#Last Romance (1988)

[kaeroel]

Cherie Chung in Last Romance 1988

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-six: "The Quiet Morning at Home"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You wake up the morning after the gala with Matt.

Or

Mittens interrupts a moment to cause a little chaos.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: There's a bit of sexual content in this one, but it's mostly a lot of sweet fluff. And some chaotic Mittens Murdock... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @babygirlmurdock @theoraekenslover @wanda-maxamommy @justanerd1

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you attempted to adjust to the bit of light trickling into the bedroom. The muffled sound of the bustling early morning city traffic far below the apartment filtered in through the windows as you continued to gradually wake. The muted and distant sound of cars honking on the busy streets had you appreciating the fact that today was Sunday and you had nowhere to be in a rush.

Inevitably when your eyes had adjusted to the dim morning light they found their way to Matt. He was lying on his side facing towards you with one of his bare, muscular arms resting over the top of the silk sheets. His hand was stretched out towards you on top of the blankets, his fingers only mere inches from where you lay beside him as if he'd been reaching out towards you in his sleep. The thought that he might have been drew a small smile onto your lips.

These were your favorite types of mornings. Slow, sunny ones like this one where the bedroom was always swathed in the faintest golden glow of early morning sunlight slipping its way past the curtains. You loved how the light cast streams of warmth over Matt's sleeping form beside you, somehow making him look almost angelic as he lay there.

You could never resist studying the details of his peaceful expression in the quiet stillness of the weekend mornings whenever you managed to wake before him, either. Watching the steady, even rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets, his plush lips slightly parted. Sometimes, like this morning, you even noted that he almost seemed to be smiling in his sleep, the corners of his lips gently curled upwards. Though in your observation of him today you couldn't help but notice the mess his dark hair currently was atop his head. Heat crept into your cheeks as you recalled what the two of you had done last night at the gala–and then what you'd both done here afterwards. 

Biting your lip as the memories of last night rushed back to you, making you more aware of how naked you and Matt both currently were beneath the sheets, your attention dropped down to the foot of the bed. Mittens wasn't curled in a ball sleeping in his usual spot, which meant he must've woken up early and slipped out through the crack in the bedroom door that you and Matt always kept partially open for him. You figured he was probably out in the living room now, sitting in his cat tree and watching the morning traffic on the street below while trying to scare off the pigeons that occasionally dared to perch on the small ledges of the building outside the window.

Slowly your eyelids leisurely lowered again, a comfortable calm washing over you as you quietly lay in bed. Inhaling a deep breath in, your smile only grew wider on your lips as you relaxed further into the mattress. Despite the woman who'd flirted with Matt at the gala and the way you'd been treated last night–which was apparently exactly how Karen and Foggy had fared in their own respective ways as you'd come to learn from them after the event–things felt perfect right now. As if everything was exactly how it should be.

Though you still couldn't believe that you'd let Matt fuck you in that office last night while hundreds of New York City elite were just outside in the ballroom. The memory of that part of the evening, along with how he'd called you ‘Mrs. Murdock’ and the way it had made you feel, had left you surprisingly and wonderfully lightheaded and shockingly aroused for the rest of the evening. By the time you'd both made it back to the apartment, the pair of you had been so worked up that Matt had quite literally torn your dress right off of you shortly after you'd gotten through the door. A shudder ran through you as you recalled that dark, irresistible look in his eyes when he'd dragged you into the bedroom with him before he'd certainly driven the point home that you were his.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Your eyes abruptly reopened, focusing back on Matt's face at the sound of his sleep-laden voice greeting you. His eyes were also open now, fixed along your chest and most likely listening to the sound of your heartbeat and your breathing. It was something he'd long since confessed he focused on first thing in the mornings to determine whether you were awake or asleep–though he’d also admitted that he just liked listening to the sound.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, a cheeky, sleepy grin slowly stretching across his tired face.

His hand reached out a bit further, closing the distance between the pair of you as his fingers brushed along your bare shoulder. It was a second before your brain realized your body must have been reacting to your thoughts about the things you’d both done after the gala. That must've been the first thing he'd picked up on when he woke.

“Just uh, thinking about last night,” you admitted, shifting closer towards him on the bed. 

“Mmm, last night?” he replied, that sleepy grin still on his lips.

Copying your movements, Matt also moved closer to you on the bed. His hand slid down your shoulder, slipping beneath the sheets as his fingers found their way down the length of your arm and then over your hips. Eventually his fingers dipped down between your bare thighs, your heartbeat steadily increasing under his touch. But then you caught the way his lips twitched downwards at the corner when his fingers paused, his gaze dropping down from your face to where your thighs were hidden beneath the sheets.

“Hopefully I didn't hurt you last night,” he said. 

His fingers carefully traced a few marginally sore spots on the inner part of your thighs. The memory of Matt's teeth sinking into them from the night before sent a pleasant sensation through you and you shook your head lightly along the pillow in response. Your own hand made its way out of the sheets, reaching up towards Matt's face to affectionately run your fingertips over the bit of stubble on his chin.

“You didn't hurt me, Matty,” you assured him. “But I'm taking it that you succeeded in marking me just like you promised you would. I haven’t exactly seen your handiwork yet.”

He smiled a little sheepishly back at you, his eyes making their way back up towards your chin. His head tilted just a fraction as he leaned into your touch, your fingers still delicately trailing their way back and forth along the length of his jaw.

“Guess I really wasn't thinking too clearly when we got back,” he murmured. “Left you quite a few bruises from the way your body sounds.”

His thumb swiped over a few spots on your thigh, his brows creasing together a little as he did. He looked almost upset about what he'd done last night, but you'd certainly enjoyed every bite of his teeth along the inside of your thighs and the flesh of your breasts when he'd been pinning you to the bed last night. You'd been quite vocal about how much you'd liked it last night, too, but it seemed you needed to remind him again now. 

“I'm fine , Matt,” you pressed. “Really. You didn't hurt me. And if you recall, I was certainly enjoying myself. If anything,” you continued, your fingers tenderly gliding their way up his stubbled cheek and past his temple before they gently began to card through his hair, “I kind of like knowing they're there. Even if I haven't seen them yet. I uh…kind of like knowing that you were the one to put them there.”

The expression shifted on Matt's face from sheepish to something mischievous almost immediately. You'd opened your mouth to say something more, but you were quickly quieted when Matt abruptly rose up onto a hand on the bed, his other hand leaving your thigh in order to pull the sheets down from over the top of you, revealing your naked upper torso to the faint chill of the bedroom. Without pause, Matt climbed over the top of you, pinning you between his strong arms as his muscular thighs landed on either side of yours, just like he’d done to you last night.

“What're you doing?” you asked, smiling up at him.

The mischievous grin never left his face as he gazed down at you beneath him. The sheets had fallen down even further on the pair of you, and from this angle, you had an almost perfect and complete view of Matt's entire beautiful and naked front half entirely on display. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you tried to fight back a giggle but failed. The sound only had his smile growing as he hovered above you, his eyes fixed on your chin.

“Making amends,” he answered.

“Making amends for wha–”

You stopped short as Matt's face dipped down towards your chest, his soft lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of your breast. His mouth lingered for a moment, the feel of him against you heating your body almost instantly beneath him. Though when he finally pulled away, you noticed your chest indeed had a handful of love bites marking both of your breasts in a plethora of little bruises. 

Matt shifted just a bit above you before his mouth lowered again, his lips placing another gentle kiss atop yet another mark on the swell of the same breast. Your eyelids slowly lowered, both of your hands coming up to slip their way into his hair, your fingers gently toying with the strands. When Matt shifted above you once more, you could feel his cock stirring awake against the inside of your thigh. 

“ Matt ,” you said, practically sighing out his name between your lips.

He hummed a noise in response, though he seemed quite focused on his current task of apparently kissing every mark he'd made along your breasts last night. Just as you’d begun to think that you wouldn't last long if he decided to keep this up with the marks he had most certainly left between your thighs, you heard a faint noise from the other room at the exact same moment that he must have noticed it, too. 

Your eyes flew open as Matt leaned back, his brows knitting together as his head tilted to the side. You were about to ask him what that sound had been before you heard the distinct pattering of frantic little paws running along the floor. Moments later Mittens jumped up on the bed beside the pair of you, the suddenness of his appearance managing to startle you beneath Matt. You noticed he was holding his tiny blue mouse in his mouth, his dark pupils blown wide as he focused solely on Matt still hovering over you.

“You've got poor timing, buddy,” Matt said, clearly unsurprised by the cat's appearance. 

Mittens dropped the mouse in his mouth down to the bed next to you before he lowered the front half of his body as if he was preparing to pounce. You giggled at the sight, watching as Mittens’ tails began twitching erratically back and forth, his eyes still focused on Matt. He chirped a few noises back at him, his backend raised in the air as he went entirely still except for his tail.

“I think he's got a problem to sort with you, Matt,” you teased. 

One of Matt's dark brows rose up onto his forehead, his own focus still on the cat beside you as he continued to hold himself in place above you.

“Wouldn't do that if I were you,” Matt warned Mittens. “I can take you back to where we found you, you know.”

You gasped, one hand leaving its place in Matt's hair before you playfully swatted his shoulder. “ Matt !” you hissed out, a smile on your face. “We are not getting rid of him!”

Matt's head turned, his focus shifting back to you. “I know that,” he told you, “but it's not like he knows that I’m not–”

Matt's sentence was cut short when Mittens finally pounced across the bed at him, taking Matt's moment of distraction as his chance to attack. He'd launched his little gray body forward, managing to lightly smack the side of Matt's face with his tiny gray paw. Without waiting to witness the outcome of his assault, Mittens spun in a circle along the bed before darting off of it and bolting straight back out of the bedroom.

You broke into a fit of laughter at the flat expression that slid onto Matt’s face. From behind the bedroom door, you could hear the sound of Mittens racing around the living room. 

“And what's so funny?” Matt asked you, a brow arching onto his forehead. 

“Just the fact that Daredevil isn't faster than a cat,” you answered, trying to fight down your amusement. “He got you yet again.”

“Cats aren't nearly as predictable as humans are to me,” Matt pointed out. “It's not like I ever spent my time training to fight cats.”

“Yeah and it–it seems like Mittens is well aware of that,” you said, still struggling to fight back your laughter. “That's why he always sneaks in a boop on you.”

“He does not,” Matt countered, rolling off the top of you. “I knew what he was doing and I let him have his shot.”

“Uh huh,” you said, giggling as you sat up in bed. “Sure you did, Matty.”

Matt blew out a rough sigh, but you saw the grin on his face before he turned and tossed the sheets off of himself. Your mind abruptly shifted back to admiring Matt’s naked form, watching the pull of muscles along his back as he rose up out of bed. Then your gaze dropped lower, lingering on his firm, round ass and the thick muscles along his thighs as he paced his way towards the dresser across the room. As he pulled open a drawer, his head shifted over his shoulder back towards where you lay in the bed.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” he said.

