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blackshadowswriter · 8 months ago

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BESTIE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, YOU ARE SO INSANE I LOVE YOU

Ok i'm ngl, I've been horrendously absent from here, but then I pop back in bc I need some of your fics to get me through the day, and then I see you've posted this?? fucking?? masterpiece???

The way I gasped at the summary and then gasped even louder at the warnings and then gasped again at the word count 😭😭 you spoil us too much with your writing girl and i'll always eat it up

I LOVE the premise to this so much, like I was already obsessed with your other vampire!reader x Matt series, but then I saw this one was VAMPIRE!MATT and I was like sign me tf plss 😫🙏 the idea of an interview is so creative and I could already tell there was gonna be so much sexy tensy where tf did that shorthand come from, i mean sexual tension ofcc

You were a curious child who turned into an even more curious adult. At times even a bitter one because she couldn’t get the answers she yearned for and had to do it herself. So, of course, the We Don’t Talk About Vampires rule came across as rather absurd, learning about it back when you were merely a teen.

Reader is such a mood with this one, like they said "don't talk about it" and she said "fuck you, I'm gonna" and I absolutely love that for her

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges.

POETRYYYY, also I love how Matt takes the effort to write pretty and with a whole ass fountain pen, like mans is down BAD trynna impress her and I get it tbh

You don’t know me, but I know you.

DRAMATIC ASS MATTHEW BUT ALSO THAT'S KINDA HOT, WHY'D THAT GIVE ME CHILLS

also i might be chronically online too much, but this just made me hear that one "you dont know me but i know you" sound in my head 😭

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man.

The 242 sounded so fucking dry LMAO like I can hear Matt saying it with a heavy sigh, poor baby is too done with this life 😭

As you are about to approach the entrance, your fingertips start to burn. A gasp escapes past your lips. Staring down, the cubical piece of paper goes up in flames. You are mere feet from the door, nowhere near close to an open source of fire, and the card starts to burn like a wildfire.

AGAIN DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON MATTHEW WHY, also the way this would have scared the shit outta me so badly, reader is sm stronger than i could ever be 😖✊

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged.

LMAO BABY YOU JUST WAITTTT tbh matty would be hot anyways so idc id fuck him any age OK IM SORRY

Their venom rivals the intoxicating feeling of heroin, you’ve heard, and it heightens your senses to the point all you can feel is the one who bit you. Research suggests it’s a million times stronger than an orgasm, for both the vampire and the human being.

THE WAY MY FACE TRANSFORMED INTO THE SMIRKY EMOJI BECAUSE I KNEW EXACTLYYY WHERE THIS IS GOING, BITY SEX LETS GOOOO

He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head.

MATTHEW IN THE BLACK SUIT WITH THE WHITE DRESS SHIRT, I CAN'T ✋😩😫 NOT TO MENTION THE CHEST HAIR, BESTIE YOU'RE KILLING ME WITH THIS

thank you sm for your service with the white shirt and the chest hair, you are my saviorrrrr

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap. He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

DIRTY MIND DIRTY MIND, MATTHEW YOU NAUGHTY CATHOLIC tbf he has reason to be smug, like i wouldnt say that either, now 'get in' is a different story-ok ill stop being horny now

That summer, Elektra drained him. He didn’t know what she was. She fooled him. He was obsessed with her. Her dark eyes he couldn’t see lured her in, and it was the venom in her blood that became his downfall after she dug her teeth into him.

I LOVE how you worked Elektra in like that, like it's an AU but it follows the plot SO WELL and your description of her actually has me IN LOVE, ITS GORGEOUS

I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.

THE LINEEE HE SAID IT, HE SAID THE LINE YESS, peak writing at its finest, bestie 😌👏

“I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified."

OH MY GOD, THE RELIGIOUS IMAGERY, I LOVE IT? BESTIE YOU'RE ACTUALLY A FUCKING POET HOLY SHIT. "im judas and i retired the day I was crucified" ASDLKFJA THIS IS THE BEST SHIT I'VE EVER READ, IDK WHY THIS ONE LINE MAKES ME FERAL BUT IT'S SO GOOD WHAT THE FUCK

You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns.

