and his high score is something he has control over and its an important part of his reputation/image like. hes literally pinball vance ! and the whole thing about that high score being the "only thing he has in his heart that's good" implies that hes. well. pretty shit at everything else, which is pretty much canon if you remember that gwen said vance was held back twice in school. makes me think that while he's not the brightest in school he's certainly street smart

moving onto ermmmmm him getting kidnapped era because im sure youre wondering "well bee if he's so street smart then why did he get kidnapped" so may i raise two theories (this is. literally all i got and its not even concrete, me and my friend gray (@staggersz) tried to figure out how this could even happen and this is the most plausible thing we've got. so shoutout to him real quick he has had to deal with me being unnormal about vance for like a year and a half thanks king couldnt have done all this without my rotting buddy)

so either he got taken by surprise (most likely option) or vance's trust was gained first via getting given quarters at the pinball machine and small talk and shit like that but this is unlikely because i feel like it'd take a loooooong time for someone like vance to trust a some random stranger adult man when he clearly has issues with trusting and respecting people older than him and people with authority (e.g. cops, his parents, or school officials) so yea being taken by surprise would probably be the most realistic option, i always see people on tiktok being like "how did the grabber kidnap vance hes so strong!!!!" dude its a 15 year old boy against like. a 45 year old man who's already claimed two lives its really not gonna be a fair fight here

before i get into the next part i wanna quickly address a theory i absolutely Hate and it is so easily disproven and that is the theory that vance is the grabber's son or is related to him in some other way and i see it Far too often on tiktok and i HATE it. from what ive seen this all stems from his dream sequence where he kicks open the fence to albert's house and, presumably, goes inside after being dropped off by the police after the grab n go fight. idk if some people just straight up didnt realise this but clearly in real life he is going to his Own House??? in the dream it's only albert's house because this is how he chooses to show gwen the house she's trying to find her brother in, the house that he himself was killed in??? i hate the theory i hate it sm

the dream sequence itself is interesting though as the ghosts seem to only be able to conjure up what theyve seen in real life (like how bruce can picture the outside of the house and show that to gwen but the house number is all flipped and not right beause he doesnt know it) so vance being able to picture the house and the number and the gate and every detail would imply that hes seen it before, but im going to explain that away as either he got out once before like with finney's failed escape attempt, or the house is most likely on the route he walks to school or the grab n go or something and he hasnt actually been there prior to being kidnapped

mini rant over now onto being kidnapped i guess, so i used the missing posters to try and estimate a timeline of how long each ghost boy would've been in the basement for (although the missing posters are notoriously unreliable for details such as looks/height/age/etc, the dates seem to all line up). so we know the order is griffin, billy, vance, bruce, robin, finney, right?? if we use the poster date then billy was taken on may 4th, 1976, a month and two days after griffin was taken (april 2nd 1976). vance was taken on september 23rd 1977, almost a full year later (stay with me im going somewhere with this), and after that bruce was taken on july 18th 1978, again almost a full year later

its established in the movie that the grabber stalks his victims before he takes them (canon because we literally see the van watching finney and gwen as they walk home from school early on in the movie) but we dont know how long he does this for since griffin/billy and robin/finney were taken such short distances apart and then the others were taken such long distances apart, also it's possible he could stalk his next victim while the previous one is still alive, etc etc lots of confusing factors, but if i've done the maths right then the absolute maximum time vance could've spent down there is 9 months and 25 days, or 298 days, so erm . let that sink in !

howeverrrr in the movie gwen states that vance went missing "last spring" and september is definitely not in spring, meaning he could've been down there for a year or even longer. an explanation or excuse i could think of for the movie and the missing poster saying different things (other than the missing posters being known for some areas being wildly inaccurate) is that maybe he was taken in spring but wasnt labelled as officially missing until september, when he was properly linked to griffin and billy's similar disappearances and the mysterious grabber? i can imagine it'd be very easy for law enforcement, especially in the 70s, to dismiss someone like vance as a runaway until they get solid evidence that he was taken. idk though thats just my personal excuse / angsty headcanon for the difference in information

not sure what exactly killed him but we do hear from vance himself that "he took his time with me" so it was probably blood loss from a variety of injuries, if we look at him in his ghost scenes we can see his hair is absolutely covered in blood which indicates head injury, he clearly has a broken nose and bruising around his eyes as a result of it, he has these deep cuts on his abdomen area (apologies for the image quality but i believe they're like. sfx pieces you would wear under clothing)

and he also has just like. minor bruising (like the fingerprints on his arm) and other random blood splatters on his face and neck (assuming the blood down his neck comes from wherever he was bleeding on his head) so Yeah overall very unpleasant way to die obviously

okay now the part thats actually in the movie and it only took me 13 paragraphs to get here: vance as a ghost!! first thing i wanna point out is appearance wise i just want to say that when he's a ghost he's missing his choker and that fact Pains me. anyway personality-wise i feel like being violently murdered has, understandably, kicked his rage up to like. the highest level it could possibly go. he's insanely snarky and downright rude to finney on the phone, showing no empathy to the fact that finney is literally in the exact situation he was in

i feel like the whole "this is the nightmare end of your pathetic little life" and "if you knew what you had coming, you'd be fucking terrified" thing is definitely to scare finney on purpose and to get him to do something, vance might as well have just told him he's never going home cuz thats how it came across LMAOO, it is startling though because vance is clearly speaking from experience, that he was literally fucking terrified, and he is warning finney in his own weird way

the thing i think sets vance apart from the other ghosts is that while he does help finney, he does it for a different reason than they do. the other ghosts want finney to escape, to get out, to be free, to live, but personally i dont think vance cares about that. the only thing he wants is for albert shaw to be dead, for someone to seek vengeance, to do what vance couldn't. vance doesn't care if it's bruce or robin or finney or whatever boy could've come after that, he doesnt care as long as that man gets what he deserves after what he put vance through, and i see this through the scene at the end of vance's call where finney thanks him for his help and vance says, and i quote, "helping you? this isn't about you, fuck him! and apologies for being repetitive but to me it just literally proves that to vance, this isnt about finney or his escape, its just about revenge

we dont get to find out what happens to the ghosts once the credits have rolled, and i dont think we quite know enough about tbp's version of ghosts to guess what theyre up to, but i have a few theories :3 maybe theyre no longer bound to those two houses and they can now go anywhere they want in town? or maybe since their shared goal of stopping albert has been achieved, the ghosts can finally pass on to whatever is waiting for them next. i dont think vance would be content to pass on that quickly or easily as anger lingers, but i hope he'd be able to let go of it eventually, and hey we might find out in the sequel. i pray it mentions him cuz i will just die if it doesnt

sometimes, ok thats a lie, frequently i think about an au where he survived or escaped or whatever but ohhhh boy this post is already a train wreck so that au would deserve its own essay of a post :3 if u actually genuinely read this far then Wtf thanks for reading the ramblings of an absolute madman, only pure delusion could get like 20 paragraphs about a guy with 6 minutes screentime but hey thats how i roll, thanks again to my pal gray for letting me rot and thank u to my other pal ana for also enduring all this rot

hope u enjoyed my interpretation of vance hopper im going to crawl in a hole now and probably brainrot some more, thanks again for ur time :3