You grinned shamelessly before rolling your eyes and tossing the sheets off of yourself. Climbing out of bed, you paced your way over towards the dresser beside him, opening the drawer that contained your underwear and bras as Matt began to pull on a pair of boxers beside you.

“I always take every opportunity I can,” you told him.

Pulling out a pair of panties, you bent over and began slipping them on. But before you could manage to tug them up your legs, you felt both of Matt’s large palms cupping your ass. Eyes growing wide, your head darted over your shoulder as your gaze flew up towards his face. He was smiling wide back at you, both of his hands giving your ass a squeeze before he returned to finding some clothes to throw on.

“So do I,” he replied.

An amused snort left you, your eyes catching the way Matt’s smile only grew as he continued to focus on getting dressed. You finished tugging your underwear on before putting on a bra next. By the time you’d slipped on some comfortable cotton shorts and a tank top, Matt was already dressed in one of his soft shirts and a pair of gym shorts and was sliding the bedroom door fully open. 

Closing your dresser drawer, you shuffled your way out of the bedroom after him. Though when you caught sight of the closet by the roof access stairs partially ajar, you immediately stopped in your tracks. A hand flew to your mouth to stifle a laugh as your eyes darted over to Mittens. He was sitting at the top of his cat tree, an almost pleased look on his face as his tail swished back and forth beside him. At the faint sound of your laughter, Matt paused his steps towards the kitchen. 

“What?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at you. “What’s so funny?”

You raised a hand, pointing a finger up at Mittens in his cat tree by the window. “He did it again,” you told him, still fighting back a laugh. “The closet door is open.”

Matt turned on the spot towards you, his brows furrowing together on his face as his head canted to the side. You saw his eyes shift around the room as he concentrated before he slowly shook his head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “I was at the gala last night. I didn’t go out in the suit at all.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied, attention returning to Mittens sitting triumphantly in his cat tree, “that clearly doesn’t matter to him. The closet door is open so it had to be him again. Neither of us were in there last night.”

A look of determination crossed Matt’s face before he made his way across the living room and over towards the closet. You stood there silently, watching as he reached a hand out and opened the closet door fully. Matt lowered into a crouch before flipping the unlocked steamer trunk open. He raised the false bottom with one hand, sticking his other inside and feeling around for a moment. After a few seconds he lowered the lid again.

“ How does he keep managing to do this?” Matt asked in awe, closing the steamer trunk lid before rising back up to his feet. “He doesn’t even have hands!”

You shrugged, laughing lightly as you focused back on Mittens in his cat tree. “I have no idea, but you secretly love it,” you answered. “It’s become both of yours’ thing at this point with how often he does it.”

Matt turned back towards you, shaking his head. “It has not,” he argued. “And if you recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted to keep him and have a cat. Not me.”

“And you’re the one who cleans his litterbox like five times a day,” you countered. “You’ve told me countless times now that you fall asleep to his purring at night. And I have no idea how many times you’ve told me that you can’t get up to do something because Mittens fell asleep on your chest. Which,” you continued, enjoying the expression on Matt’s face as you did, “I should actually have him do more often. Maybe I could get more nights in with you since Daredevil is so easily bested by a little gray cat.”

“He does not best me, sweetheart,” Matt retorted, making his way back into the living room. “And he’s not going to best me at his game, either.”

“It’s both of your game,” you corrected him. “You love the feisty little cuddlebug. Stop denying it already because neither of us believe you.”

“He’s crafty, I’ll give him that,” Matt muttered.

You rolled your eyes at Matt once more, watching as his focus shifted to trying to find the gloves of his Daredevil suit that Mittens had yet again snuck out of the steamer trunk and hid somewhere in the apartment. It was something he'd been doing for weeks now and you knew Matt loved the challenge even if he wouldn't openly admit it to you. 

“Alright, I'll go get a pot of coffee brewing while you play with Mittens,” you teased Matt. “But just know that neither of us believe he's not your baby and that you're not his cat dad now.”

“I am not a cat dad,” Matt off-handedly disagreed as he lifted a pillow on the couch, feeling around for his glove.

You began making your way past him and towards the kitchen, grinning at Matt's laser focus as he searched for his gloves. As you stopped in front of the coffee machine, you looked back into the living room at Mittens. He was contentedly watching Matt meticulously make his way around the room in search of the missing part of his suit.

“He loves you, doesn't he, Mittens?” you called out. 

The cat's gray head turned in your direction, his green eyes focused on you. He let out a loud meow almost as if he'd actually responded to your question. As Matt rose up from the floor beside the couch, having just been checking underneath it for his gloves, you heard him mutter out the word ‘liar.’ Breaking into a fit of laughter, you turned around and focused on making coffee for you and Matt, grateful for the relaxing Sunday morning at home with both of them.

[therealvinelle]

I want to get into old movies (say 1930s to maybe 1980s) because I watched Casablanca and it was really good, so I followed it up with Sunset Boulevard (1950) which was also really good. Then a friend recommended Night of the Comet (1984) which was very different but really good too. I think the old movies which survived this long were better written then most of the stuff that comes out now.

Sooo... do you have any favorite old movies? Or just general recommendations (would also be interested in Muffin's recs if she's got any)

This is my third time typing this out for you... browser keeps reloading.

I do love older movies, you have come to the right place, @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin loves older movies too (I'm saying "older", not "old", since 1980's movies aren't old and I refuse to believe they are).

I'll give you my recs by genre, not decade.

And this list is really a list of the movies that came to mind as I sat down to type this, so please, please come back with a more specific request as 1930's-1980's really covers... most of the movies that have been made.

Action

Jaws Very famous movie, this is Henrik Ibsen's Enemy of the People but with sharks.

Terminator What do you do if you lose the war, but you have a time machine? Travel back in time to kill your enemy's mother before she can birth him. Meanwhile in the 1980's Sarah Connor is having a very bad day.

Epics, romance, biographical and historical (yes, I'm lumping these together)

Amadeus About a man who is not Mozart, and upset about the fact.

Bridge on the River Kwai One of my all-time favorite movies: man is torn between loyalty to his country, and building a great bridge (this is a misleading summary: he's not torn at all, bridge wins hands down). The ending is parodied in Tropic Thunder, if you've seen that movie.

Dangerous Liaisons (1988) Sexy French aristocrats conspire to ruin each other's lives with sex.

Doctor Zhivago By my favorite director, this is a love story that really feels like Lawrence of Arabia if Lawrence was a woman and they were in Russia.

Godfather I and II Not overrated.

Lawrence of Arabia Man keeps trying to quit his job because sometimes all desert and no break from desert makes Lawrence a homicidal boy. Allenby says "Nonsenese, chap, you're doing wonderfully!" Cinematic history is made.

Horror and thrillers

The Exorcist I sometimes wonder if this movie should not have been made, because lesser movies have tried to recreate what Exorcist managed so well for decades, and all they've done is make bad movies that make me wish I was watching the Exorcist.

Nosferatu The year was 1922, no real precedent for copyright infringement had been had, and the producers of this movie which is definitely not Dracula by Bram Stocker were shocked and appalled they were... sued?? For theft of intellectual property? No!!! Coincidentally the most faithful adaptation of Dracula by Bram Stoker in existence. And free literally everywhere since it's 102 years old, you can watch this movie on its wikipedia page.

Sunset Boulevard While it's a well-known fact that a lot of silent movie actors and actresses were unable to adjust to the change when "talkies" were introduced, and they subsequently lost their careers, the window for casting one such washed up actress has long since closed. Sunset Boulevard, released in 1950, was able to do this however which makes it all the more meta and delightful.

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? The only two people who hate each other more than the sisters this movie is about, were the actresses who played them. To the point of Joan Crawford sabotaging the movie's chances with the Oscars, because she hated Betty Davies that much (Betty Davies called her a stupid idiot for doing this).

Musicals

Fiddler on the Roof Just watch it.

My Fair Lady "The rain in Spain falls mainly on Henry Higgins because he's stupid."

Westerns

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kidd Fun romp about two charming criminals, and how good things don't always last.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly I frankly forget what the plot was for this one, I just remember having a great time watching it.

Foreign section

Det syvende innseglet (The Seventh Seal) A knight plays a game of chess with Death.

Jean de Florette + Manon des Sources French accountant moves to the countryside to farm rabbits, this does not go well for him. In the sequel, his daughter has gotten interesting.

La vita è bella (Life is Beautiful) When we watched this in Italian class I had to leave during the first half to go the school nurse, came back during the second half. Greatest whiplash of my life.

Ladri di bicicletta (Bicycle Thieves) Some poor fool looked at Italy after WWII and thought "I bet people want a depressing movie about poverty". The movie bombed, but it's very good and I recommend it.

Ran King Lear, but in Japan.

Veiviseren (Pathfinder) First ever Saami movie, based on an old legend. Strongly recommend.

Bonus: TV shows

Columbo (first two seasons only) Sometimes you're the cleverest little criminal in the world :) but there's a stupid man in a stupid coat who won't stop asking you stupid questions about things he shouldn't be so obsessed about because it's making you look guilty (which you are but he's being rude!)

I, Claudius Fantastic about the imperial Roman family in the Julio-Claudian dynasty. And available for free on youtube!

The Prisoner Unnamed man tries unsuccessfully to leave a beautiful village. You can watch the episodes in any order you like, doesn't matter, he's not getting out of that village.

Bonus: 90's movies

Goodfellas Hilarious, horrible, and so entertaining. A mafia movie about horrible people who like money.

Se7en One of the only noir movies I've liked, this is something of a comfort movie for me. This and Silence of the Lambs are mandatory yearly watches for me. Watch this and you'll finally get all those "WHAT'S IN THE BOX??" jokes.

Silence of the Lambs Possibly my favorite feminist movie, to the point where I sincerely believed this was appropriately described as a chick flic. It's the film where Clarice Starling discovers the only person who'll treat her like an equal is the serial killer cannibal.

The Usual Suspects Your parents have seen this movie, and it was huge for them.

Total Recall Just a great adaptation of one of my favorite short stories.

Unforgiven THE Western movie, what you should do is watch a bunch of Clint Eastwood Westerns and then wrap it up with this one because it's a sequel to all of them.

Bonus: directors to look for

Ingmar Bergman (watch his movies and discover a lot of the films you like are just remakes of his things)

Clint Eastwood (a lot of his movies are newer, but he's so good. You should watch his things, I promise you will find one you like.)

Blake Edwards (fantastic comedic director, same sense of humor as Muffin and myself if that tells you anything)

Alfred Hitchock (he's not in fact overrated)

David Lean (god of directors)

Pier Paolo Pasolini (huge name in Italian cinema)

Steven Spielberg (also not overrated)

Billy Wilder (Sunset Boulevard, among others. Hilarious director)

Please. Give me a more specific genre.