THE HALO HE BELIEVES ARE HORNS, GOOD LORD AGAIN??? MORE BEAUTIFUL RELIGIOUS IMAGERY??? HOW ARE YOU COMING UP WITH THIS BESTIE, IM IN ACTUAL LOVE RN

Matt towers over you in all of his intimidating glory. His eyes spark red, but you hold his unfocused gaze. He has such beautiful eyes. This pull between you is far from human; it’s unhealthy, and it is exactly where he wanted to get you. You’re trapped, pinned underneath him like a deer caught in headlights.

help i cant breath now MATT PINING HER AGAINST THE WALL AND JUST TOWERING OVER HER IS SO HOT AHHH

and his eyes, pls they're so pretty 😩 READER IS LIVING MY DREAM RIGHT NOWWW

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says. You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.” If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat.

ADLKFJSD THEY ARE SUCH SOULMATES, THE PARALLEL OF THOSE LINES IM GONNA JUMP OFF A BRIDGE, THEY'RE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER

This shit simultaneously has me tearing up and feral clawing at my screen because INVISBLE STRING I LOVE THAT, THEY ARE SO SWEET THIS IS WHAT I CALL LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT and also ETERNAL SACRIFICE? HELP THEY ARE SO DEVOTED I CANT

He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction.

🎶this life is sweeter than fiction🎶 I LOVE THE REFERENCES, I thought "invisible string" was just a coincidence but thissss

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks. “Thinking about you,” you murmur. “Me?” “You.” “Why?” “Because I want to be your salvation.”

THEM 😭😩🤧🥰 literally they are such goals fr, like idc he's a vampire that makes him hotter I WANT THIS TOO, I LOVE HOW SWEET THEY ARE, THE SALVATION PART IS SO BEAUTIFULLLL

That night, you fell in love with the Devil, but he also fell in love with you, his angel in the form of a reckless journalist, and the only blood he ever wants to taste again until the end of his miserable, cursed days.

And now im crying, "his angel" THIS IS SO FUCKING SWEET AND AGAIN SO POETICALLY BEAUTIFUL OMFGGG "the only blood he ever wants to taste" THIS IS PEAK DEVOTION RIGHT HERE

bestie you put crack in this fic and didn't disclose it and that should be illegal because holy shittt you have me HOOKED on this, like I am DESPERATE for more of them, I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU ARE SUCH AN AMAZING WRITERRRR

Interview With The Vampire | Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

-> Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), alternative universe, blood play, marking, scent kink, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, biting, vampirism, angst, religious imagery & symbolism, Catholic guilt, mentions of violence, allusions to suicidal thoughts, lots of plot, age gap

Word Count: 12.2k (this is a beast)

Other Characters: Vampire!Elektra (mentioned), Ben Urich (mentioned)

A/n: I finally got this one edited. This is a beast, y’all! I drew inspiration from Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, but particularly the 2022 AMC series (I fell in love with it then and there), but it’s not based on it, so I just played around with the idea and this came out. It’s a lot, but it wasn’t enough for a full-blown series, so you’re getting a big ass One Shot instead. I used my usual Smut tag list, but since this is slightly Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heed the warnings and proceed with care! Don't read it if you don't want to. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Read Me On AO3!

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps.

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again.

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil.

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature.

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving.

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

Two years out of your Master’s degree at Columbia University, you have become one of those hard-working adults who fall into bed later than they should, and you lie awake at night, wondering how much longer you have to exist before you can live.

You interned at the Bulletin; you ran the true crime and mystery column for over a year before the newspaper shut down. A billionaire from downtown Manhattan bought it to start his own magazine, and you were the only employee he didn’t fire. Instead of relying on your top-tier education and experience though, he has banned you to the lifestyle and beauty column. He’s a beast if you have ever seen one.

On a Monday in June then, after the sun has risen and is now falling again, you find an envelope on your desk. You glide your fingers over the fancy paper. The letters are written in handwriting that resembles the old letters from the 18th century you had the pleasure of using as research material for your Bachelor’s thesis.

Your heart skips a beat. Could it be…

It is no secret that vampires exist.