#the black phone #tbp #tbp vance #vance hopper #character analysis #i literally rotted my entire brain for this one #normally i hate when ppl tag characters in a post that isnt really about them im gonna tag the other characters cuz i do mention them quite #a few times so apologies to ppl that are fans of anyone that isnt vance this post is Vance Centric #tbp robin #robin arellano #tbp finney #finney blake #tbp griffin #griffin stagg #tbp billy #billy showalter #tbp bruce #bruce yamada #tbp gwen #gwen blake #the grabber #albert shaw #the black phone 2022 #i am the number 1 vance hopper fan and this proves it #if vance has 100 fans im one of them. if vance has 10 fans im one of them. if vance has 1 fan its me. if vance has no fans im dead.#sorry to everyone that followed me for total drama content i have an absolute disease for this movie and this guy #back to regularly scheduled content soon trust #not expecting this to do numbers cuz theres actually only like 4 tbp fans on earth but had to let two years worth #of absolute brainrot for this movie that has like. barely any merch and only the slightest scraps of fan content #i stayed up all night writing this

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kelthebarb · 9 months

Text

if i could tell her. — john mactavish.

john “soap” mactavish x fem!reader

summary: you’re walking the halls after training, headed to the lounge room. you stop quick enough outside the door to hear john rant to gaz about a girl.

warnings: kissing, fluff, johnny being a softie, gaz is such a freakin tease, cursing, reader is a sergeant.

if i could tell her by ben platt & laura dreyfuss

a/n: this is sort of an apology for my last fic (and mostly cus i’m obsessed w johnny and this song)

long and strenuous training is what you were used to. being a soldier wasn’t for the faint of heart. you had adapted to the hardcore training sessions over time: you’d been doing this for years.

still, you had some days where it felt like your body felt like it was pushed beyond its limits. today was one of those days. you were sore all over, your head pounding and the room spinning ever so slightly. you smelled of sweat and dirt and your hair was tousled in ways you didn’t know were possible.

you walked the halls slowly, careful not to pull any more muscles. it was a fairly quiet day, which was good for your head.

you were on your way to the lounge room. nobody really hung around in there, except for privates that were avoiding their duties and their commanding officers. you would sometimes go in there between training sessions, when you were still on-duty.

as you approached the door, you noticed it was closed. muffled voices came through, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying. you moved quietly, hoping to scare some new recruits so they would stop disobeying orders.

you peeked through the small window on the door, and instead of some skinny, weak-looking boys having a laugh, you saw gaz. he was attentively listening to something that a man in front of him was saying. he had his back to the door, but you could tell who it was from a mile away.

his accent was extremely apparent, his hair recognizable in any crowd. it was johnny. his hands were flying around in the air, in an undoubtedly exaggerated way of speaking.

you locked eyes with gaz through the glass and held a finger to your lips, pointing the other one at johnny. gaz smirked at you and turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

you placed your ear against the door and listened to him ramble on.

“she’s everything to me.”

“tell me more about her,” you heard gaz say.

johnny hesitated for a moment, “there’s nothing like her smile. it’s contagious. so bright it could blind you. i don’t think she knows how wonderful that smile could make someone feel.”

you frowned slightly. you never told anyone about the fact that you’d loved johnny since you laid eyes on him for the first time. you kept it hidden in a locked part of your mind.

“what would you say if you could tell her?” voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“i won’t be able to. i’ve tried rehearsing it to myself, i couldn’t find the words,” johnny said with a sigh.

“just say what you feel,” gaz said, as if it was obvious.

“wow, thanks mate, didn’t think of that,” you could practically hear johnny roll his eyes.

gaz chuckled a bit. “i’m just saying, you should tell her before someone takes her from you.”

“i don’t want to ruin our friendship. she’s one of my best friends, what happens if she rejects me? i’d lose her altogether if it goes badly,” johnny looked down. “besides, i don’t know how i would even start.”

hearing about how much he loves this girl was making your head hurt even more than before. you took a deep breath, stood up shakily (you were still sore), and opened the door loudly.

gaz looked up and smiled at you mischievously. johnny whipped his head around, horror seeping into his eyes when he saw you.

“what’s that look for?” you asked him, a playful smile on your lips.

he shook his head, “nothin.”

you sat down next to him, sighing in relief as your muscles finally relaxed. gaz looked between you two, snickering to himself.

“shut the hell up, gaz,” johnny said sheepishly.

you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“how long until your next training session?”

this was the first chance you had to actually relax since 5 AM. you groaned loudly when your head met the pillow, just about to fall asleep. then-

knock.

“are you fucking joking.”

you stood up, sighing and opening the door. gaz stood there, looking slightly impatient.

“do you understand how badly i want to punch you?” you asked him, visibly angry that he interrupted your attempt to sleep off the aches in your joints.

“that can wait,” he stepped inside your room, taking a seat at your desk chair. “i assume you heard almost if not everything johnny said.”

“about the fact that he’s in love with some girl? yeah, heard all of it from when you saw me in the window.”

“so you didn’t hear it all.”

“how about instead of trying to be mysterious, you tell me so i can go the fuck to sleep.”

gaz raised his hands in defeat, “johnny wasn’t talking about some girl.”

“again, stop with the damn mysteries!” you shouted.

“he was talking about you.”

your eyes widened and your expression was almost entirely blank. the pure shock that filled your head was unfathomable.

“what.”

you uttered only one word, entirely monotonously. gaz could only hold back his laughter for so long.

“oh shut up, kyle,” you said, smacking his arm.

“i’ll leave you with that for a bit. you look tired,” he remarked, practically cackling when you flipped him off. you almost shoved him out of the door, shutting and locking it.

your attempts to sleep went down the drain. you couldn’t keep your mind off of what gaz said. you thought over what you heard through the door, concluding that he couldn’t possibly be talking about you. still; the thought lingered in your head, preventing even a minute of sleep.

as 20 minutes went by and no sleep, you decided that you’d have to go talk to johnny if you wanted to get rest.

so there you were, standing at his door. you told your body to knock, but the fear was holding you back. you were scared that gaz was just fucking with you. that johnny didn’t actually love you.

on an impulse, you knocked rather rapidly, pulling your hand away and taking deep breaths to yourself. you clenched your shaky hands at your sides, impatiently waiting for the door in front of you to open.

it took a few seconds - johnny was undoubtedly in bed when you’d showed up. he looked annoyed when he first opened the door, but his gaze softened when he saw you.

“you okay? it’s late, i thought you’d be sleeping,” he said, stepping to the side to let you shuffle inside his room quietly.

“yeah, couldn’t sleep. sorry if i woke you up though,” you grimaced at your unsure tone.

“nah, i couldn’t sleep either. what’s wrong? you’re shaking like mad,” he pointed to your hands.

“hm? oh- yeah, gripping a gun for three hours straight isn’t the best,” you lied, wringing your hands and placing them in your pockets.

he nodded, looking around the room and desperately searching for something to say. you couldn’t find any way around what you came here for, no matter how hard you tried. your mind conflicted you. you were afraid of embarrassing yourself, but there was no going back now.

“gaz came to my room earlier,” you said quickly.

“yeah?” johnny said, fear creeping up in his chest.

you opened your mouth to speak, but you hesitated. taking a deep breath, you realized: you dug your grave, now lie in it.

“he did,” you said, matter-of-factly. “told me something really shocking.”

now johnny was the one shaking. “and what was that?”

you looked at your feet, then back at him.

“i heard your conversation at the door to the lounge room. it wasn’t intentional, i was just waiting for you to finish talking so i could jump out and scare you. i heard you talking about a girl, how pretty her smile was, how you didn’t know how to talk to her,” you took an unconscious step toward him. “he told me who it was.”

johnny made a mental note to beat the shit out of gaz later. “i’m sorry, i told him not to. i didn’t want to ruin anything-“

he stopped as soon as you wrapped your arms around him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“don’t be sorry.”

“sorry.”

“you’re terrible.”

“i love you.”

you pulled away, eyes widened but your mouth smiling nonetheless. “i love you too.”

“you do?” he looked at you as if he was admiring you.