[dramashii]

“Well, it seems to me that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship." ― Gillian Anderson

Category: Friends to Lovers

Soundtrack #1 | Reply 1988 | Twenty-Five Twenty-One | Romance is a Bonus Book | Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo | Fight For My Way | Hospital Playlist

[deramin2]

I don't know how to really express this except to come across as a "kids these days" scold, but so much of the criticism of queerness in Good Omens would simply not be a thing if kids these days watched more 20th century queer media. Or more complex indie queer media in general.

People seem to want a show that's like the straight stories they grew up with but gay. Or the gay fanfiction they grew up with. But that's not really the tradition it's coming from. First off the novel was released in 1990. Queer film classics of the time are Dead Poet's Society (1989) and Torch Song Trilogy (1988). The TV miniseries Tales of the City (1993) wasn't made until 3 years later and it was so far out there it never had a huge audience. Philadelphia (1993) is also 3 years out and was basically the first big studio queer film. The first fluffy queer Hallmark-style romcom wasn't until Big Eden in 2000, a full 10 years after publication.

Queer stories from the time it was written were about complex and often fraught relationships between people who the world was trying to force apart. There is an incredibly strong tradition in queer films of relationships with no guarantees they will work out both in the face of their personal baggage and the weight of the world. Take a film like Torch Song Trilogy that's about the two great loves of Arnold Beckoff's life over 9 years and how homophobia shapes them. Both externally (especially Allen) and internally like Ed struggling with his bisexuality and being terrified of being publicly out. Written and starred in by Harvey Fierstein, who identified as a gay man at the time and only came out as nonbinary last year.

The Boys In The Band (1968 play, filmed 1970 and 2020) was a monumental moment in Broadway history where finally there was a play about gay men in their own words where no one died and very strongly showed that homosexuality doesn't make people miserable but homophobia sure does. But that homophobia also throws their personal lives into constant turmoil and none of them are in happy relationships, although Hank and Larry are devoted to each other in their own fucked up way.

"Relationships are complicated and hard to make work and sometimes a struggle against the odds" is an aesthetic of classic queer film making. Partly it was influenced by the Hays Code (although independent films were not bound to it), partly influenced by the rampant queerphobia in society at the time that was inescapable. But it's also an aesthetic choice to resist the banal and unrealistic relationship depictions of straight media. There are actual stakes to the relationship. Queer people were actively resisting a world that said "Romance is seeing someone across the room and instantly falling in love with each other and little conflicts happen along the way but ultimately they're destined to be together and everything is happily ever after." Recall that "stalking as romance" was a completely inescapable trope in 1980s straight romance films, and every goddamn movie was being turned into a romance film.

So queer people in film and television when they can make what they please have a long tradition of saying instead "People don't always realize the feelings they've developed for a queer partner right away. They may have reasons for denying those feelings that are both a reflection of the cruelty in society and of their own insecurities. People struggle with where they belong and their relationships reflect that. Loving someone doesn't mean they don't also drive you crazy and you might fight with them constantly. But that doesn't negate the love or that feeling that even if things aren't okay, they're better with that person around. But maybe that person can't stay around. The world may be against you. And also maybe you don't just want that one person in your life. Soulmates is a very flawed model. Sometimes the strongest love is a struggle with yourself and the world and your person. You have to overcome yourself first. Happily ever after is a lie. You may be happy for a while, and hopefully for a long while, but everything ends. And you have to be ready to love again. Also your platonic bonds are just as important and life-altering as your romantic ones. Sometimes those platonic bonds include fucking if you want them to. Real life isn't a bunch of platitudes and world-altering moments, it's daily work to better yourself and the world around you. Especially when things just fucking suck. But also remember to have fun and fuck the haters. People who don't support you can eat rocks and you should yell at them more to shut the fuck up."

That is a fundamentally different outlook on what a "good relationship depiction" looks like. Personally, I thought I hated romance movies and then I started watching queer romance movies and discovered I love them and watch them all the time. Because it turns out what I hated was relationships being shown that had nothing at all to do with reality and privileged incredibly toxic ideals. Finally there was complexity, there were stakes, and there were people who had to truly want to be together enough to fight the world for it and not because they happened to be there. There were people actually talking out their problems and looking for resolutions. (And sometimes that resolutions was "I can't fucking deal with this bullshit anymore and I'm out.") For the first time it felt real.

I'm an aroace trans gay man. Nothing about relationships or being in relationships has come easy to me, and the whole paradigm of straight patriarchal romance depictions makes absolutely no sense to me. It's completely alien. Queer romance stories actually feel human.

And that's the tradition Good Omens is coming from, even as it's being retold in 2019-2023 and hopefully beyond. Gaiman's work has always been based in that queer media paradigm. (I've been remiss and daunted and haven't read Pratchett but from what I do know his work also seems to sit more in that world view.) It's a beautiful cinematic tradition and it's baffling to me that people would resist it instead of embracing it for being honest.

And that's when I turn into a crotchety old man complaining about the youth not connecting with the history of their beautiful culture and instead begging for assimilation into a shithole allocishet media landscape that doesn't actually want them except for their money and has nothing at all interesting or valuable to say. But it's very funny (annoying) to me when people claim Good Omens is someone against queer culture when it's so thoroughly bathed in the best of queer media's storytelling traditions and what people are asking for is straight media with the serial numbers filed off. Like, stop being boring please and know literally anything about the culture the adults in the room lived through and were influenced by. The world didn't begin in 2015.

EDIT: I also want to add that in straight media arcs are linear. Traditionally in queer media arcs are cyclical. Queer media very often depicts people going around in circles relearning the same lesson over and over as they inch towards it sinking in. But every time they go through the cycle they gain just a little bit more enlightenment and slowly move towards a better place. From the comments this is an immensely important distinction. People don't actually have cathartic moments where suddenly all their past bad programming is shed and they saunter forward a new person with none of their old baggage. In reality people fall into the same patterns over and over even though they have had every opportunity to learn better. "People magically get better" is a trope of straight media that's an outright and frankly dangerous lie. Again, Good Omens follows the queer tradition not the straight one and it's depicted 6,000 years of that cycle. The world didn't end, and the wheel keeps turning, as it always has and always will. That's so fundamental to queer storytelling traditions I forgot to even mention it.

[lenievi]

My fave spones fics

It's spones day!, so I decided to finally publish this extremely subjective short list I wrote years ago (hence no new fics). If a link doesn't work, put it through a wayback machine.

---

TOS McCoy/Spock romance, friendship, anything in between

A Man of Integrity by Jane Carnall. M. 18k. A mirror ‘verse story. Spock didn’t mind meld with McCoy, but kept him for long enough that the rest left without him. Will McCoy get back home? Written in 1989. (ao3)

Blue Under the Colourless Sky by vail-kagami (LJ). T. 4k. This. was. so. good. And melancholic. And bittersweet. And saying more would spoil it. (death is discussed)

Catharsis by babel. E. 40k+ still WIP. This is all I ever wanted from a McCoy/Spock fic. Follows season 1 of TOS. What if Spock and McCoy had an arrangement.

Coming Through in Waves by Cirth. T. 6k. “Spock dislikes doctors.” This was just lovely. A great character study from Spock’s POV. Includes room sharing and bathroom sharing. 

Deepening of the Spirit by lynndyre. G. 1k. A short fic set after the last film. Sweet and warm, finally getting together after all those years.

Distances series by berlynn_wohl. G-E. 54k. The first story is pre-slash and can be read as a standalone mission fic. A nice series spanning years. Written in 2007.

Down The Long Corridors Of Air by Thistlerose. T. 7k. This is another fic that demonstrates quite well what I like in the pairing. “A circle has no end. Spock and McCoy over the years.” Spoilers up to ST VII. Written in 2009.

Further Study Needed by J. Rosemary Moss. G. 2k. Cute pre-canon fic. McCoy tries to teach Spock how to flirt. Pre-slash. Written in 2008.

My Little Town by Phoenix. M. 8k. Post-movies. McCoy’s mother dies, and McCoy goes back to Earth to sell the old house. Spock accompanies him. A bit sad, melancholic story where the two of them finally stop avoiding what’s between them.

something bright, traveling fast by lupinely. G. 7k. “After fal-tor-pan, Spock considers existence.“ Movie-era, really lovely.

Spock of Baker Street by K. V. Wylie. M. 18k. Crossover with Doctor Who. The Guardian of Forever “kidnaps” Spock and McCoy, and throws them into late 19th century Britain. They meet a guy named Arthur, and live at Baker Street. And investigate a murder. Established relationship.

Teshuvah by K. V. Wylie. PG. 20k. A reincarnation AU - i.e. McCoy gets to relive his life again.

The Secrets of Pine Cones by K. V. Wylie. PG. 9k. Movie-era. Married Mc/S. McCoy is observing Ramadan, and this year, after many years spend together, Spock stays at home and keeps him company for the first time. A very lovely fic, written from Spock’s POV.

Through A Glass, Darkly by Jane Carnall. M. 67k. mirror ‘verse. pon farr. mind bond. Written in 1988. (on ao3: prime spones part and the mirror spones 3-parter)

AOS McCoy/Spock

This Must Be The Place by therev. M. 38k. Spock learns that Spock Prime and his Leonard McCoy were in a relationship, and... This was one of the first mc/s fics I read, and it’s still among my favourites. It also showed me that aos!mccoy/spock could work. The mood is a bit melancholic (and perhaps a bit slice-of-life-ish), it’s set post-Beyond, and it has Joanna.

---

also older spones fics recs (i.e. written before the reboot)

[pierppasolini]

Last Romance (1988) // dir. Yonfan

[kittyplushy]

I'LL BET I'M THE BEST HOUSE GUEST YOU'VE EVER HAD!

| Yume Playlist | Silly 1 | Silly 2 | A song that isn't on Spotify but is so them ^_^ |

House Guest is my main selfship/yumeship! It is a romantic relationship between Samantha Strong and Julianne Lucky (that's not her real surnaaaame!). Their relationship, dynamic, and fate are heavily built around the Beneath The Trees Where Nobody Sees universe as well as Nothing Painted Blue's song Houseguest. This ship is comforting, absurd, morbid, and adorable! Everything you might wanna know about them is in this masterpost from character details, links to important rambles, and links to all the fanfiction I've written about them.

Before you proceed, I highly encourage you all to please please read Beneath The Trees Where Nobody Sees. This ship is quite canon compliant and takes place a year after the events of the story. Please also read Präludium (the prequel story) because the events are also referenced sparcely. I will be discussing spoilers in this post from this point forward.

On August 23rd, 1987, a foreigner bought an apartment in a residential building at the edge of Woodbrook, Vermont. Then on September 1st, 1987, the same foreigner came to the Burly Brown Bear Hardware shop to inquire about home renovations and buy rudimentary materials and tools for a shelf. While wrapping up the bought goods, the shop owner shuffled around the counter for a cutter to slice off some cling wrap. Luckily, the foreigner always kept a pair of special scissors close to her at all times. She whipped it out of her purse, startling the poor bear.