Over two decades ago, scientists published papers on the existence of blood-sucking creatures after years of valuable research, and now governments around the world have set out to burn the inhuman species out before they can cause any more damage. Vampirism though is older than humanity itself and unless law enforcement has evidence of homicide, vampires have the right to exist amongst humans.

They are excellent at hiding their true nature, that much is true. The lore that has been passed down since the beginning of time is only partly true. They know how to adapt and rise from the ashes like elegant phoenixes. The misconceptions surrounding their existence stem from fiction, horror, and fear, but they persist.

And a rule has been established in society ever since the truth was revealed: don’t talk about vampires!

Don’t talk about them unless it’s in a fictional context. Don’t put your research out there. Don’t fraternize with them. Don’t risk becoming prey. Don’t be fascinated by them, and God forbid, don’t you dare write articles about them for the public records. If you want to know about vampires, you have to dig, and you have to do so quietly or society will deem you crazy and a freak.

The worst thing to be is not a flying android or a super soldier with a shield; the worst thing you can be, in this day and age, is a vampire.

You started researching, and you found out more than you thought you would—more than you thought you could. You wanted to cover the issue in the Bulletin back when you still worked there, but since humans were raised to fear the very mention of vampires in the real world, no longer romanticizing the concept but rather running from it, the truth shall remain hidden. Again, that seemed absurd, but you had to accept it to get ahead.

You kept researching to the point you convinced yourself you could be one of them if you tried. You felt like you understood them, but nothing could ever fully answer all of your questions to the point it felt truthful. Honest. Real.

Growing up, everyone told you dead things aren’t supposed to walk. They aren’t supposed to breathe and exist among the living. They are cruel, and vampires are killers that leave trails of bodies the government is hiding from us. Greediness exceeds common sense. The human mind tends to get sick and twisted, and those who don’t fit in hardly ever stand a chance.

Hell’s Kitchen is particularly quiet on the issue. Rumor has it that the vigilante chasing criminals at night and leaving the worst of them dry at the shore of the Hudson while, at the same time, surrendering those he deems worthy of rehabilitation to the authorities, is one of those vampires.

They call him Daredevil; the savior of innocents and the downfall of the vile. Only a handful of people know who he is. The truth is caught in a spider web of lies, unable to come out unless someone were to tell his story for the world to hear.

That Monday in June when you open the mysterious envelope on your desk, everything changes.

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges.

You don’t know me, but I know you.

It’s strange to read your name out of the mouth of a stranger.

I must admit, Miss, I’m a big fan of your writing. And I’m not talking about the lifestyle and beauty column Mr. Doherty of the ‘Silver Lining’ has confined you to.

No, I am a big fan of the work you used to do for the New York Bulletin. I remember your name headlining many articles on crime here in Hell’s Kitchen—a column my late friend Ben Urich used to call his home.

It’s a shame that the paper was shut down. I tried to prevent it, but the disappearance of half of humanity and Wilson Fisk’s irreparable damage to the city’s foundation tied my hands.

The token female journalist reporting on unsolicited beauty advice and lifestyle choices no one is going to follow in the days of social media and fake marketing. It must be frustrating, right? Not having a story to tell. Not getting recognized for your impeccable talent. The Bulletin gave you a platform, but Mr. Doherty and his goons took that away from you.

What I’m asking myself is, are you satisfied? You were probably imagining a different future for yourself. A woman of your caliber must want to be more than a mere object used to make a bottomless magazine look better on the market.

Excuse my overstepping. I read one of your essays on the magical and the mythic—lore versus reality—the other day, and it inspired me. My life has been taking quite a few turns lately, so I required some new… let’s call it insight.

You don’t know me, but I am one of those creatures you are fascinated by. I’m the kind of creature people have been telling you not to write about because the weak minds of the public would not receive it well. The Catholics, the church, the fragile and fearful human beings that can’t imagine anything in fiction being real and want to remain the superior species—trust me, I know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. To be abandoned. To be underestimated. Not quite like you, I admit, but I have a few years of experience in and with this world to show for myself.

I imagine you’re tired of your position. I imagine you’re dissatisfied with human idiocy. You crave answers to your questions. Questions you have been asking yourself ever since college failed to answer them. My kind is being censored—partly for good reason—but that doesn’t sit right with you, does it? To live life in a monotone line with no clear way out of this boring rhythm you have had to fall into?