“i do. always have,” you hugged him again. when you pulled away, johnny was more than impatient as he grabbed your cheeks softly and pressed a kiss to your lips.

there was no desperation, it wasn’t like fireworks. it felt like home. something so familiar it almost gave you deja vu. his lips on yours felt nothing but right.

“do you have any idea how long i wanted to do that for?” he asked when you pulled away.

“if it’s as long as i have, then it must’ve been ages, huh?” you chuckled.

“stay the night?”

“as if i’d do anything different.”

a/n: he’s all i want just GIVE HIM TO MEEEEE

#john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mctavish x you #cod mw #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #call of duty smut

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arent-i-the-fairest · 2 years

Note

Could i possibly request hcs of the dorm leaders (or you can do the rest of the 1st years if its too much) of their progression of their crush on the prefect? Also love seeing a new gn only blog! Keep doing what you do! 💗

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝟐)

author’s note : omg anon, i’m so sorry this took so long for me to finish!!! this ask is ancient— but waaaa~! tysm for the kind words, dear~~!! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

ace, deuce, and epel ver.

riddle rosehearts

initially, he was a bit wary of you; you’re friends with the two biggest troublemakers in his dorm, after all. but after seeing the three of you together one particular day, his interest in getting to know you more sparked. ace and deuce looking like they were about to get in some trouble, and you seemed to be trying to stop them— which confused him, because aren’t you a troublemaker too??

he comes to find you aren’t at all! and he’s ashamed in himself for making assumptions, because oh god, you’re so sweet?? fairly responsible (better than most of his dorm), funny, just all around likable!

soon enough, what he called a “small liking” to you quickly became a big big big crush as he got to know you even more~!

the sound of chatter took your attention away from the book you were reading. curious as to what the commotion was, you snuck over to the source of the sound— and lo and behold, it was riddle and a couple of students.

the same students you told earlier to brew and serve riddle black tea, when it was in fact supposed to be herbal tea. (not that you knew.)

“now, care to explain why you made the mistake you did?” riddle asked. “… cause the ramshackle prefect told us to—” “hmph! pinning the blame on them, are you?” riddle grumbled, raising his magic pen.

oh boy. emerging from your hiding place, you gave a little shout to grab their attention. “uhm— they’re in the right here. it was my fault.” you sheepishly admitted. “sorry, i should’ve read up on the rules.”

“they’re the ones in the dorm, they should have read up on the rules! in fact, they should have already known!” he argued. “there must still be punishment, i’m afraid.” you let out a sigh, giving the students an apologetic look. riddle’s expression softened for a moment, and you heard him mutter something.

“hm? did you say something, riddle?” “… i said ‘nevermind’. just don’t let this happen again.”

leona kingscholar

falling in love with you was a rollercoaster of emotions for him. at first, he found you annoying because it’s leona. of course he’s gonna find you irritating, just like he does with everyone else. but he realizes you’re… a pretty nice herbivore— still annoying though, don’t get him wrong!

but after spending lots of time with you (something he never knew he’d be okay with), it started the road to where he is now. one night, he’s laying in bed, tired. thinking about you. and suddenly, he’s wondering why lately he’s been finding you less annoying and more attractive. with that, he’s wide awake— has he?? fallen in love with a herbivore???

after being in some serious denial for like a week, trying to convince himself that no, he did not fall in love with you; he just huffs and accepts it. kind of. (he’s kind of mad about it.)

“the one time i’m willing to do some work, you aren’t?” leona huffed, tossing aside his pen and leaning back on his pillow. you took a moment to stop fanning yourself to glare at him.

“well, i’m sorry you chose for us to work in savanaclaw— one of the warmest places on campus! you know i don’t do well with heat!” you groaned, wiping sweat off your forehead. “i can hardly focus on anything other than the fact that i feel like i’m being roasted alive.”

“god, use your brain.” leona snickered. “there’s an obvious solution to your problem here. just take off your cloth—” he recoiled as he felt a slap on his face.

“.. i was just kidding.” he sighed, holding his now stinging cheek.

azul ashengrotto

ooh, you two kind of got off on the wrong foot— you didn’t really like him, as he did kinda-sorta scam some of your closest friends and take your dorm for a while. and was quite unapologetic about it.

things only started to change later when floyd tried making you two become friends; and wanting to appease floyd, you went along with it. it was looking unsuccessful at first— but surprisingly, things took a pleasant turn, and you actually got closer! he apologized for everything he did (though you couldn’t really tell if he was completely sorry) and you forgave him.

fast-forward a couple weeks in time, and your relationship has improved greatly. so greatly, he’s locked himself up in his office— face buried in his hands, heart beating quickly, and mind racing thinking about you.

“i can’t imagine how much of a wreck i look like right now.” azul sighed to himself, sitting up straight and looking at all the unfinished papers scattered across his desk. “look at me, allowing them to affect my work like this.”

if anyone ever told past-azul he’d be the lovesick type, he wouldn’t believe them. but here he is now. can anyone blame him though? everything about you is just so— gah, words can’t describe it! he could go on forever, but—

a loud knock nearly made him jump out of his seat. “hey boss! you’ve got someone interested in a contract~!” floyd shouted before running off. adjusting his coat, azul sighed. “i’ve got to get a grip.”

kalim al-asim

he developed a crush on you so fast! like, i’m talking caught and realized his feelings in just a week fast. but he did kinda spend almost every waking hour thinking about this (that’s not an exaggeration), so maybe that makes up for it. but let’s run through it!

day one— you meet, and it’s an instant friendship. day two. so much hanging out. he loves it! and you, but shh, he doesn’t realize that yet~! day three. more hanging out, but today, he’s curious why he feels so different around you than he does his other friends. day four. he consults his club-mates about his thoughts, and they suggest that he might have feelings for you. and he goes, “woahhh no way! that’s crazy, me ‘n them are just friends”

but right afterwards, on day five, he’s like “oh….. maybe they were onto something”— and he kept on getting distracted all day thinking about it. explains why he seemed so off that day. day six, he’s squealing because omg!!! he’s got a crush!! that’s so exciting!!!! and here comes day seven, where he’s officially labeled you as the love of his life.

“jamiiil! is one week too quick to decide you’re in love with someone?” kalim asked for, like, the fourth time on this day alone.

resisting the urge to groan, jamil just started sweeping the floor faster so that he could finish and get out of the room, then go and tend to other chores— alone. with no more repetitive questions from kalim.

“well, personally, i belie—” “yeah, it isn’t, right? that’s what i think too!” kalim grinned. “or.. maybe it has been too short of time to tell. gah, i don’t know!” he sighed, hitting his forehead against the table.

“lots of my friends have been telling me it is, but you know what, jamil?” dead silence from jamil. “i think they’re wrong. i trust my feelings! i can say with confidence that i’m in love with them!”

vil schoenheit

changing the pace from kalim— it took him forever to develop and realize his feelings for you. (vil prefers to really take his time with things like this!)

but it took you guys so long to even talk for the first time. you acknowledged each other before then, sure! he knew you, he’s seen you running around, and you knew him since he’s a dorm leader. and a model. and an actor. but neither of you ever really found the need to talk— there was no interest to.

but things changed once vdc came along. since vil was going to be staying in your dorm for a while, you found it fit to try and get along— and it was pretty rough. but hey, things got better, and you two had something going!

after a (long) while, he grew to quite like your company~ and you as a whole. it’s likely you’ll be getting a confession soon, now that he’s really thought his feelings through!

“done!” you grin, pushing aside all the brushes you used to apply vil’s makeup. you took a step back and looked at the finished product— only to realize it was not your best work. yikes.

“this better look good, dear. i won’t be very pleased if my products went to waste.” he tsked, grabbing his handheld mirror. you held your breath as you watched him look at himself from different angles, his face scrunching up.