This wouldn't be the last time the two would interact.

JULIANNE [MIDDLE NAME] [LAST NAME] "LUCKY" is a Filipino 24-27 year old illustrator and part-time art teacher. She moved to Woodbrook in 1987, a year after the infamous murders after seeing the mostly positive reputation of the little town and the fairly cheap apartment rates. She is a positive, introverted, and sensitive young adult still pinning her life down after wandering for so long in many thankless jobs/relationships/cities/families. She is a lesbian! Her favorite things include poetry, animation, cooking and baking, strawberries, and stars. She has reoccurring nightmares about a jackal in her closet.

Julianne develops an innocent crush on SAMANTHA STRONG, the hardware lady who seems to be tolerant enough to her nonsense. Woodbrook, of course, is a place of miracles and magic so think of Julianne's surprise when romance is suddenly around the corner! She's only heard pleasant, pitiful things about the woman from neighbors and locals, but nothing too damning to steer her away. Well, unless you count the butcher who's oddly upset with her on any given day. Nobody knows and nobody is gonna tell her that she's walking into a forest fire coming closer and closer to the eye of a spiral.

The events of House Guest take place in between the time-skip of Book 1 and Book 2 (Rite Of Spring). Julianne and Sam begin dating in 1988 and their story ends in late 1990.

FIC MASTERLIST!

(Easter egg: the incriminating post. the insanity began here.)

HOUSE GUEST LORE: Read this one first! The general outline of the relationship! This was written very early into me developing it but this is meant to paint the broader ideas and how they weave into BTTWNS' main story.

These are arranged in chronological order. The journal fics are told in Sam's perspective and are meant to be read like a regular issue.

PRE-DEER INCIDENT

Someone has a crush!

Magician crush

She! Loves! You!

Well, this is embarrassing.

It spreads like the kudzu

Sleepover!

It's raining....

There's a first for everything

Keep me close to your heart.. (2 in 1!)

Peeking into the apartment

Tell me what's wrong

Beach episode

POST-DEER INCIDENT

What to do when your girlfriend finds out you're a serial killer.

Fill in the blanks.

Sam's old friend pays a visit.

BONUS: IMPORTANT INFODUMPS/RAMBLEPOSTS ABOUT HOUSE GUEST!

🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 goes together with 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 |🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓 | 🍓

[retropopcult]

The Wonder Years, pilot episode (1988)

According to Entertainment Weekly, behind the scenes another romance was beginning, too: "I had a total crush on Fred [Savage]," McKellar told EW 35 years later. "It was that little-kid crush where it's so innocent and so intense. It's not a little thing - you're like, 'I'm in love!' "

When it came time to film the kiss — which, in the episode, takes place just after Winnie learns that her older brother was killed in combat in Vietnam — she recalls, "I was so excited, jumping out of my skin. I was trying to remain calm and play the scene correctly, but I was about to have my first kiss ever. It was my first kiss in real life."

Of course, it wasn't what you'd call a perfect moment: "After we had our first kiss, the entire crew erupted into applause. And it was just so humiliating. Like, I'm trying to have a private moment here!" (Also, as Savage told EW last year, "Our moms were sitting up on a hill above us looking down. I remember being so nervous about that.")

Still, the then-preteen McKellar and Savage shared a sweet, and ultimately short, romance of sorts. "At that point, [when we filmed the kiss], I kind of thought he might have a crush on me too, but I didn't know," the actress recalls. "Later on, he actually wrote me a love letter in real life, and we wrote each other a couple more letters. But then that was kind of it. When we came back to do more of the show, things quickly devolved into this annoying brother-sister relationship."

[fuckyeaharthuriana]

My favorite arthurian movies (part 2/3)

More details (and youtube links for the less known movies) under cut. Some of these I love, some are so bad so good, some are beautifully epic, some are just funny.

New Adventures of a Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1988) (youtube part 1) (youtube part 2): No idea what the characters are saying as this is in Russian, but the visual of this movie is gorgeous and so is Mordred.

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1989) (youtube): Lovely Connecticut Yankee movie with a girl as a protagonist. It adds some new scenes, very heart warming and cute and has a scene of Guinevere dancing.

Guinevere (1994): Loose adaptation of Persia Wolley's Guinevere books. A bit boring, but this is the first time we see Guinevere as protagonist. Focusing on her marriage with Arthur, inhereting her father's kingdom and her love for Lancelot.

A Young Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1995) (youtube) : Another Connecticut Yankee movie, the quality is not as good as others but it has an interesting Galahad (who often is not in movie) and an amazing Morgana.

First Knight (1995): Romance movie between Lancelot and Guinevere.

A Knight in Camelot (1998): The last Connecticut Yankee movies, one of the funniest ones too, with Whoopi Goldberg as the protagonist.

Quest for Camelot (1998): Only slightly arthurian, as the focus is on two new characters (one is called Gareth but has nothing to do with Sir Gareth). Set during Arthur's kingdom. Animated movie about the daughter of Lionel returning Excalibur to King Arthur.

The Excalibur Kid (1999) (youtube): One of my favorite movies and one of the only movies where Morgause is present. Focusing on a kid ending up in King Arthur's times as future king of Camelot because Morgause feels he is easier to manipulate than Arthur, the real king. I shipped him and Arthur.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (2002) (youtube): Animated short movie on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, visually beautiful, following the story very loyally.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-five: "The Evening of Insecurity"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: You attend a fancy gala as Matt's date.

Or

Old insecurities resurface, making you question your place at Matt's side.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: The gala smut you've all been patiently waiting for (AKA there's semi-public sex in this installment)! Enjoy the return of Spicy Matty because this installment is slightly angsty but definitely filthy. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @babygirlmurdock @theoraekenslover @wanda-maxamommy @justanerd1

Sitting in the back of the limo, your eyes were fixed on the skyline of the city flying by through the open sunroof. All the bright lights intermittently shining along the tall buildings stood out against the night sky–like false stars glittering amongst the city. As the excited chatter among your friends filled the air, you felt your nerves for the evening increase, gnawing at your stomach as you sat silently beside Matt. Occasionally your eyes would drop down to sneak glances at him in his tuxedo beside you as he focused on the conversation, a smile drawn wide on his handsome face as he listened to Foggy. His presence gave you a bit of comfort at least, though admittedly the sight of him dressed so well also caused a stir of anxious butterflies to flutter in your gut.

You’d gotten ready with Marci and Karen at Karen’s apartment for the evening, so you hadn’t actually seen Matt until he’d shown up with Foggy in the limo a little bit ago. Of course he’d looked just as breathtaking in a tuxedo as you remembered him looking during that charity benefit where you’d received an award last year. The dress shirt and suit coat he had on fit his broad, muscular torso just right, making you wish you’d been alone with him in the back of the limo on the ride to the gala. You were certain you’d have ruined your makeup and messed his hair and clothes if it had been just the pair of you alone, too. He looked more than good enough for you to want to throw decorum straight out of the sunroof if it wasn't for the fact that you both had an audience. You were longing to rip that bow tie off of him and tear open the buttons on his shirt. Your fingers practically itched in your lap to yank the zipper of his dress pants down, your body refraining from climbing on top of him and–

Matt’s hand tightened around yours in your lap, the gesture drawing you instantly from your thoughts. Gaze dropping down from the sunroof once more, you saw he’d focused his attention on you now. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but you could see the little coy smile now playing along his lips. He’d clearly picked up on what you’d been thinking about, the thought causing you to clear your throat as you ducked your head, grinning to yourself. Matt leaned over towards you in the seat, his mouth just beside your ear when he spoke.

“Trust me, I’m thinking about after the gala already, too,” he whispered.

At the sound of his deep voice in your ear, the nerves that had been in your stomach were abruptly replaced with a fire that quickly found its way through your veins, heating you from head to toe where you sat. Eyes still averted towards the deep red heels just visible beneath your floor length black dress, you couldn’t resist the words from spilling out of your lips next.

“Actually,” you whispered back, “I was thinking about what I wish we could’ve done beforehand. In the limo. If it had just been us.”

You caught the sharp intake of his breath beside your ear, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you fought back the smile growing further on your face. His hand gripped yours tighter as you felt the limo begin to slow to a stop.

“Oh, hey!” Foggy exclaimed from across the large limo seat. “Looks like we're finally here! Time to rub elbows with the filthy rich, drink all their booze, and eat all their little fancy finger foods!”

You were too focused on the presence of Matt beside you to excitedly stare out the window with your friends now that the limo was gradually pulling to a stop. Instead, you were very aware of the side of Matt's body currently pressed against the side of yours where you sat.

“Might want to control your thoughts tonight, sweetheart,” Matt murmured, his mouth still beside your ear. “I might not be able to hear them, but I can certainly guess at them.”

Raising your gaze from your shoes, you turned and focused on the cocky grin along his mouth. Taking a slow breath in, you fought to control the urge to force him to stay back in the limo with you, desperate to keep him all to yourself for the evening instead of actually attending the event. It was probably a good thing that you hadn't gotten ready together at the apartment because the pair of you might have never left, especially if your first week of living together was anything to go by. Matt dressed in a tuxedo was a turn on all on its own–a sight you were absolutely weak for.

“You're doing it again,” he cheekily pointed out. 

“I can't help it,” you whined softly, aware of your friends already beginning to exit the limo. “It's hard to not have thoughts when you're dressed like that.”

Forcing your eyes away from Matt, you began to scoot along the length of the seat, making your way towards the limo's exit with Matt following behind after you. Carefully you slid out of the vehicle, trying to make sure you remained covered as you stepped outside due to the high slit in the side of your dress. You sent the driver a smile and a polite ‘thank you’ as you took a couple of shaky steps past where he was holding the car door open.

Smoothing a hand down the silk of your dress, your other clutching your purse, you turned back around just in time to see Matt gracefully ease his way out of the back of the limo. You almost lost your footing as you saw him rising to his full height in his tuxedo, your heart skipping at the sight of him. His covered gaze quickly found you, probably having caught the stutter of the traitorous organ in your chest. The smile that formed along his mouth caused your heart to start up again, pounding rapidly and unevenly inside of you. 

The grin remained as he stepped over towards you, your breath coming in sharper as you tried to contain yourself. Matt held out an arm expectantly in your direction and you swallowed hard, reaching out and directing his large hand to your upper arm. His fingers curled firmly around your bare skin, the heat of them raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the night. 

Matt leaned in towards you, amusement in his voice as he whispered, “Breathe, sweetheart. I don't want you passing out on me.”

Heat was burning at your cheeks as a sudden timidity began to overtake you. That feeling like you didn't belong at this man's side–a feeling you hadn't really felt to this extent in quite some time–was suddenly washing over you. It didn't help that you were leading him up onto the sidewalk and over towards your friends where they were standing in front of the elegant ballroom the event was taking place at. Foggy looked handsome as well in his tuxedo as he stood beside both the stunning Marci and Karen, the pair looking like glamorous models in their dresses. 