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man.

You are going to find a card with my address attached to this letter. I can assure you, sweetheart, we both want the same thing. I will wash your hands if you wash mine. Think about it, and come find me when you have made your decision. Preferably after the sun has set.

Yours sincerely,

The paper crumbles in your hands, but only at the corners. Your eyes are glued to the lost drops of ink, the blue blood of an old fountain pen caving under too much pressure.

He chose his words carefully. Every paragraph circles around your head. You breathe in, and it suddenly feels as though the whiff of the unknown is an inhalable drug, twisting your brain inside out.

The pull threatens to submerge you in a stormy ocean. You’re flailing your arms around helplessly, but there is nothing for you to hold onto. All buoys have drifted into oblivion, leaving a sea of utter emptiness behind, and in the midst of it, there you are, drowning.

In a moment of clarity, you fold the letter back down on the desk. It lands with a thud, and you look around frantically, checking if anyone is watching you. They aren’t.

M. That’s all he’s giving you. And the fact he is over two hundred years old proves the rumors to be true. He’s standing by it, but only to you. He wants to reveal himself to you, show you his true face for a story, but he’s a vampire.

You’re alone. You can wash his hands, but is just showing up enough for him? You don’t even know him.

You’re in trouble. This time though, you didn’t even do anything. You did your job, and he caught an interest in you. How does that work?

Your heart skips another beat. It should not, but it does. The danger is exciting. It shouldn't be exciting. You hate what your body is doing, but how can you make it stop? You can’t. You can’t do anything but take it.

This stranger has got you in a chokehold, but in his hands, you might as well surrender to your certain demise. You don’t consider vampires inherently evil, but there is a reason people warn you not to walk alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s dangerous, no matter his nature, and he is not supposed to lure you in the way he does.

But you’re a curious kitten, and he is offering you the holy grail of answers to questions you have been grappling with for years. He hit the nail right on the head. And it doesn’t even scare you how well he knows you.

This is a gold mine. Realistically speaking, telling a vampire’s story could make or break your career as a journalist. If you do it for the magazine, you’re done before you can even bring your words to print, but if you do it individually and you do it well, people will certainly eat it up. The question is just, are you going to play your entire life safe, conforming to your boss’s view of you until you get the freedom you crave, or are you going to take the risk and fly?

The answer is as clear as day, but it takes you a moment to process. It’s as though someone is in your head, steering you in the direction of whoever this M is. Daredevil. This vampire who wants you to interview him, and for what? That’s still an open question you don’t have the answer to. But you do know what to do.

You scramble for your laptop, your notepad, and the letter in the envelope. The clock strikes four. You have another two hours on the clock, but you can’t be bothered to stay.

Upon hearing the sound of your shoes hurriedly scraping against the linoleum floors, one of your colleagues turns in her chair. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be,” you tell her as you brush past her.

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I forgot I had an appointment.”

“What about Mr. Doherty?”

You stop on your way out, looking back over your shoulder. “If everything works out,” you say, glancing through the window to his office at the other end of the hall, “He’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the week.”

She gasps softly. “You’re quitting?” her voice is barely above a whisper.

Almost sinisterly, you chuckle. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“But—”

“Tell your daughter Happy Birthday from me. I gotta go.”

Your steps echo for minutes still, but you are long gone with the wind.

Silver linings are considered an advantage that comes from an unpleasant situation. The name has proven to be entirely unfit for the magazine that replaced a big piece of Hell’s Kitchen’s history. The Bulletin had cultural value as much as it was laden with decades of the city’s stories told to the average person.

Wilson Fisk was the dynamite that sent New York alight. The Bulletin’s destruction was mere collateral damage in the fight to get the city back on track. You have had so many reasons to leave presented to you, yet you never took them. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here, making bad decisions on what started as just another Monday in June.

The fact is though, you didn’t leave, and you are here now. Facts are what matter. They count. Your hypothetical past, present, and future have no place in this reality because you can’t travel back or forward in time. Vampires may exist, and the Avengers time-traveled to save the world, but things aren’t quite as easy once you look at the bigger picture. You are not a superhero, you’re just a journalist chasing the kind of story that will finally make her voice be heard.