“seems you didn’t apply the foundation evenly— and the way you blended the eyeshadow looks rather… muddy. didn’t i also tell you not to use too much blush?” vil huffed as he grabbed some makeup remover wipes.

“i’ll wash this off and we’ll start again. this time, i’ll guide you on each step. and by the way, i’d prefer for you to stand a little closer to me.” “w-wha—?” “if you do, you’ll be able to see what you’re doing better.”

idia shroud

he wasn’t expecting for azul to introduce him to you, the board game club’s newest member— and he definitely wasn’t expecting to develop a crush on you.

truthfully, you irritated him at first. you always went out of your way to talk to him, even thought you know he’s an awkward introvert— how cruel can you be? the conversations were always extremely one sided and he would be begging for you to take a hint in his head. but for some reason, he felt like you were growing on him.

when he finally became more comfortable, he started engaging in your conversations more. that was when things really hit off. he was excited to see you actually showing interest in the things he liked, and he enjoyed learning more about you— soon; he even started inviting you over to his room. (which by the way, that? that is like, the biggest sign you can get from him that he likes you.)

“you really haven’t seen this anime yet?” you shook your head and he started giggling to himself. “hehehee! nor~mieee.” he mocked, pointing a finger at you.

“idia, that anime is super obscure— you’re probably the only one who’s seen it!” “ahem, me and ortho.” he corrected. “but we can make it 3 people who’ve watched it.” he said, clicking on the show. “only 1 season, 12 episodes long. wanna binge watch it?”

“… it’s almost midnight, by the time we’re done, it’s gonna be about 5 in the morning.”

“and?” he smirked and you shook your head, finally giving in. “sometimes i wonder if you care about academics at all.” you sighed, scooting up beside him. “alright, i’ll watch it with you.”

malleus draconia

similar to canon, he found himself interested in you when you showed no fear whatsoever towards him. it’s strange enough to him you have no clue who he is, but know him or not, he usually has people cowering before him with his aura alone.

but a friendship formed, and he started caught feelings very early. and man, was it intense! it all just hit him at once— but those feelings strengthened when you happened to find out he wasn’t this normal “tsunotarou” (or hornton, as twst en would say) guy but malleus draconia. and you weren’t scared— in fact, you didn’t care at all!! he was ecstatic!!

he treasures his relationship with you so greatly, he’s so happy that there’s someone who treats him like… just a regular guy, which sounds strange— what i mean is that you don’t fear him or put him on this crazy high pedestal. you two just hang out and vibe with his tamagotchi (gaogao drakon <33) like pals (sooner or later, lovers) do.

you blew at your cup of steaming hot tea, trying your best to ignore malleus’ staring. he seemed deep in thought, and while you felt bad for breaking his train of thought, you couldn’t bear another second of this uncomfortable silence.

“you, ah, seem like you have something on your mind. do you wanna talk about it?” you asked, snapping him out of his trance.

he gave you a soft smile. “it’s nothing to worry about. i was just thinking of our friendship.” surprised, your grip on your teacups handle loosened a bit, making you spill some of the drink on the table.

“oh— sorry, sorry!” you gasped, grabbing some napkins. “you just caught me by surprise. i never took you as the sentimental type, mal!” but when you looked up at him, he was already off deep in thought once again.

#gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader

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bengiyo · 8 months

Note

I am curious for your perspective on the way the OF creators are interacting with fans and have even admitted to editing the show based on fan reactions. It strikes me as an unusual level of interaction and capitulation, though of course TV is a live medium that is nearly always responsive to reactions to some extent. My preference is for a lot less of this kind of thing, but I know you have experience with direct interaction with media creators and have found it enhances your experience sometimes. What do you make of how these dynamics are showing up in OF and the effect it’s having on the show?

TV and Critic Background

So, I am actually the worst person to talk to if you think the creators should be quiet about their work, because I really enjoy talking to directors, producers, actors, cinematographers, and especially editors about their work. I often go to film festivals just to talk to the creators about their processes.

I've also been in the TV space a really long time, and I am used to this kind of behavior. I don't think a lot of folks who are in BL are used to being in the process of TV itself, and I think a lot of people have let the Netflix binge model inform the way they view TV. TV is not like movies. When you get a movie, you are seeing the end product of filming, editing, test screenings, re-edits, etc. TV is usually only an episode or two ahead of the viewers.

It's extremely normal for a show to respond to feedback when characters test well. The 100 did this with Jasper. He was supposed to die in the pilot when that spear entered his chest, but he tested well with audiences so they revived him.

Fun Fact: This is why Kiseki: Dear to Me didn't just move their release schedule up when episode 8 was leaked early. They probably weren't finished assembling episode 9.

I followed Sense8 through its entire development process all the way from rumors and then J. Michael Stracynski's posts about it, to the things Lana and Lily said about it, to the commentary from the cast.

I have a special hatred for Rick Behrman over Star Trek.

I absolutely hate Russel T. Davies because of Cucumber.

I bailed on Supernatural because of the way the writers condescended to us at comicon after killing Kevin.

I know some fans are upset about the idea that scenes they wanted to see got cut, but I was there for Noah Galvin opening his fucking mouth to talk shit about other actors at ABC who were playing beloved gay characters and that subsequently getting The Real O'Neals canceled. The show had a very short second season and I feel forever salty about that.

What does this mean for Jojo and Ninew and Den?

I actually think Jojo, Den, and Ninew are fine. I don't think they usually poopoo on valid reads from what I've seen, and mostly they're having fun with the fans, too. I just don't think people are used to the creators being so honest about how feedback affects the editing process.

I think this is the first time we've had a big show in a while where the creator was fairly active on socials about the show. Aof and Au are usually pretty quiet when their shows are airing, and only give small tidbits while they show is airing. Jojo is silly and likes to play with fans. Den is feisty and has a gay agenda to pursue.

Truly, I don't think Jojo and friends are that bad about anything with this show, because they're mostly just laughing and stating things that are obvious to people who pay attention to how the sausage is made.

Shipping

That being said, the biggest struggle OF is having is shipping. The FK girlies are so loud and their heavy breathing has likely influenced the way Jojo and friends decided to write Ray. The FB girlies are so into them that it's made Jojo and them dial back some of their Top content because the audience hates him so much. Only Boston and Nick feel like they've made it through the shipping gamut intact because Neo and Mark aren't bringing a bunch of preexisting shippers to the table.

Coming off of episode 10, you can see this plainly with the nasty4nasty dynamic with Boston and Nick. The emotional core of their dynamic feels true, even down to the way their moments in the store mirror their first interactions again. Boston came in for service about his phone and intentionally showed Nick something on it.

I don't think Jojo has ever had to work with multiple acting pairs that were big branded pairs prior to this, and this is only his second time really dealing with that. With Never Let Me Go, Pond and Phuwin weren't that big yet, and he wasn't threatening their ship with anything complicated. OF is challenging for people who just watch BL as fap material and have to deal with their faves not being easy people to parse.

As usual, we go back to that post that goes around all the time, thought I think the OP deleted it:

"Never ever be normal about fictional characters but please GOD be normal about the people who play them, I am begging you" -tumblr user mantorokk-writes

#answered #only friends the series #only friends meta #jojo tichakorn #ninew pinya #den panuwat #best kittisak

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coraniaid · 1 month

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🔥 about tara

OK, so for the record I like Tara a lot. She's definitely in my top ten favorite characters. I am still in the early stages of a (painfully slow) Season 4 rewatch, and one of the things keeping me going is the thought I will get to see Tara again soon.