As you led the both of you towards your friends, Matt silent at your side, your eyes were shifting around at all the well-dressed people making their way towards the entrance. Almost immediately your nerves hit you like a truck once more, your foot twisting in your heels as you took another step. Briefly you faltered, but Matt’s hand gripped your arm tight and quickly caught you, stopping you before you could fall. 

“Relax, everything is going to be alright,” Matt assured you, his mouth once more beside your ear as you both continued walking towards the ballroom entrance. “I've got you tonight Bambi. Just take a deep breath.”

“Right,” you murmured back, nodding your head quickly as nerves continued to fill your stomach. “Tonight will–will be fun.”

“I'll make sure you enjoy yourself here, sweetheart,” he promised. “Just relax and focus on me. That's all you need to do.”

You glanced at him beside you skeptically, your stomach anxiously flipping inside of you. “Okay, that normally calms me down, but tonight is a bit different. It’s not that you don't always look good, but tonight you look insanely good, Matt. Which almost makes me more nervous than relaxed.”

He chuckled lightly, focusing on you at his side as he walked. “And does it make you more or less nervous to know you're coming back home with me after all of this no matter what?” he asked.

“More nervous,” you immediately answered.

“Mmm,” he hummed back thoughtfully, his attention returning ahead of him. “Then maybe don't think about what I'm going to do to you when we get home tonight.”

You laughed weakly as the pair of you approached your friend group. Unfortunately what he'd said had only made you think about going home with this handsome man after the gala even more. And that was only increasing your anxiety for some reason. You definitely felt out of place at his side now that you'd left the safe confines of the limo, your eyes taking in the sight of all the stunning couples around you.

“Yeah, not helping,” you whispered. 

Matt laughed lightly at your side, his warm hand affectionately squeezing your bicep. You didn't know how you had thought you could handle attending this event as his date, but now that you were here, you certainly hoped you could survive it.

Focusing on your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you checked over your makeup and hair once more, making sure everything still looked as good as it had when you’d first left Karen’s apartment. Satisfied that nothing seemed too out of place, even with the occasional kisses Matt had snuck in so far this evening, your hands once more smoothed down the sides of your silk dress. 

You had to admit, the dress you’d chosen for tonight looked good on you. It hit in all the right places and the side slit that reached mid-way up your thigh was surprisingly flattering. You’d certainly never worn anything quite so beautiful before, only having splurged because Matt had practically urged you to buy something you really wanted to wear tonight.

But despite how beautiful the dress was and how good it made you feel to be in it, the nerves still fluttered frantically in your stomach as you stared back at your reflection. A frown pulled the corners of your mouth downwards, your eyes focused on the way they’d dropped. The slight confidence boost you’d felt tonight after getting ready with Karen and Marci had almost completely disappeared in the first hour of you being here with Matt. 

You’d followed him around, his arm looped through yours, politely greeting the people that approached him and smiling as they discussed varying topics. You’d joined the conversations whenever you’d had a chance, but nothing had fully shaken the insecurity that had only continued to grow inside of you every single time Matt introduced you as his girlfriend, because you could’ve sworn a few women had openly sneered at you. Others had given you a once over, their defined brows arching in something like distaste as they eyed you.

You knew Matt couldn’t exactly see what was going on, but you wondered if he’d somehow known something was happening. He’d often pull you further into his side throughout the evening and whisper comforting words before planting a lingering kiss to your temple. And while the gesture occasionally eased a flare up of your insecurity, that feeling always quickly returned whenever the pair of you passed some gorgeous, model-like woman in what was clearly a designer dress as she turned her nose up at you. Or as some other well-dressed man shot you a curious, almost offended glance. You’d soon found yourself wondering how your friends had been so excited about attending an event with all these stuck-up New York City elite–though it seemed like all of them were fairing vastly better this evening than you. And that only made you further feel like you didn’t belong here, walking the ballroom with Matt’s arm looped through yours as if you actually could be the one at his side.

As you were adjusting a loose strand of hair while looking at your reflection, a woman entered the bathroom and approached the opposite end of the counter, ignoring you entirely as she began fixing her makeup. Squaring your shoulders, you forced yourself out of your spiraling thoughts now that you were no longer alone. They weren't going to help anything tonight anyway. 

You reached a hand out, grabbing your clutch purse from off the counter before turning and heading towards the exit. Making your way down the short hallway outside of the bathrooms, you smiled politely whenever you passed someone as sweat began to dampen your palms. When you finally re-entered the extravagantly decorated ballroom a moment later, the sound of the live orchestra playing hit your ears just over the noise of multiple conversations. Feeling your nerves increase even further at the room full of people, you mentally reminded yourself that you only needed to survive for a few more hours here before you and Matt could go home.

Eyes scanning the room, it didn't take you long before you found Matt among the crowd of people. He was standing exactly where you’d left him a few minutes ago when you’d excused yourself to the restroom, but now you noticed he was talking to a different group of people than when you’d been at his side initially–three men and one of those gorgeous, model-like women who was standing a little too close to him. With a sigh, you plastered a bright smile onto your face once more and began making your way through the crowd and over towards the group, walking carefully so as not to trip in your heels. But your smile faltered the closer you neared the group when you began to pick up on the conversation.

“Oh, I apologize,” you overheard one of the men saying to Matt. “I truly thought she was your date tonight. You both just look so good standing together, I only assumed.”

You felt your feet come to an abrupt stop along the floor at the man’s words, your heart thudding so heavily in your chest that you could feel it. That was the last thing you wanted to hear tonight. More confirmation that you weren’t good enough to be at Matt’s side–that you didn’t belong there.

“Ahh, well, considering I’m blind, I can't exactly see why you'd say that,” Matt replied.

His tone had been charming and polite as usual when he'd responded, but you’d caught the edge to his words that the others clearly hadn't. Nevertheless, the entire group still laughed at his joke, but you winced as you stood there rooted to the spot feeling like your heart was gradually sinking to the floor.

“But I can assure you all, my lovely girlfriend is around here somewhere,” Matt added on. “And I’m sure she’ll be back very soon.”

Swallowing hard, you willed yourself to take another step over towards the group, attempting to push down the hurt the man’s comment had caused. You knew it was only a mistake, but that didn't stop it from unleashing even more insecure thoughts that were now running wild in your head, making you feel even worse than you had been a few minutes ago in the bathroom. Though it was taking everything in you to not have your fears feel validated by that small mistake.

You’d barely managed to take two steps closer before you noticed the woman beside Matt raise a hand and place it along his shoulder. The sight had your feet abruptly come to a stop once more. You noticed Matt had stiffened at her touch, but the sight of her so casually and intimately beginning to rub her hand along him immediately elicited a strong reaction from within you. Sick churned in your stomach, your heart nearly launching itself out of your mouth at the sight of this woman so brazenly touching him like that. As if she had every right to do so. The urge to vomit only increased when she leaned in towards him with a seductive smile spread across her damn red lips.

“If I was your lovely girlfriend,” she purred at him, “I’d know far better than to leave you alone in a room full of gorgeous women. Wouldn’t want one coming along and stealing you away from me, if I was her.”

Gritting your teeth, you felt tears burn at your eyes as the other men in the group burst into laughter at her comment. As if what she'd said was actually funny and the implication of her words wasn't vastly inappropriate. The woman just stood there smiling at Matt, her hand still rubbing his shoulder. You took in the frown along Matt’s lips for a second before your feet suddenly moved of their own accord, spinning you around and taking you directly away from the group. Too focused on fighting back tears in your eyes, your hands nearly crushing your clutch purse as you stalked off, you hadn't caught what Matt responded to the woman with. 

By the time you'd finally weaved your way around the mass of people and found yourself out of the ballroom and in an empty hallway, you'd completely lost your sense of direction. You had no idea where you'd wandered off to, your mind too busy cruelly playing back the mental image of that woman touching Matt the way she had. Saying the things she'd said. 

Right now you wanted to scream. To collapse onto the floor and cry, giving into your spiraling thoughts that came rushing back to you–all the ones trying to tell you that you’d never be good enough for Matt. That you didn't belong at his side at events like this. That you would never be the right woman for him.

Throwing a hand over your mouth, you attempted to muffle the choked sound of a sob that you were desperately fighting back. Because you knew that you couldn't cry here no matter how much you wanted to break down. You didn't want to ruin Matt's evening with your insecurities, the very same ones which you thought you'd put to rest already when it came to you being with him. Yet here you were, hiding in a hallway and trying not to cry because some woman was hitting on him in front of you again . Upset because some guy had mistaken her as his date just because of how she looked standing next to him.

Sniffling hard, you tried to force yourself to stop getting so worked up over all of this. This wasn’t the time or the place. Frantically you blinked back your tears, reminding yourself repeatedly that Matt had clearly not wanted that woman's advances and that he had openly acknowledged having a significant other. He hadn't done anything wrong. You honestly weren't even upset at him.

But still, that moment had wounded you quite deeply anyway. It made you once more feel like you weren't meant to be with him. 

Trying to focus on your breathing, you attempted to calm it down and even it out. You needed to relax so that you could find your way back to the ballroom and finish out the rest of the night. You’d worry about all of these spiraling feelings of inadequacy later. But as you were inhaling a slow and quivering breath in, you heard the door at the end of the hall open. Before you could even turn around to see who'd joined you, you heard Matt gently calling out your name. Eyes closing, you roughly blew out the breath you'd just taken. You hadn't wanted him to know how upset you'd been over something so ridiculous. Especially not with how far your relationship had come with him over the past few months. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Matt asked.

With your back facing him, you quickly began wiping at your dampened cheeks, forcing the tears back. You knew it was pointless though because you knew with his senses he had already been aware of the fact that you’d been in here crying. Continuing to roughly wipe at your cheeks, you heard the sound of Matt’s footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Yeah, I'm–I'm fine, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep your voice even. 

“You're crying,” he pointed out. “You're not fine.”

Blinking hard a few more times, you tried to quickly regain control over yourself. But the moment you felt Matt's gentle hand on your shoulder, a soft sniffle snuck its way out of you. 

“I know you overheard what just happened,” he told you quietly. “I heard you walking over as it was happening. I know that’s what has you upset and I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

You shook your head before looking back over your shoulder at him. Matt was standing just behind you, his glasses no longer on his face and covering his eyes, probably having removed them and slipped them into his jacket pocket when he’d come to talk to you. There was a worried crease between his brows as his eyes continued to dart around your face, scanning you over. You could practically feel the way he was analyzing your body right now.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Matt,” you assured him. “You don't need to apologize. It's just–”

You broke off on a sigh, your eyes dropping down to your red heels peeking out from beneath your dress. Matt's hand on your shoulder began to gently spin you around to face him before his other hand landed on your opposite shoulder. Both of his hands gave you a firm, comforting squeeze as you continued to avoid his stare.