You know that Ben Urich, at least, would be proud of you.

His address weighs heavy on the small card you pulled out of the envelope earlier that evening. You passed it on to the cab driver, and he began to navigate the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The luxury condominiums in this part of the city can be counted on one hand. You know exactly when you’re there.

The sun has once again set over New York City. You’re wide awake, not quite sure though if you’re ready to face what you are walking blindly into. Even your driver refuses to take you past a certain point, and that is how you know that you’re not dreaming. This is real, and it’s supposed to be terrifying.

How come you’re not scared then?

You slip twenty dollars to the cab driver, then climb out of the backseat. The salty air from the Hudson River a few blocks down wafts around your sensitive nose. In the distance, you can hear waves crashing into the docks as the wind picks up in speed. The boats must be moving wildly by now, swaying from side to side and possibly even making the fish in the depths of the water seasick. You would be if you were them.

With every step, you grow closer to your target. On second thought, maybe you should have brought more than just a pathetic bottle of pepper spray and your precious laptop. You could have brought your grandfather’s cassette recorder, at least that would leave a mark if you hit someone over the head with it.

Do vampires get concussions? That is another question you can add to the seemingly endless list in your mind. It’s a confusing place as of late, and the weird sense that someone is playing with the controls won’t leave you alone. Either you are overthinking, or you are worse off than you originally thought.

The apartment complex the card directs you to stretches high above you. You look up, seeing not a single light on. That’s odd, you think, but then again, you are meeting with the city’s most notorious man. If he is who everyone says he is, and if the rumors are even true, that is.

You pull back, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The ashes fall to the ground, but before they can hit the asphalt, they vanish.

“What the–” before you can finish, the doors before you swing open toward the inside. The lights turn on. Someone even has called the elevator for you.

Another step forward, and a voice stops you. “Fourth floor, down the hallway, first door to your right,” the voice says through the speaker. Only then do you notice the lack of a doorbell.

Everything in you is screaming for you to run, but you are rooted in the spot. He dragged you here with a mere letter, and you were more than ready to jump. Desperation was the only thing that drove you here. Your brain seems incapable of rational thought.

What if that is what he wanted all along? To get you complicit by playing on what you so desperately need, which is a story and a way out of this boring everyday life that is threatening to slowly kill you.

He’s like a siren, luring you into his deadly trap, but even knowing all of this, you still can’t find it in yourself to run.

The second you enter the building, the door shuts behind you, and your only way out is officially locked. You made the decision; you have dug your own grave, possibly quite literally, and now you have to lie in it. It’s better to die chasing a good story than dying at a desk in an office that doesn’t respect you.

You are a disgrace, you can hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. He always warned you not to be too reckless or your bad decisions will eventually catch up with you. He always taught you not to trust strangers, and to stay the hell away from those who disgrace God, but you have never cared much about being a good girl.

Your thoughts are as morbid as your obsession with the walking undead. It is time you embrace what people are already saying about you.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. It goes up and up and up until it finally stops on the fourth floor. The walls smell like nothing but a faint hint of bleach. It’s clean, parquette not carpet, and the walls are kept in a shade resembling a mixture between crimson and maroon, and it is blending into a sort of marble.

The metal doors slide open. Again, you hesitate. A sweet whisper echoes in your ear, dragging you toward the edge. You breach the border between the elevator and the hallway that waits behind it. The voice is distant, and it doesn’t sound human—it reminds you of a siren’s song, calling for you. He is calling for you, and a fog settles over your mind. You’re not in control anymore, he is.

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged. Vampires stop aging when they’re turned. Their mind doesn’t. You’ve read the research plenty. They are wise beings, more intelligent than human beings could ever fathom. That makes them dangerous.

Part of you has always wanted to try it. Part of you wants to know what it feels like to be sucked dry. You want to know what it feels like to be carried into a new dimension by someone who knows how to play the human body like a fucking piano, eliciting the sweetest melody through your very essence and the symphony of your moans.

This M—Daredevil—is inherently dangerous. He’s as mysterious as they come; a man in a mask lurking in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen every night, turning the fight for justice into his hunting ground.