I think Tara's death is very sad and I can understand why Amber Benson felt poorly treated by the way it was handled (especially with the stupid gimmick of adding Tara to the opening credits just for that episode). On balance -- and especially given the context arround her introduction and her relationship with Willow -- I think that it was probably a fairly significant mistake from a writing perspective for at least a couple of reasons. (It's not really a good look to kill off half of your show's groundbreaking lesbian couple, whatever the context, and the writers didn't really seem to have any sort of coherent plan for what to do with Willow afterwards.)

But it kind of irks me when I see it described as an obvious case of the Bury Your Gays trope because ... it really isn't?

Tara doesn't die because she's gay: she doesn't die shortly after coming out, she isn't targeted because she's a lesbian; she isn't, in fact, targeted directly at all. Her death is basically just a stupid random accident. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Neither is Tara treated as more expendable by the narrative because she's a lesbian. By the time Tara dies, Buffy (and the Angel spin-off) had already killed off (among other recurring and at least occasionally sympathetic characters) Jenny Calendar, Kendra, Larry, Doyle, Forrest, Joyce and Darla. By the time both shows end the writers will have also killed off Jonathan, Anya, Cordelia, Fred and Wesley. Buffy isn't quite a show where Anyone Can Die, but certainly it's one where anyone can die if they're not in the Core Four (and if they're not vampires Buffy has slept with, in which case they can die for a little bit but they'll get over it).

And nor is there some sense that Tara's death affects the rest of the group any less than any of the others on the above list. On the contrary, other than Joyce, who is the protagonist of the show's actual mother and had been a presence in the show for almost twice as long as Tara was, she gets mourned for longer and by more people than anyone else on that previous list. (Xander and Willow's supposed childhood friend Jesse gets mourned so little I couldn't even bring myself to add him to the list.)

Yes, the show is far from perfect. It definitely is, at various times, racist, sexist and homophobic, often in ways that cannot at all be dimissed as the show being a product of its time. I think you could certainly argue that Tara was a victim of the show's persistent narrative misogyny (Willow's first girlfriend, Giles's first girlfriend on the show, and both of Xander's girlfriends die, but neither Oz nor Riley die and neither Angel or Spike die in a way that matters).

But Tara's death isn't automatically an example of the Bury You Gays trope just because she dies and was a lesbian. Even though, as I said, it was a probably the wrong decision for the character and the show and I wish it hadn't happened.

Oh, also, a bonus hot take:

In a hypothetical Season 7 where Tara survived, I really don't think I can see her relationship with Willow lasting long. The show sort of forgets about it in favor of advancing the subplot in which Willow becomes a magic addict after her Evil Friend Amy takes her to see a drug dealer and then forces her to relapse, but .... Willow's supposed magic addiction isn't why she and Tara broke up. They broke up because Willow was messing with Tara's memories and consent, well before she'd ever met Rack or de-ratted Amy. Willow hadn't actually done anything to address the things that made her take Tara for granted and consider herself entitled to mess with her mind with magic at all. She'd been sad about the relationship ending, sure, and Tara missed Willow, but ... Willow was absolutely the same person who did this to Tara.

The show doesn't bother to address the actual reason she and Tara broke up, preferring the cheap shock death just when they'd gotten back together again. But after a while I think Tara would have realized this, and without the shock of losing Tara in the first place I think Willow would find it very hard not to fall back into her old habits. Habits which have nothing to do with Amy's supposed malign influence. After all, Willow was trying to use magic to change her best friend's mental state without his consent as early as Lovers Walk, a full year before she ever met Tara. And when she and Oz broke up that same season she very quickly started talking about wishing she had a way to "make [him] trust me". This is much more a part of who Willow is than any addiction to evil magic.

#btvs #asks #thanks #I have a horrible feeling I've posted something a lot like this before #sorry if I'm repeating myself #(rereading this before I post I just want to note that I really like Willow too despite what the last couple of paragraphs might imply)

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skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Almost Lover

Seungmin x Thick female reader

Word count: 5.9K

Synopsis: Falling in love with your best friend, you should've known it would bring you heart ache, almost lovers always do.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Gah! How the hell is this the last one already! I got a lot of inspiration for this one from One Fine Frenzy's song Almost Lover. I just love doing these thick reader series! You guys are always so excited and responsive and it just makes my heart feel good that people who aren't typically represented are finding comfort in reading my stories about people like them! I hope you guys like this one! If you do, please reblog, like, comment, shoot me an ask whatever I cherish every word you guys send me! As always, warnings and smut below the cut

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, depictions of depression(its not said outright but it's pretty obvious MC is depressed), protected piv sex, first time, oral (f receiving), I think that's it the last two have been fairly tame as far as smut. If I missed anything please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

You woke up ready for your day determined. You had been sitting on this long enough. You needed to just do it, rip the metaphorical band aid off. You and your best friend Seungmin were both nineteen, had grown up together your whole lives and had just graduated high school. You had the summer to screw off and be kids one more time before college and you didn't want to go through it holding on to this still. You had lost a few nights of sleep as you considered the pros and cons and finally decided that you were going to tell Seungmin that you were in love with him. It was the day of his open house. You planned on spending the day with him, celebrating taking the new step in your lives as adults, and then when it was just the two of you in the evening, you were going to tell him. You went over early to help him and his parents finish setting up before guests started arriving. When you got there Seungmin was buzzing with excitement.

“What are you so giddy about hmmm?” You asked as he smiled ear to ear.

“Nnnope it’s a surprise. Make sure you don’t leave early, okay?” You tried to hide your smile. A surprise? Could Seungmin be planning on confessing to you as well?

“I won’t there’s something I really need to talk to you about after the party tonight.” People started showing up shortly after everything was ready. Family, friends and other loved ones were coming and going all day. Eating, chatting and congratulating Seungmin and you for graduating, both of you with honors, Seungmin valedictorian. Evening came around and the fairy lights came on. Most of Seungmin’s immediate family, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents were still there, it was getting late and you hoped you’d get your time alone with him soon. Suddenly Seungmin and his parents were standing up together as they prepared to make an announcement. Seungmin’s mom tried to speak but she got all weepy like she had been on and off all day so his dad spoke up.

“We wanted to thank you all for sticking around. We’re extremely proud of Seungmin for graduating at the top of his class but we’re mostly proud of the man our son has grown into. He’s been holding onto a bit of news that he’s been rather excited about. Seungmin?” This must be his surprise that he’d mentioned. Definitely not a love confession, not in front of everyone. You had no idea what the surprise could be, Seungmin usually told you everything. He came forward, the huge smile that had been plastered on his face all day, still just as prevalent.

“I’m excited to announce that I’ve been accepted into Harvard University with a full academic scholarship! In one week I leave for America!” Seungmin’s family all cheered happy for his wonderful news while your heart shattered. One week?! You didn’t even know he’d been applying to colleges in other countries let alone Harvard. Why had he kept this from you? He got hugs and congratulations from all of his family members and then he walked up to you with his arms out.

“Well?” He was smiling ear to ear. You would never want to see him unhappy, so you put on a brave face.

“That’s fantastic Seungmin, I’m so proud of you.” You hugged him and he squeezed you tightly, his face buried in your neck, yours pressed against his chest. A tear slipped from your eye and you quickly dried it on Seungmin’s shirt before he noticed.

“Thanks y/n. I’m gonna go say goodbye to grandma and grandpa and then we can talk alone like you wanted.” Your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

“Oh it’s nothing important...” Seungmin nodded.

“Sure it is! I’ll be back in just a minute!” You shook your head and he dashed away to send his grandparents off. As soon as you were out of Seungmin’s line of sight, you left. You got in your car and drove away, you could no longer hold off your tears. You didn’t go home, you just drove around and cried. When Seungmin realized you left he tried to call and text you but you had turned your phone off. He called your mom assuming you had gone home.

“Hey Mrs. y/l/n! Is y/n home already?” Your mom was confused, she wasn’t expecting you home until much later.