“It's just what, sweetheart?” he prompted.

You winced, shaking your head. “It's stupid. Really. I got upset and I was hoping to just come out here and calm down because I know how stupid it all is. We've been over this before–I thought I was past this already.”

“Hey,” Matt murmured, both of his thumbs beginning to rub soothing little circles over your bare shoulders, “whatever upset you isn't stupid. You can talk to me, you know that. I want you to talk to me. We do have that pinky promise, after all.”

Shoulders sagging in defeat, you knew he was right and had a point. You both had long since agreed to communicate with each other. This was precisely one of those times where you needed to.

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly released it before your eyes traveled their way up Matt's handsome form in his tuxedo. When your eyes finally landed on his face, you couldn't help but relax at the way he was gazing down at you with so much love and concern reflected in his eyes. The sight only had you feeling further idiotic for having had such a strong reaction to that woman hitting on him.

“It’s really stupid but…I just feel like all night everyone has been staring at me like I don't belong here. Or rather, here with you, specifically,” you confessed awkwardly. “Mainly the women. They've just…openly made faces at me all night long and it's been weighing on me. And then to–to come back from the bathroom just to overhear all of that? For that woman to just touch you like that? Make the comment she did?”

You shook your head, that unpleasant squirming of your heart in your chest returning at the memory. Quickly you tried to blink back the tears, not wanting to cry anymore. Matt's expression only further softened as he listened to you. 

“To hear someone else openly acknowledge that another woman looked good next to you–something people here would probably never say about me–it…hurt,” you whispered. 

Matt was quick to wrap his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into the front of himself as he pulled you in for a hug. Your own arms timidly rose up, encircling his waist under his suit coat as you buried your face against his chest, careful not to smear any makeup onto his white shirt. The cologne he'd put on tonight filled your nose as you breathed in, somehow calming the uneven pattering of your aching heart. He smelled good, like something warm and woodsy. Safe and comfortable. The longer you breathed it in, the more it eased that ache in your chest just a little bit more.

“I wouldn't concern yourself with the opinion of anyone here,” he told you, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. “Everyone here is so superficial and just putting on an act. And if you forgot already, they only invited us here last minute as a slight. Believe me, I've overheard some of the things being said about Nelson, Murdock, and Page when they think we can't hear. It's not you, sweetheart. I promise you that. And you know I love you,” he continued, the soft and even rhythm of his voice calming you more in his embrace. “Not a number far enough from one, right? I don't want anyone here but you and I never will.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “That’s why I feel stupid.”

“Don’t,” he replied. “You had a human reaction to the way you're being treated, sweetheart. That’s normal. It’s okay. I'm just sorry that's how you're being treated because you're here with me.”

One of Matt's hands unwrapped itself from around your shoulders, his fingertips beginning to glide their way down the back of your bare arm as his other continued to hold you to the front of himself. Your eyes closed under his touch, goosebumps rising along the skin his fingers had just brushed over. When his hand reached your wrist, you allowed him to gently unwrap it from around his waist.

“But you know,” he murmured, something about his change in tone catching your attention as his fingers interlocked with yours, “one of these days, there'll be a ring on this hand.”

Your eyes flew open, your entire body tensing against the front of him at what he'd just unexpectedly said. His fingers continued to affectionately toy with the fingers of your left hand as you stood there feeling like you suddenly couldn't breathe, your heart skipping a beat.

“And then I'll be introducing you to everyone as my fiancé at these galas,” he continued, a hint of a smile in his voice, “not my girlfriend.”

Your knees felt weak at his words, your right arm holding onto Matt even tighter, afraid you might actually lose your balance in your heels. It had been awhile since either of you had mentioned marriage, both of you having been so busy lately, but you knew it was something you both wanted. It’d been discussed. But for some reason standing there and hearing him so casually refer to you as being his future fiancé had you wondering if maybe you were closer to that future than you’d even realized. Was it possible he’d already bought a ring? You were too afraid to even hope for that, but the prospect of being engaged to him soon had your insecurities immediately draining straight out of you.

“And eventually,” Matt continued, his chin rising from off the top of your head, his lips lowering beside your ear, “I’ll be introducing you as my wife at these things. Then they’ll all have to call you Mrs. Murdock.”

Sucking in a sharp breath that got stuck in your throat, you found yourself suddenly lightheaded just at the thought of that. A jolt of excitement raced through you as Matt pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then his lips were curling into a smile along your skin. At a loss for words, you stood there with your mouth slightly parted in surprise as you tried to process the fact that he'd just said that.

“You like the sound of that, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed out, not even pausing to think.

Because you did. You liked the sound of that a lot. The idea that Matt really wanted only you so much that he’d make a lifelong commitment to you. That he’d put a ring on your finger as a visible reminder to everyone else that you were his, and someday, you’d get to put one on his finger that showed the world he was yours . Forever.

You liked the thought of that far more than you realized, especially here in this moment and after what had just happened out in that ballroom.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out, his hand which wasn't currently interlocked with yours sliding slowly down your back, “wasn’t quite expecting that reaction when I said that.”

“Wasn’t exactly expecting you to say that,” you whispered back.

His hand continued its slow descent down your spine, a shudder racing up the length of it under his palm. Eventually its trajectory changed, his hand coming to rest along your hip. Holding onto your waist in one hand, his other hand still entwined with yours, Matt began to carefully walk you backwards. As you moved, his nose nuzzled affectionately against your temple while your face remained buried against his chest. You felt your breath coming in sharper, the fingers of your right hand curling around his dress shirt beneath his suit coat as you tried to keep yourself from tripping over your own feet.

“I want to make you mine,” Matt told you, an edge of the possessive Devil in his words. “And I want you to know that you’re mine. To never question it.”

Your back had just barely bumped against the wall before Matt’s hand released yours and instead came to lightly encircle your jaw in his large palm. A soft gasp slipped out of your mouth as his hand gently pushed your head back against the wall, raising it up so that your mouth lined up with his. He leaned in and your eyes snapped shut just before his lips were on yours, somehow soft and full of heat simultaneously. 

You lost your footing at the intensity of the kiss, your left hand flying out to grasp onto Matt’s bicep over his suit coat just before his body pushed you further back against the wall, keeping you upright. His hand continued to hold your jaw firmly in place as he kissed you in a way that he had yet to this entire evening–a way that had your knees trembling. But just as you’d barely had a chance to match that intensity, he abruptly broke away from you, a fire burning in his hazel eyes as he focused his sightless gaze along your cheek. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, your mind still reeling in the moment.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he told you. “And I don’t care who tries to flirt with me. There might be a whole room of other women out there,” he continued, gesturing his head back down the hall in the direction from where he’d come, “but the only one I want is right here. And if you want, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily, his hand releasing your jaw and sliding down to lightly grip your neck, “I would be more than happy to show you how much I want you right now.”

Head still resting against the wall behind you, your eyes grew wide. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I–I’m not sure I follow,” you whispered.

Matt's face hovered a few inches from yours, that unmistakable heat still burning in his eyes as he focused back on you, a small smile on his mouth. You were positive the tips of his fingers were feeling the thrumming of your heart with where they each rested along your neck.

“There’s a room to your right,” he said. “Yes?”

Slowly turning your head, you glanced over your shoulder. There was in fact a door there, one labeled ‘office.’ 

“I don’t hear any cameras inside of it, and I’m guessing it has a locking door,” Matt said. 

Your attention returned to him, your brows jumping up onto your forehead. “Are you suggesting we…?”

“Yes,” he replied, his smile growing into something mischievous on his face, a glint of something flickering in his eyes. “If you want to, of course.”

“But–but Matt,” you whispered in a rush, your cheeks heating as you glanced back to the door at the other end of the hall, “there’s literally hundreds of people back in the ballroom. And security roaming around. We are by no means alone here. We could get caught!”

He shrugged a shoulder, the movement drawing your eyes back to him. You could feel your heart beating faster in your chest at his suggestion, an unexpected excitement growing inside of you at the prospect of having him here at this gala without anyone knowing. The pair of you had never done anything like this before, the closest having been when he’d teased you back at Fogwell’s Gym last year. But you'd been alone at the gym that night–this was different. 

“I can assure you,” he began, “that no one has even been down this hallway except us all night. Trust me, I can tell. If we keep quiet, no one will ever know but us. So it’s up to you, sweetheart.” The corner of his lip curled into a devilish smirk, the sight causing your thighs to press together. “We can certainly head back to the ballroom instead. I would be content just having you at my side for the rest of the night. Or,” he continued, the corner of his lip curling even higher, “I could ease any of your lingering insecurities for the rest of the evening first. Prove that you and you alone are mine.” 

His hand released your neck as he pushed back off the wall, giving you space. Space you found yourself not remotely wanting.

“But the choice is yours,” he assured you. “Because you know I'd never want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mouth opening and closing for a moment, you felt at a loss for words as you tried to decide. There was a part of you that wanted to lead him back down the hallway and just finish out the night. It wasn't like the pair of you couldn't do all of this back at the apartment afterwards, and it would be more than mortifying if the pair of you got caught fucking in an office during this gala. But another part of you was curious. Curious to see what he meant about easing your insecurities–because you knew whatever happened he certainly would. And the thought of fucking him while everyone else was a few rooms over was tempting, especially considering the way both you and Matt had been treated so far this evening by the other guests. It'd be a little secret just between the both of you, and something about that had your blood beginning to rush to your cunt.

Ultimately the image of that woman who'd been running her hand along Matt’s shoulder flashed through your mind again, but this time something else raced through your entire body at the memory of it. Something almost possessive hit you hard. Something territorial. Without further contemplation, you knew exactly what you wanted right now. 

Hands flying out, they latched onto the lapels of Matt's tuxedo before roughly yanking him towards you, immediately crashing your mouth onto his. Matt's hand tightened along your hip almost bruisingly tight in response, something like a snarl vibrating in his throat and rolling into your own mouth. The sound of it had your fingers curling further around his suit coat, your feet beginning to clumsily guide the both of you over towards the office door. After a few steps, your hand released his coat, beginning to feel around the wall for the door handle. You were too caught up in kissing Matt to actually look for it, not wanting to end the moment, but he must've realized what you were doing because he broke away from you a moment later, loosing a breathy laugh as your hand continued to blindly search for the handle. 

“I take that as a yes on doing this,” Matt teased. He released his hold on your hip, grabbing you by the hand instead and shooting you a cheeky smile, one that had the corners of his eyes creasing. “Allow me,” he said.

He pulled you a few more steps down the hall towards the door, reaching a hand out and easily opening it. All the while he continued to smile back at you, his attention never leaving you. Somehow that only made you want him more–especially in that damn tuxedo.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, tugging you along after him. A giggle escaped you as you stumbled into the room behind him, your feet a little unsteady in your heels. You were still unable to believe that you were about to do what you were about to with him while so many people were nearby. But as usual, this was Matt you were with. The very same Matt who always made you feel safe and comfortable.