It’s as though he curled his fingers, and you followed.

You walk the dark hallway down to the door on the right. Paintings litter the walls. Masterpieces, blotches of white, red, and color. You recognize the red marble as a decorative theme on the wallpaper. Tracing your fingers over it, the rough drywall scratches at your skin.

You reach out a shaky hand toward the golden knob. Before you can turn it though, the door already flings open. It must be witchcraft.

Red appears to be his favorite color. At least judging from the hallway, that is true. When you step into the room with a pounding heart and blood pooling in your cheeks though, the inside of the room is a lot more… human. You wouldn’t have guessed it from the gloominess surrounding you on your way there.

A leather couch and armchairs stand in the middle, facing toward the window front. Colored windows, as you have gathered from the rumors. They are see-through now though, showing the city skyline and the moon up high. The chandelier on the ceiling is the only piece of furniture you would consider old. Browns meet hues of blue and dark green, a forest at midnight, and you suck in a sharp breath. The apartment is beautiful.

You look to your left and see a bookshelf stretching the length of the wall. You can’t help but run your hand over the backs. You would have expected original editions from the 18th or 19th century, but when your fingers trace over the bindings, you are met with the bulging of Braille underneath the elegant golden writing of the titles. None of them seem to have collected dust. It surprises you to only find a mere handful of classics that haven’t been transcribed in Braille and a realization you did not expect starts to crawl its way forward.

“I stole that one from a library in Paris.”

Your racing heart stops beating. The book you’ve been holding falls to the ground, its worn-out leather cracking further around the spine. The thud is deafening. You gasp, turning around. Your shoulders fly up as the tension ripples through every last muscle in your bone. Your bones ache just from how stiff you’re standing, but you can’t move.

The man before you moves as quietly as a mouse. You didn’t hear him coming. The moonlight reflects off his dark brown hair, making it appear almost ginger. He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head. His jawline is irresistibly sharp, leading up to a pair of plump lips he is wrapping around the brim of a crystal glass filled with rum.

Your heart remains frozen. Not a single drop of blood pumps through your veins, yet your cheeks burn brighter than a bonfire on a pitch-black night.

But his flawless appearance is not what catches your attention the most. Looking up into his eyes, wanting to know whether they are as red as those set into the devil’s mask, you find nothing but your terrified reflection staring back at you. It’s as blurry as the picture of your face in a still ocean’s water, your wide eyes staring back at yourself.

The red glasses are all you can see. Round with a black rim. Silver would have looked better on him, or maybe even gold. The black reminds you of an endless pit, a sinister embrace of vampire stereotypes, but you can’t look away from the maroon that won’t allow you even a glimpse into his eyes. They are shielding him from the world, and his eyes from curious, stupid humans like you.

He nods toward the ground. “You gonna pick that up?” he asks. His voice reminds you of rumbling gravel.

He looks like a man. He talks like a man. If you didn’t know better, you would say he is human. There seems to be blood in his cheeks and air in his lungs.

You have to pull yourself together. Clearing your throat, you bend down and pick the book back up.

“Thank you,” he utters your name. “It’s been a while since I’ve received visitors that don’t work for me.”

You put the book back on the shelf. Your lips are sewn shut; you can’t find the words. Every time you open your mouth like a fish on dry land, you close it again, and it is embarrassing to be standing in front of him with your guard down.

“Welcome to my home,” he says. You wish you could see his eyes to know if he’s mocking you. “Do you want a drink, or do you need another minute to process?”

He is mocking you. His tone is gentle, as is his voice, but he smirks like a smug motherfucker, and your anger boils to a tipping point. The candle is about to burn out.

“I–” you stammer. Internally, you curse yourself for being such a fool.

“Another minute it is then.”

You don’t need a minute though. “You’re blind,” you blurt out.

The beautiful—deadly—stranger nods. “Yeah.“

“How?”

“Accident when I was a kid.”

“But you’re…” you leave the missing part of that sentence hanging in the air like a noose.

“Say it,” he murmurs. You want to say it sounds like a growl, but you’re not sure. He isn’t asserting dominance or trying to force you into submission by scaring you away, but he is toying with you regardless.