“No Minnie she was supposed to be at yours fairly late she said.” He hummed.

“Hmmm. She left a while ago my mom said, she should definitely be home by now.” Your mom started to worry a bit.

“Oh my, um... was everything okay when she left?” You mom knew about your feelings for Seungmin and that you’d planned on telling him tonight. She wondered if that had gone badly.

“Yea we were all just celebrating my announcement about being accepted to Harvard, then I talked to her for a minute and then she was gone. I don’t know. We were supposed to talk about something so I was surprised she just left without even a goodbye.” Your mom was shocked.

“Harvard!?” Seungmin chuckled.

“Oh yeah ha, I guess you didn’t know that yet. Yea I leave in a week.” Your mom’s heart broke for you. You must be devastated. It didn’t make her less worried about you either.

“Well congratulations Seungmin, that’s quite an achievement, I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks Mrs. y/l/n. When y/n gets home, will you tell her to call me. She said what she wanted to talk about wasn’t important but when she asked me to talk alone it seemed like it was.”

“Yes Seungmin I’ll have her call.” Your mom said goodbye and hung up with Seungmin to immediately start trying to call you. Straight to voicemail. There would be no use in texting, if it was going straight to voicemail then it was off. She danced on the line of giving you space and worrying sick. She decided if you weren’t home in the next hour, she’d go looking for you, and if she couldn’t find you by tomorrow morning, she was calling the police. Thankfully calling the police wasn’t necessary. About twenty minutes after Seungmin called you walked in the door. Your mom rushed to the foyer to find your face red and tear streaked. Her face fell she knew you were in pain and wished she could take it from you.

“Honey...” You shook your head as the tears, you’d only just got to stop, started welling up again. You didn’t say anything you walked past with your hand up signaling you needed time and headed towards the stairs for your room.

“y/n...” You turned and looked at your mom and as soon as you saw the ‘poor thing’ look on her face you just turned and walked to your room. If she said anything it would only result in you crying uncontrollably again and you just wanted to get into your bed. Which you did and stayed there for days. Your mom messaged Seungmin when you’d gotten home and told him that you weren’t feeling well and that was why you’d left. He was concerned but your mom assured him you’d be okay and said to try tomorrow, which he did, and the next day and the next. Seungmin was busy getting everything together for his move overseas but still called everyday trying to talk to you, to see if you were better. The day Seungmin was leaving your mom came into your room and sat on the edge of your bed. The last few days she’d let you just process, giving Seungmin excuses that you were still not feeling very well. As long as you ate the food she brought you, drank water, and showered, she allowed you to spend your time in your bed, crying on and off between long bouts of sleep. Today he was leaving.

“Sweetie, don’t you at least want to say goodbye?” You buried your face deeper into your pillow as your tears welled again.

“N-no, I-I-I c-can't mom. I... no. If he calls just say I’m still sick or sleeping or a-a-anything I don’t c-care.” You mom took a deep breath. She worried you would regret not saying bye but you were an adult and it was your decision, so she supported you.

“Okay honey, okay. If he calls I’ll tell him. I’ll be back up with lunch a little later okay?” You nodded, your head still pressed into the pillow.

“I love you baby.” You sniffled.

“I love you too mom.” As expected Seungmin called an hour before he had to leave for the airport. Your mom answered.

“No I’m sorry Seungmin she’s still in bed sick.” Seungmin’s heart hurt. He couldn’t leave for another country and not say goodbye to you. You’re the only person he wanted to say goodbye to aside from his family.

“I can just come by for a bit, just to say goodbye.” Your mother sighed a little, hating to have to tell him no. She could hear the pain in his voice.

“No no I don’t think you coming by is a good idea with you having to travel, I’d hate for you to catch...” Seungmin interrupted.

“I’ll wear a mask, I just... I have to say goodbye.” Your mom stood her ground, you had made your choice and she was determined to do as you asked.

“No Minnie I’m sorry sweetie. Why don’t you call once your settled from your travels, she should be better by then.” Seungmin didn’t understand, he was so hurt. Why couldn’t he just say goodbye?

“O-okay Mrs. y/l/n, will you tell her that I’ll miss her and that I’ll call and write as often as possible.” Your mother hummed.

“I will Seungminnie. Be safe traveling sweetie.” They said their goodbyes and that was that. An hour and a half later Seungmin was on a plane to America, and you were curled up in your bed sobbing. After Seungmin left, day by day you were able to drag yourself out of bed for longer periods of time until you had some semblance of a normal life again. What normal was without Seungmin at least. Seungmin wasn’t only your best friend, he was your only friend. Growing up the chubby girl you were picked on a lot and Seungmin was always the one that would stand up for you. You didn’t need anyone else but him. Now you had no one. You were anxious about the next time he called, when he called from America. You weren’t sure if you were ready still. You weren’t sure what you’d say. It turned out that you didn’t need to worry too much. Days, weeks, months went by with no call or letters from Seungmin. If you’d thought your heart was broken before it was ashes now, a shell of what used to be able to hold joy and love. You had started college in the meantime but it hadn’t been going well. You were missing classes, not studying, getting bad grades. By the end of your freshman year you were on academic probation and heading home for the summer. You wouldn’t describe your time at school as happy but going back home ripped open the raw wound that had started to scar over.

It never stopped hurting, you were just able to deal with the hurt more, you got used to the pain. Everything reminded you of Seungmin back home. The ocean, the late night drives you took to try and clear your head, only to drive around aimlessly thinking of the love you could have had. You woke up in your bedroom at your mom’s house every morning with him on your mind. You eventually worked up the courage to call his parents’ house to speak to him, assuming he’d be home for the summer to see family as well but they informed you that he actually wasn’t home this summer and that they hoped he’d be home for the holidays. Maybe it was better that way. You managed to make it through the summer and headed back to your school.

When you came back for the holiday’s you didn’t bother calling the Kim’s and later through the grapevine your mother had found out Seungmin hadn’t come back for the holiday’s opting to stay in America and visit his girlfriend’s family. Girlfriend? He was gone and you were constantly haunted and he was just fine. The wound would never heal it seemed. You skated by year two of college and dreaded two more years of it. It was another summer and another trip back home to visit you mom and see the ghost of your heartbreak everywhere you looked.

You were on your way back home from your summer job when your mom asked you to stop by the convenient store to grab a couple of things. You were walking up an aisle and you heard a familiar voice; one you hadn’t heard in over two years. You looked between the shelves and the next aisle over you saw Seungmin on the phone with, what sounded like his mom, as she tried to direct him to what she needed. You ducked a few more aisles away, quickly grabbed the rest of the things your mother asked for and left. You managed to get out without him seeing you. When you got home your mom met you at the door to grab the groceries you’d picked up and she was concerned when she saw the look that was on your face.

“Sweetie? What’s the matter?” You had a thousand-yard stare but you snapped out of it and answered her.

“I.. uh... saw... Seungmin. At the market.” Your mom put her hand over her heart.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I forgot his mom had mentioned being excited about him coming home this summer. I guess things ended badly with his girlfriend and he was feeling home sick.” You nodded. It was more information than you needed really. He was home, you were home, what did it matter. You hadn’t spoken to each other in two years. That night your mom had her bridge game with her group of girlfriends over at another one of the ladies' houses. Before she left she checked in on you and when you gave her the okay, she headed out for the evening. You were sitting on the couch in the living room reading a book when there was a knock at the door. You set your book down and went to answer it. When you opened the door, there standing in front of you like it had only been a day since last seeing you, was Kim Seungmin. You took a deep shuddering breath.