You had barely entered the room before Matt turned back towards you, quickly closing the door and flipping the lock on the handle. And then he was on you once more, pushing you back against the door without warning as he caged you in between his arms. His mouth was at your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the length of it like you both hadn't just been briefly interrupted. Your head fell back against the door behind you with a soft thump , your eyelids fluttering in pleasure as your hands rose up, grabbing helplessly at his back.

“Only want you,” Matt murmured against your skin between kisses. “Only you.”

He continued trailing his sensual kisses along your throat, his hips pressing you firmly back into the door. Your breath was coming in sharp already, your mind almost entirely forgetting about the gala happening just a few rooms over because of his skilled mouth. When his lips finally landed over your pulse point, you felt his teeth gently bite down on the skin, taking you by surprise and eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure from you. Your nails dug into his suit jacket, your teeth gritting together to keep from making too much noise. 

“ Matt ,” you breathed out.

“ Mine ,” he snarled in response along your neck.

The hand he had splayed wide along the door beside your head dropped down, landing on your thigh through the slit of your dress. He let out a pleased noise as he began to trail kisses past your collarbone, his face lowering to the cleavage the V-cut of your dress created. His hand began to massage the muscle of your thigh, gradually making its way further up your leg and towards your ass as his lips began to suck at a patch of skin along your breast. A dampness was steadily growing between your thighs, your eyes completely closing under his attention as one of your hands slid up and into his hair.

“Thought there was a slit in your dress,” he whispered, face still buried against your chest, the stubble on his chin tickling you with each word. “Was hoping to properly appreciate it tonight.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut short by his teeth placing soft nips along the swell of your left breast. His hot breath cascaded its way down the front of your dress as he did, the feel of it causing your brain to go blank. His large palm was kneading your ass in a way that had a soft moan tumbling out of your lips, one you were powerless to stop. Matt's mouth paused at the noise, hovering just above your chest as you felt his hand dragging its way back down to your thigh. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warned, his warm palm sliding to the inside of your thigh, fingertips brushing against your cunt just over your now damp panties. “Need to keep quiet if you don't want us to get caught.”

“That might prove–” 

You stopped short as Matt's fingers pushed your panties to the side. They soon began sliding back and forth through your damp folds, collecting the slick that had been steadily forming there for the past few minutes as your breath hitched. Hips squirming along the solid door behind you, a surge of pleasure raced through you when the pad of his finger began to delicately circle your clit. Eyes closed, you swore you saw white flash across your closed lids. He always knew exactly how to touch you.

“Difficult,” you finished lamely. 

“Mmm,” he hummed out thoughtfully.

The pad of his finger continued tracing circles over your clit, your cunt starting to desperately ache for his attention as he did. You could feel his erection growing against your leg through his dress pants with the way his hips were still pushing you back into the door. The feel of it almost had you accidentally loosing another moan.

“Or maybe you'd rather they all knew you were in here with me,” Matt continued, his tone suddenly dark and low–something reminiscent of the Devil. “Is that what you want? For all of them out there to know you're in here letting me touch you like this?”

A quiet curse slipped out of your mouth, your back arching against the door as his finger quickened its pace, pressing more firmly against you as he did. Admittedly you wished that woman out there knew exactly what he was doing to you right now after the way she'd been touching him. You wished she knew just how much he wanted your hands on him instead of hers.

“ Yes ,” you whispered, the word sneaking its way out of your lips. 

The truth of your admission surprised even you, your eyes flying open. Matt was hovering over your cleavage, his finger still drawing delicious patterns on your clit. But his face shifted ever so slightly upwards at your response, his focus turning up towards you. There was something almost dark matching the intensity in his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as a growl rumbled in his chest. Your heart instantly accelerated at the look on his face.

“Certainly caught the truth in that,” he assured you, his finger never stopping its movements along you. “So you want me to give you a reason not to doubt that you're mine for the rest of the night? Is that what you want? To stuff you with my cock and fill you with my cum so you know who exactly you belong to?”

“Yes,” you answered.

Once again you’d found yourself stunned at your admission–and how quickly you’d answered. Even Matt seemed to be taken by surprise for a brief second, his head tilting a little to the side. But then ever so slowly his hand slipped out from under your dress, his smirk growing at the faint, pathetic groan you emitted at the loss of contact. 

He straightened up before you, both of his hands landing on the belt at his waist. Your eyes dropped down in the small distance between you, your heart hammering away in your chest as you watched his hands undo the buckle before sliding his zipper down. In a swift movement, he shoved his pants and boxers farther down his thick thighs before tugging his dress shirt out of the way, all the while your eyes were focused on the emergence of his erect cock springing forth. Practically salivating at the sight of it, especially considering the exhilarating situation you both were in, you whined impatiently against the door.

Matt’s eyes flew to your chin at the noise, a smile overtaking the smirk on his lips. In seconds he was pressing you back against the door behind you, one hand firmly grasping your thigh while his other roughly shoved the fabric of your dress out of the way so forcefully that you swore you heard a seam tear. But you didn’t care as he hoisted your leg up onto his hip, the head of his cock bumping against the slick of your core. Your hips eagerly twitched forwards at the contact, already desperate to feel him fill you.

Matt’s forehead lowered to rest against yours, the hand he didn’t have holding your leg in place along his hip beginning to drag his cock back and forth through your arousal. You bit the tip of your tongue more firmly with each teasing pass of him through your folds–partly in anticipation and partly to remind yourself to keep quiet. Even if you couldn’t hear the noise of the gala, there was a small part of you still aware of it continuing not that far away.

But when you felt him finally sink inside of you, you almost forgot your own name. The pair of you released a sigh at almost the exact same moment, as if you’d been waiting far too long for this connection between the pair of you tonight. Though truthfully with how long you’d had to endure chaste kisses, seeing him in that tuxedo while watching him display his intelligence in conversation all night, had felt like a new form of torture. And now having him finally burying himself inside of you felt like the sweet relief you’d been craving.

Matt rolled his hips forward into you, sliding the entirety of himself inside of you as your hands wound their way into his hair, keeping his forehead against yours. His lips brushed against yours so lightly that you almost didn't feel them just before his fingers dug into your thigh where the slit of your dress had slipped out of the way, gripping you tightly in place against him. His other hand landed with a sharp slam on the door near your head, holding himself upright.

“I’ll give you something to remind yourself that you’re mine for the rest of the evening,” his husky voice promised you. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart.”

Your whole body trembled at his words, feeling him drag his cock out from inside of you slowly at first before he sharply thrust himself back inside of you. Clenching your teeth together at the impact, your fingers curled tighter around the strands of his hair, not even worrying about how mussed it would look by the end of this. You had a feeling the both of you would look disheveled at this point no matter what, and a large part of you almost didn’t care anymore.

Gradually Matt began to pick up his pace as he began to fuck you, his hips eventually snapping forward into you so hard that your back and your ass pounded into the door behind you, the resounding bang accentuating each time he pumped into you, the noise louder than the obscene sound of skin on skin. You were struggling to keep your mouth shut, fighting to keep your pleasure quiet as Matt’s hips continued to viciously roll into you over and over again.

Eventually your lone heel on the floor began to slide ever so slightly back and forth along the tile with the intensity of each of his thrusts. One of your hands dropped down, grabbing onto his round and solid bare ass in an attempt to hold onto something. Beneath your palm, you could feel the large muscle repeatedly contracting in your hold with every pump of his cock burying itself inside of you. Eyes becoming half-lidded, your ragged breaths mingled with his sharp grunts in the minimal space that existed between your mouths. His forehead hadn’t left its place against yours, and every so often his mouth would occasionally graze your lips before he took the opportunity to seize your mouth in soft little kisses. The intimacy of the tender action was a perfect contrast to the way he was currently roughly fucking you into the door behind you.

“No one else–will ever have me–like you do,” Matt ground out between each sharp slam of his hips into yours. “You'll be–the only one–I call Mrs. Murdock.”

Your nails dug into the firm muscle of his ass at his words. You once more hadn't expected him to say that, but the pleasure of hearing it again shot straight through you so fast that you swore your whole body had ignited. With his cock filling you so wholly and those words echoing in your mind, you felt a moan building in the back of your throat. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted. “The way your body reacts every time I say that–” 

Matt inhaled a hiss of air, his hips faltering in their rhythm as if he was already struggling not to cum just at your reaction. The fact that he was so turned on at the prospect of you being his wife alone had your eyes snapping shut completely, that moan that had been building in your throat making it halfway out of your mouth before Matt quickly quieted it with his own, swallowing the sound.

You could feel yourself growing closer to your release already, far more turned on by hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Murdock’ as he buried himself inside of you than you could ever imagine. With the way his body was shuddering against yours, you could tell it was having an unexplainable effect on him, too. One that was drawing him fast to his own climax.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

You heard Matt let out a low groan, his hips beginning to sloppily slam into your own as his blunt nails dug into the flesh of your thigh, clamping it tighter to his hip. Your release was building just at his reaction, making you understand just how he was feeling in that moment, too.

“Call me that again,” you breathed out.

His mouth found yours immediately, latching on as he kissed you fiercely but with so much tenderness. As if he was struggling with the intensity of his own feelings at your request. When he broke away from your mouth, he stayed so close that you could feel his lips brush yours as he whispered the name one more time.

Your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, your thighs shaking as another particularly rough thrust of Matt's hips pushed you back into the door. Your cunt tightened around him as he once more filled you, the delicious stretch of him inside you one you wanted to remember for the rest of the night. 

It was the pleasure-filled, deep moan that Matt so carelessly spilled into the room as he abruptly came inside of you that had you about to cum along with him. He continued to pump into you, the warmth of his release filling you as you neared your own climax. But the moment Matt whispered ‘I love you’ in a broken, breathy pant, you completely lost it. 

Gritting your teeth together, you fought back the moan growing deep in your chest as best as you could, though you couldn't completely quiet it as a wave of pleasure raced up the entirety of your body. Your thighs trembled at the intensity of it as Matt's cock gradually began to slow its pace, your own orgasm washing over you in a crashing, dizzying wave that took you by surprise.

Eventually when you'd finally fallen limp against the door behind you, exhausted and spent, his hips entirely stopped their movement. Inevitably Matt's forehead left yours, your eyes opening as he carefully removed himself from inside of you before shifting your panties back in place. The pair of you were both panting hard, attempting to catch your labored breaths. His face was flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, a look of almost smug satisfaction on it.

Matt's hand gently lowered your leg from his hip, returning your foot to the floor as your hands both found their way to his hips, trying to keep your balance. Matt's own hands landed on your shoulders in return, helping to keep you upright as his gaze landed on your cheek.

“Certainly didn't expect tonight to go this way,” he mused. 

“You and me both,” you breathed out, still trying to catch your breath. “I've never exactly done that before.”