You take a deep breath. The word, the truth, numbers your tongue and your lips with its weight. “A vampire,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, matching his.

His smirk broadens. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment, then releases it as it darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m a blind vampire, yes,” he answers. “We’re rare, but we do exist.”

Blind vampires. In all of your years of fascination, that has never crossed your mind. You used to believe that they had healing abilities that far exceeded your own. You were wrong. He lost his eyesight before he got turned into a vampire. He lived as a blind human being and didn’t regain his most crucial sense when he died.

He came back to life, but he died. It is surreal to stand across from him. He’s not just letters on a piece of paper, he is very much real. And he’s blind.

“Oh, my God,” you curse.

That elicits a soft chuckle from him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says.

“I was considering not to.”

He sees right through you with those empty glasses. “That’s a lie.”

“How would you know?” you counter.

“I can hear your heartbeat. The blood pumping in your veins…” His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You take a step back. It’s an instinct. “Your pulse picks up when you lie, or when you’re nervous, or both,” he states. “When you first saw me, your heart skipped a beat. It did again when you lied to me.”

Your eyes trail down to his thick thighs perfectly fitted in his tailored trousers. His thick digits pat the rhythm with his fingers on the fabric. Thud-thudthudthud-thud. You place a hand on your chest. He wasn’t wrong; your heart is racing.

His smirk turns into a smile, but only briefly again. It’s a glimpse of humanity he doesn’t want you to see. “I like that sound,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell good? Sweet, sour, and a little salty. Natural. You don’t use a lot of artificial perfume, but you like cherry chapstick.”

You swallow, taking a whiff of your arm. Besides your deodorant masking the scent of your nervous sweat, you smell nothing. How good must his nose be? His hearing? His sense of taste?

“Right now, sweat is dripping down your back, and your muscles are tense enough to strain against your bones every time you breathe. Your heart just skipped a beat again. You find it weird,” he muses. “I can’t turn it off, but I get it must be strange for you.”

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap.

He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“And I never thought you would ask for an audience with me, but here we are.”

“Here you are.”

You want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. He looks so smug, standing there with his drink, wearing a suit too fancy for his own home. He’s fully in his element. It’s scary how alluring he is, too. You don’t want to think that way, but as soon as your eyes gaze upon him again, your chest contracts, and you forget how to breathe.

He’s a wolf, and you’re a lonely little sheep that doesn’t know any better. That lonely little sheep just wants to be a part of something bigger, even if that means surrendering herself to the big bad wolf. He wants a taste of her, and the sheep would give him that in a heartbeat if he just asked.

You blink. There is a voice in your head, and it isn’t your own. Far from it. You don’t want to be associated with this stranger. She thinks she knows you. She thinks she knows what you want—the sheep in the eyes of her natural enemy. This voice is the most irrational you could be, and you need to stop letting her win.

And yet you—not just the voice of the lonely sheep you appear to be—would follow this man anywhere, even to hell if he asked you to.

Your eyes drill knives into his skull, but they are also full of curiosity. Can he hear your thoughts? Your heart beats in your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. If you bit your lip, you would bleed, and he would probably fall into a frenzy. Still, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. What if he can hear your thoughts—hear how fucking needy you are? You’re pathetic. What he must think of you, standing across from him, smaller than human life itself.

You want to read him, but he is far from an open book. He’s not Braille you can run your fingers over, and even if he was, you don’t know how to read it. He’s an enigma. His face is set in stone; an iron mask you can’t penetrate.

His chest heaves with another chuckle. He sets the crystal glass down on the coffee table, taking a step forward. “No, I can’t read your mind,” he says.

You flinch. “What?”

“Your breathing pattern. The way you look at me. I can sense that you’re thinking about something.” He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just… Most humans ask me if I can read their minds, you know. I can’t. Some vampires can, but my senses are the only heightened ability I have.” This time, when he chuckles, a hint of bitterness dances in his voice.

“At least you’re not in my head then,” you say.

“No.”

“Good.”

A pregnant pause follows. You clutch your bag to your chest, your fingers digging into the frame of your hidden laptop.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks, pointing to his empty glass.