“Hey.” He said awkwardly. You looked at him and your eyes were so empty. You didn’t seem like the girl he’d grown up with anymore. You weren’t. You were a woman for one not just a scared little girl anymore. You were just as beautiful as you always had been but something that used to burn in your eyes when you looked at him was gone.

“Hi...” You weren't’ sure what else to say. You’d thought a lot about the things you would say to Seungmin if you ever saw each other again but standing there with him in front of you, your mind drew a blank.

“I... uh... I saw you at the convenient store earlier...” More awkward silence.

“I wanted to say hi but you were leaving...” Quiet.

“I... look... y/n, I’m sorry I never called or wrote. When I left I was so hurt that I couldn’t even say goodbye to you. I couldn’t bring myself to call or write at first, then so much time went by and... I don’t know. I just... I need to know... why didn’t you tell me goodbye?” In his mind he might have felt like he deserved an answer but his question angered you.

“Why didn’t I say goodbye?! I... huh...” You laughed incredulously.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving me behind?! Why didn’t you tell me you applied to fucking Harvard!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!?” Tears were streaming down your face. Seungmin had never known that you were hurt by him not telling you. You smiled and congratulated him and then left. He’d thought you were happy for him; he didn’t know.

“I... y/n. I didn’t think I’d get in. The chances were astronomical. I figured I’d just get denied and then we’d end up going to college together and then at least you’d be there to help with the sting of rejection. Then I got the acceptance package and I was in shock. I’d only found out a couple of days before my open house and then I only had a week to prepare and... I just...” He started to get choked up seeing you cry. He never wanted to hurt you. It didn’t make you feel any better, so he hadn’t thought he’d get in still, you were best friends. He should have told you he applied. The damn finally broke, a lifetime of love and two and a half year's worth of pain held inside came out all at once.

“And you were accepted, of course, and didn’t need me.” He shook his head.

“It wasn’t like that y/n...”

“Seungmin... the day of your open house I told you I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you remember that?” He nodded.

“I had finally got the nerve up to tell you that I was in love with you. Then you announced you were going to Harvard and... you broke my heart Seungmin! I loved you so much and you didn’t even tell me. After you made the announcement, you were so happy, so I just pretended to be happy too, but something died inside me that day. I’ve tried to bring it back to life everyday since and I can’t! It was that easy to walk in and out of my life and I couldn’t even bear the thought of not being with you.” You choked on your words as you bawled your eyes out. Seungmin was in shock, probably more so than when he’d gotten that acceptance letter.

“y/n...” You shook your head wiping at your face.

“So there, now you know why I didn’t say goodbye when you left, because if I said goodbye, it would have killed me.” Seungmin had tears welling up in his eyes ready to fall.

“I... I didn’t...”

“I don’t know why I thought you could ever love me, I should have known falling in love with you would bring me heartache, almost lovers always do.”

“y/n...” He didn’t know what to say. There was not one thing to say that would make what he did, what happened, disappear. You sniffled and wiped your face again. You leaned in and softly kissed Seungmin’s lips. A first and last kiss, a kiss goodbye.

“Goodbye Seungmin.” You choked and sobbed and closed the door as Seungmin stood there with his fingers pressed to his lips, tears streaming down his face. That was the only time you saw Seungmin that summer. He’d tried to come by a couple of other times but you made your mom turn him away. You were in your bed again, like it had all happened the day before. It worried your mother so much. When the summer was coming to an end you took off for school a bit earlier to try and get settled. To try and start healing once and for all, hoping that the kiss and saying goodbye could finally bring you some kind of closure, and it did, somewhat.

As quickly as summer had ended Christmas seemed to be upon you. Unbeknownst to your mom, you had saved up a good chunk of your summer job money and used it to buy her a cruise trip for the holiday. She had done so much, sacrificed, worried, she deserved to have a winter in the sun, carefree. She had tried to argue not wanting you to be alone for the holiday’s but you had already spent the money and the ticket was non-refundable. The day she was leaving she called you.

“I want you to call me Christmas day okay?” You laughed a little.

“Okayy mom I will, I promise.” She sighed heavily.

“You know I don’t like leaving you alone.” You were shaking your head even though she couldn’t see it.

“I’ll be fine mom, I’m gonna use the time to finish catching up to get off academic probation, so I’ll be too busy to worry and you will be too, on a cruise! Now get going before you miss your flight.” You could hear your mom getting choked up on the other end of the phone.

“I love you so much sweetie.” You smiled, you had been doing that a bit more lately.

“I love you too mom, have fun and I’ll call you on Christmas.” You did exactly what you had told your mom. You threw yourself into the makeup work you had to complete to get off academic probation. Your counselor had told you, taking a break over the holiday’s would be fine but it was better to keep your mind busy. Christmas day you were elbow deep in text books and papers when you heard a knock on your dorm room door. You got up making your way over, swearing to god that if it was your mother on the other side of that door that you were going to kill her. Instead when you opened your door you saw someone that you never thought you’d see again, Seungmin.

“Merry Christmas.” Your brain was on dial up and took a second to register that he’d said something to you. You sighed heavily all the healing you’d done didn’t matter when he was right in front of you again.

“Seungmin, what are you doing here?” Tears were already pricking your eyes.

“I talked to your mom and she said that you weren’t coming home for Christmas.” You shook your head you didn’t know why that mattered and why your mom hadn’t told you she’d spoken to Seungmin. You pushed your fingers into your eyes.

“I’m not over you yet Seungmin! But I was doing better! Surviving! Can’t you just let me be!? Let me heal!?” You took a gasp of air choking on your tears, you put your hand over your mouth and turned your back on him sobbing. Seungmin walked in, tossed his bag, and closed your door. You turned to tell him to go, to get out, don’t come back. Before any of those words could come out of your mouth Seungmin stepped forward, cupped your cheek and kissed you. Another kiss, one that you never thought you’d have. When he pulled away you were so confused.

“What are you doing Seungmin?” Your words were a whisper now, eyes still glassy with tears.

“I love you y/n, I’m in love with you and I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m so sorry I truly truly am, I’m sorry. Please forgive me please please! Let me make things right, let me show you how much I love you, how much I always have. Please!” Seungmin was crying and pleading. He had always been such an even keeled guy, in control of his anger and emotions. You’d never seen him so frantic. You stood there on the precipice of maybe the most important decision of your life. Seungmin held your face with both hands and kissed you again. You could taste his salty tears on his lips. You grasped the front of his shirt and kissed him back. You wrapped your arms around him and he tilted his head, deepening your kiss. His tongue trace your lips and when you let out a breathy sigh, he slid his tongue into your mouth. Seungmin wrapped his hands around your soft body and things escalated quickly, hands roaming, groping. He started backing you towards your bed, when the back of your knees hit the mattress you pushed against Seungmin’s chest and he stopped.

“I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean to...” You pushed your fingers against his lips silencing him.

“It’s okay Minnie.” His heart melted, it had been so long since he’d heard you call him that.

“I... it’s just... I’m... a... virgin.” His warm brown eyes softened.

“Oh. OH! We can stop, I don’t want to pressure you; it was just the heat of the moment and I...” You silenced Seungmin with your lips this time. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, your full breasts pressed against his chest. You pulled away and he gently rubbed his nose against yours.

“I want to. I... just thought you should know, in case... you know... I’m not good at it.” Seungmin’s hand cradled your face and you leaned into the warmth of his touch.

“Baby...” You looked at him and his brow was furrowed, he shook his head and tears started welling up in your eyes again. He kissed you and laid you back on your bed crawling over you. His hands pushed your shirt up and off, you weren’t wearing a bra and Seungmin started blushing. Your full body was so beautiful, every curve of it a work of art. Seungmin started placing soft kisses down your neck and chest, then started to suck on one of your nipples as he pinched and teased the other. Your breaths were coming out short and quiet. You’d never been touched like this before and your whole body was on fire. He let go of one nipple and sucked on the other. You moaned softly and Seungmin’s cock was throbbing in his pants. He was only focused on pleasing you right then, his own pleasure seeming insignificant at the moment.