When Matt was sure you weren't about to lose your footing, he released his hold on you and took a step back. With an amused huff and a growing smirk, he began to pull his pants back up and to fix his disheveled state of undress.

“Pretty sure that wasn't the first time we've done that , sweetheart,” he teased. “We seem to do that often. And quite well.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you readjusted your dress, noticing he had just slightly torn the seam when he’d yanked it out of the way. Though you didn't think it was too noticeable to continue wearing tonight.

“You know what I mean, Matt,” you told him. 

“I know, I'm only teasing, love,” he assured you.

Your eyes spotted the small, decorative mirror hanging on the wall across the room, just past Matt as he continued adjusting his tuxedo. You bent down carefully, picking up your clutch purse that you'd dropped to the floor the moment Matt had pushed you back into the door, and then you made your way over to it.

“Convenient there's a mirror in here,” you said to Matt as you began inspecting your slightly smudged lipstick. “I can at least attempt to make myself presentable again before we go back out there.”

Using your fingers to wipe away the smeared lipstick as best you could, you heard Matt approaching you from behind. You saw him appear over your shoulder in the mirror a second later, taking in his out of place hair and slightly rumpled shirt. He wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing himself to the back of you as he leaned in towards your ear, your eyes catching sight of a devious smile on his mouth before he spoke.

“Now when we go back out there,” he murmured, his voice once more low and husky like the Devil’s, “I want you to remember this moment anytime anyone looks at you like you don't belong at my side. And if you catch yourself starting to believe them, I want you to do something for me, okay?”

“And what's that?” you asked him slowly.

Matt's nose brushed along the shell of your ear, your body straightening at the touch.

“I want you to focus on the feel of my cum dripping down your thighs,” he ordered you. 

Your hands stopped what they were doing trying to fix your makeup, hovering over your face as your breath caught in your throat. Eyes growing wide at Matt's reflection, you watched as he pulled away from your ear, turning and grinning at you through the mirror. 

“I know I'll certainly be paying attention to it for the rest of the night,” he said, grin growing wider.

[bloodsvcker]

Here are my favorite media with general Christian imagery. Which one resonates with you the most?

Film: the Last Temptation of Christ, dir. Martin Scorsese, 1988.

Film: Carrie, dir. Brian de Palma, 1976.

Film: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, dir. Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, 1975.

Show: Fleabag, created by. Phoebe Waller-Bridge, 2016-2019.

Film: la Passion de Jeanne D'arc, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928.

Show: Hilda Furacão, written by. Glória Perez, 1998.

Band: My Chemical Romance, 2001-2013, 2019-present.

Show: Supernatural, created by. Eric Kripke, 2005-2020.

Show: Good Omens, showrunner. Douglas Mackinnon, 2019-present.

[curiositydooropened]

Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley. 

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?” 

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck. 

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin. 

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass. 

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!” 

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.” 

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage. 

“Yes.” She said. “Me.” 

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her. 

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?” 

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper. 

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?” 

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.” 

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her. 

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides. 

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.” 

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -” 

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?” 

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well. 

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled. 

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned. 

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below. 

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand. 

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips. 

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement. 

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again. 

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses. 

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?” 

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand. 

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?” 

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have. 

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it. 

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets. 

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction. 

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?” 

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side. 

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds. 

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored. 

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.” 

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.” 

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head. 

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?” 

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you. 

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin. 

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.” 

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.” 

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch. 

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?” 

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds. 

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void. 

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her. 

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams. 

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone. 

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them. 

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze. 

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers. 

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again. 

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him. 

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces. 

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on. 

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void. 

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime. 

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium. 

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders. 

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns. 

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip. 

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate. 

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in. 

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head. 

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?” 

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page. 

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.” 

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb. 

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch. 

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.” 

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.” 

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips. 

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie. 

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!” 

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound. 

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?” 

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside. 

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?” 

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust. 

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.” 

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her. 

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?” 

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own. 

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes. 

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house. 

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house. 

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key. 

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!” 

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!” 

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.” 

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin. 

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you. 

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs. 

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called. 

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.” 

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes. 

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming. 

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you. 

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet. 

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies. 

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

 Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek. 

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own. 

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar. 

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home. 

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.” 

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors. 

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air. 

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them. 

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear. 

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline. 

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips. 

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand. 

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions. 

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light. 

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away. 

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?” 

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?” 

“Let me see.” 

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze. 

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name. 

“Should we call the nurse?” 

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?” 

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus. 

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?” 

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you. 

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink. 

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there. 

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips. 

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.” 

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.” 

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you. 

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?” 

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found. 

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine. 

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast. 

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win. 

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm. 

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed. 

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync. 

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted. 

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg. 

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze. 

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car. 

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt. 

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too. 

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him. 

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat. 

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel. 

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen. 

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we make one stop first?” 

“Of course.” 

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview. 

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.” 

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course. 

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours. 

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you. 

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled. 

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh. 

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?” 

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway. 

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.” 

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.” 

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair. 

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat. 

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

[lurkingshan]

Hello hello! Since you watch all kinds of asian dramas, what are your top ones that feature casual intimacy?

Hey anon! I do in fact watch all kinds. :))

I am going to partially cheat on this one and point you to a previous post I wrote in July: The Ride or Die Drama Couples List. This is a list of dramas with couples in established relationships, as well as a bunch of friends to lovers dramas where the couple is basically together the whole time but doesn't realize it yet. Since the Venn diagram of my list for best casual intimacy and this post is basically a circle, I figured it was a good place to start.

That said, I have watched many more dramas since then and there are a few that don't fit that list's bill, so here are some additions in no particular order:

Sing My Crush

Just look at this gif. Im Hantae can't keep his hands off Han Baram regardless of their relationship status, and it's some of the sweetest casual affection I've ever seen depicted on my screen.

Choco Milk Shake

This Korean bl is about a very sad boy's dead pets taking human form to return to him. I know it sounds weird but trust me it is cute as all hell and weirdly touching and chock-a-block with casual intimacy in the form of pets seeking their owner's attention.

A Boss and A Babe

Gun and Cher are one of the best couples in Thai bl this year for casual affection. This show has some wonkiness in the plot but the couple has a really lovely, easy chemistry and a lot of cute moments.

Reply 1988

Are you interested in casual intimacy of the platonic nature alongside your romance moments? Because this show is just full of it, with a tight knit group of neighborhood besties that are all up in each other's space. And once the romance kicks in, you get lots of cute stuff there, too.

The Eighth Sense

These two are all over each other both before and after they get together, with tons of small moments of skinship in every scene. Jae Won in particular really struggles to keep his hands to himself.

King the Land

One of my favorite romances of the year, with so many cute couple moments, both casual and Big Swoony, that I lost count.

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Do you consider touch on the rougher end of the spectrum—say, grabbing your bf by the scruff of his neck or throwing him over your shoulder—casual intimacy? If so, have I got a couple for you.

Taikan Yoho

The relationship dynamics in this Japanese bl are not for everyone, but if you're into something a little confusing and twisted with under-negotiated kink dynamics, you will be handsomely rewarded with more casual intimacy than you know what to do with.

Last Twilight

This one is still airing but I think it already won the casual intimacy Olympics for 2024. There is so much loving touch in this show, and it's also hugely important to the story, as one of our leads is losing his vision and needs the touch to feel grounded.

[get-back-homeward]

The Beatles, Flowers, and Love

A white sport coat and a pink carnation I'm all dressed up for the dance A white sport coat and a pink carnation I'm all alone in romance

Once you told me long ago To the prom with me you'd go Now you've changed your mind it seems Someone else will hold my dreams

—A White Sports Coat (and A Pink Carnation)* (1957)

I send you flowers but you don't care You never seem to see me standing there I often wonder what you're thinking of I hope it's me and love love love

—Hello Little Girl (1957)

Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain Where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers That grow so incredibly high

—Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds (1967)

Find me in my field of grass Mother Nature's son Swaying daisies, sing a lazy song Beneath the sun

—Mother Nature's Son (1968)

Songs that lingered on my lips excite me now And linger on my mind Leave your flowers at my door I'll leave them for the one who waits behind

—Goodbye (1968)

Some call it magic The search for the grail Love is the answer And you know that for sure Love is a flower You got to let it grow

—Mind Games (1970, 1973)

Sweep through the heather like deer in the glen Carry me back to the days I knew then Nights when we sang like a heavenly choir Of the life and the times of the Mull of Kintyre

—Mull of Kintyre (1977)

All through the summer, I have followed you around Bringing a rose for the winter that's coming Now the snow is on the ground... Love awake to the day When we can make our love awake

—Winter Rose/Love Awake (1978)

You want a love to last forever One that will never fade away I want to help you with your problem Stick around, I say Coming up, coming up, yeah Coming up like a flower Coming up, I say

—Coming Up (1979)

If you'll forgive me my little flower princess Never too late unless you can't forgive

Time is on our side Let's not waste another minute 'Cause I love you my little friend I really love you

Give me just one more chance And I'll show you, take up the dance Where we left off

—Forgive Me (My Little Flower Princess)** (1980)

After hours  Late in the bar  By a darkened corner seat  Faded flowers wait in the jar  Till the evening is complete 

—Take It Away (1981)

She sprinkles flowers in the dirt That's when a thrill becomes a hurt I know I'll never see her face She walks away from my resting place

That day is done, that day is done You know where I've gone I won't be coming back That day is done

—That Day Is Done (1988)

[artificialsilkgirl]

what are some of your fav movies? do u have any recommendations?

I answered a similar question sometime last year so I'll try to avoid repeat recommendations (will bold favorites) but my so-called top four (horrible Letterboxd term) are The Piano Teacher, American Psycho, Resurrection of the Little Match Girl, & Velvet Goldmine. Would add Mulholland Drive and Videodrome maybe hehe. I've only watched two movies this year so far but enjoyed both: Cure (1997) & Night and Day (2008) and I really don't care about anything released in the last ten years.

I mostly like movies about weird sex freaks. I'm a fan of Satô's gay pinku—I've seen The Fetist (1998) and Muscle (1989) but want to get to the others (Bondage Ecstasy, Hunters' Sense of Touch, & Temptation of the Mask) soon. I like what I've seen of Hal Hartley, I've watched Surviving Desire (1992), Amateur (1994), & Flirt (1995). Of course I love my Jang Sunwoo... aforementioned Little Match Girl (2002), Lies (1999), Timeless Bottomless Bad Movie (1997), The Age of Success (1988), & To You, from Me (1994) ..... Wat else.. Sleepwalk (1986), Metropolitan (1990), 301/302 (1995), Romance (1999)... enjoy 80s/90s erotic thrillers (De Palma's are good...Body Double & Dressed to Kill)

Hopefully will watch enough this month to warrant another monthly film rec post