“MmmMinnie... I feel so funny... light headed.” He moved back up your body and kissed your lips.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” You let out a deep breath and Seungmin’s hands traveled down your soft, plump, body. He untied the drawstring of your sweats and reached into them, pushing your panties aside and sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. You jumped and gasped at the strange sensation of someone else touching you in such an intimate place.

“Is it okay? Do you want to stop?” You shook your head and took a deep breath.

“No keep going Seungmin, don’t stop.” He swiped your arousal over your clit and you jumped again. The more he did it, the better it felt and the more you got used to his fingers, the less you jumped. He was sucking on your nipples as he fingered you, making sure that any part of your body he could make feel good, he did. He let go of your nipple again to speak.

“I’m gonna put a finger inside okay?” You shook your head, your breathing more labored as things progressed. When Seungmin slid a finger inside you it was a strange but welcome sensation. He started pushing it in and pulling back out, your slick coating it entirely.

“MMMmmm that feels good Seungmin.” He hummed and started to suck on your big breasts again as he continued pumping one finger into you slowly. His lips parted from your skin only to warn you again.

“I’m gonna stick in another, are you ready?” You chewed at your lips nodding.

“Mmhmm.” Seungmin gently and slowly added his second finger, you were so wet it wasn’t difficult to do or take. His longer middle finger now added to the mix, reached and brushed your g spot making you jump again. He made out with your plush body, one hand comforting you as the other worked you open enough that Seungmin would hopefully not hurt you.

“OH!OH! That felt... oh my god!” Seungmin smiled against your skin and pushed his finger inside you again reaching for the same spot, brushing it yet again, forcing a louder moan from you than your others. You clamped your hands over your mouth not wanting everyone on your dorm floor to know you were being pleasured. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, gently, his lips never leaving your skin, refusing until he’d kissed every inch of your gorgeous full body. You were writhing underneath him.

“M-more... m-more p-please.” Seungmin started pushing his fingers into you a little faster, with a little more force and it was just what you’d hoped for when you asked for more. You were panting, your soft breasts rising and falling with your breaths.

“Does that feel good baby?” You nodded frantically.

“Yes Minnie yes! Please I’m so close, don’t stop!” Seungmin had no intentions on stopping, no he planned on making your first orgasm a mind blowing experience for you. He moved further down your body as he fingered you open, then ran his tongue through your folds and teased your clit with the tip.

“GOD FUCK!” Your hands came up to your mouth again as you moaned uncontrollably into your palm. Seungmin messily kissed, sucked, and licked your clit while his fingers continued their assault on your g spot. You pulled your hand away from your mouth again panting.

“I... I... I’m... gonna... gonna c-cum...” You managed to get your words out between gasping breaths of air. Seungmin hummed against your pussy and your legs tried to shut around his head as you came hard. Your hips rolling as Seungmin worked you through your orgasm. You were violently trembling as Seungmin pulled his fingers from you and crawled back up your body, kissing your lips as you tried to hard wire your brain to function again. Seungmin’s hands gently ran up and down your curvy body soothing you. When your breathing returned to normal and your eyes opened you saw Seungmin looking down at you. His fingers gently traced the features of your face.

“You okay?” You nodded and gave him a shy smile. You’d never even been naked in front of someone before and now you were naked under the love of your life recovering from your first orgasm. You pushed his bangs, that had grown longer since the last time you’d seen him, away from his face.

“Seungmin... I... I want you. Please.” He shook his head and his heart rate skyrocketed at, not just the idea of being inside you, but also the chance that he might hurt you. He stood and tried to steady his hands as he removed his clothes in front of you. Every bit of skin that was revealed to you made your cunt ache. He was about to climb on top of you again, your legs spread open, and you stopped him.

“Um... condom? I’m not on the pill or anything.” He nodded.

“Oh of course yea.” He dug into the satchel that he’d had tossed as soon as he’d entered your dorm and retrieved a condom. He walked back over and kneeled on your bed between your thick thighs. You watched as he stroked his cock from base to tip a few times before ripping open the condom and rolling it down his length. He braced himself over you, his tip lined up with your entrance. He leaned down and kissed you so tenderly the empty shell your heart had been for so long was full again.

“Are you ready?” You nodded, biting your bottom lip and looking down at where the two of you were about to meet. He caressed your face and you looked into his eyes again.

“You’re sure?” You nodded and Seungmin’s thumb traced the apple of your cheek. He shook his head. The hand that had been on your face reached between the two of you and you looked down again as he started to slowly push his tip inside you.

“Okay?” You moaned a little feeling him.

“MMhmm feels good, keep going.” Seungmin nodded and started to push into you deeper. You could start to feel the stretch and sting the deeper he went. You winced a little and he stopped, afraid to hurt you.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled him down into a deep, passionate kiss.

“It’s okay Minnie, doesn't hurt just... go slow.”

“I will baby, we don’t have to rush. We have the rest of our lives.” You teared up hearing him say that he pictured forever with you. He pushed into you fully, the curve of his cock perfectly rubbing against your that tender part inside you, and a tear rolled down your cheek. Seungmin brushed it away with his thumb and before if he could ask if he was hurting you, you spoke.

“Feels so good Seungmin, it feels... right... like a piece I was missing is finally in place. Please... move baby.” Seungmin’s body erupted in goosebumps when you used the pet name. He listened and slowly drug his cock out and pushed back in.

“Like that?” You moaned again.

“Yes Minnie! Just like that... faster...” He pulled out and pushed in with a little more force and you wrapped your thick legs around him.

“Oh my god y/n you feel so good... fuck... s-so good.” You pulled Seungmin down into another kiss gently tugging on his hair as he started to fuck you at a steady rhythm.

“Yes yes yes... oh Seungmin oh oh fuck!” Hearing the pleasure you were in only made him want to make you cum again that much more.

“I’m gonna make you cum again baby, cum for me.” One of his hands reached between you again and started teasing your clit. He felt you clench around his dick and he let out a strangled moan.

“Fuuuck s-squeezing me s-so tight... fuck.” He rubbed your clit faster as he started to snap his hips into yours harder. Your breasts and body jiggled every time he pushed his cock into you, harder, faster. You could feel the pressure mounting inside you again.

“I’m... I’m... fuck... don’t stop!” Seungmin teased your clit faster, feeling him full inside you brushing your g spot again and again.

“COM-ING I’M CO-COM-ING OH FUCK! MINNIE OH MY GOD!” You no longer cared who heard, most everyone was gone on holiday anyway. You screamed his name as your pussy juices coated his cock. He braced himself with both hands again hovering over you as he fucked you hard, chasing his high. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him. You started pleading against his lips in between kisses and breaths.

“Cum for me Seungmin... want... want to make you feel good. Please baby cum for me.” Seungmin choked out a moan, his hips stuttered losing rhythm as he came, filling the condom. You were both sweating, shaking, out of breath, his forehead pressed to yours. When he softened inside you he pulled out and got rid of the condom, then climbed back into your bed and held your soft naked body against his. His fingertips tracing across your skin. You sighed and looked up at Seungmin who had the sweetest sadness in his eyes.

“I thought you were a hopeless dream...” You kissed his lips.

“Thank you.” Tears were rimming his eyes and yours.

“Why would you thank me baby? I hurt you... I have so much to make up for... so much lost time...” You shook your head.

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“We do but it could be so much worse, we could have missed out on us, we could have been almost lovers...” A tear slipped from Seungmin’s eye and you brushed it away with your thumb and kissed his lips.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

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