You wave him off. That’s the last thing on your mind. “No, thank you.”

Sometimes at night, you fantasize about diving into the abyss of darkness. It looks and sounds a terrifying lot like him. You want to know him. You need to know him. When it comes to him and this—whatever this is—the lines between want and need are blurring into an unidentifiable mess. It’s an ocean of emotions with no land in sight. A total eclipse of the heart, if you will. You’re losing your mind.

“What you can do–” You straighten your shoulder, hoping it will add height to your beaten confidence. “You can tell me your name. Sir,” you say.

He nods. “I suppose it would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Matthew. My name’s Matthew.” The softness of his features as his lips move to the rhythm of his words takes you back anew. His eyebrows raise slightly, and you catch a glimpse of a pair of beautiful, unfocused hazel eyes that steal your breath away.

Matthew. It is a name that easily rolls off the tongue. It suits him.

You repeat his name aloud. “That’s an odd name for a 200-something-year-old man,” you point out.

Matthew scoffs. “My parents were both Catholic.”

“I suppose you’re not?”

You hit a sore spot. His head dips, fingers running over his nails and tongue tracing his teeth. “Not anymore,” he says.

God died for him a long time ago, and all churches burned down.

Your grip on your bag loosens. “Then why Daredevil?” you ask.

His lips part. “I, uh, have the Bulletin to thank for that one. After centuries of existing in this world, and being despised for no matter what I do, I’ve decided to embrace it. I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.”

Matt grabs his glass, turning away from you. He doesn’t use a cane to navigate from the couch to the mini bar on the other end of the room. You carefully follow his movements. One of his hands remains at his side, snapping his fingers as he navigates the familiar terrain of his home.

He uncaps a half-empty bottle of Whiskey to pour himself another glass.

“You know, Matthew,” you prompt, daring to step forward an inch, “as big as your reputation is in this part of the city, Silver Lining is not the kind of magazine that would cover your story.”

“You still came,” he says.

“I could lose my job if anyone knew I came here.”

“And yet you’re here and not where you should be.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t risk losing your job if it wasn’t important to you, would you?”

You stammer, “I–” He’s got you. You’re a fish with a hook in her mouth.

“If Silver Lining Magazine won’t cover my story, why are you here?” Matt turns back to you, leaning back against the shiny Mahagoni of his minibar. It offers a beautiful contrast to his strong physique and the slight paleness of his skin. “Could it be because you’re fascinated by the mythic?” he asks, teasing. “By werewolves and witches and vampires?”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I won’t confirm or deny. My boss wouldn’t let me write a vampire vigilante exposé even if I begged him to.”

“And that’s why Mr. Doherty doesn’t deserve you.” Your body visibly recoils when he pushes forward, moving just an inch toward you. “Your curiosity is a virtue,” he purrs. The moonlight sets your reflection in his glasses alight.

“Is that why you lured me here?” you ask him. “Because my curiosity is a virtue and you consider yourself better than the people in my life?”

“I didn’t lure you here, and I think you know that. That’s not what this is.” The distance between you starts to shrink, backing you into a corner. “I believe you came here because the thought of interviewing a vampire and sharing your findings with the world on your account excites you,” he says. “You want to be heard. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and you want to make people happy.”

The only way for you to come out of this with your pride and dignity still intact is to put up walls before the already existent labyrinth of walls keeping your heart guarded and your soul safe. “Again,” you ask, “why me?”

“Why not you? As I stated in my letter, I’m a fan of your work.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, about that. How did you write that if you’re blind?”

“I didn’t, my secretary did.”

“Of course.” Of course, he has a secretary. “I… I just don’t get it,” you say. “You’ve been hiding for so long–”

Matt cuts you off with an urgency you didn’t expect, “Things have changed. Circumstances…” he trails off.

“Wouldn’t it be a suicide mission?”

His answer is silence. You let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want me to interview you, you have to be honest with me.”

“I’m not on the record yet.”

“Right. Maybe you can answer this though—off the record, of course—how can you be certain I didn’t call the cops or the FBI before I came here?”

His eyes crinkle. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he says.

He’s amused. You’re amusing him.

“Don’t call me that,” you growl.

He’s spreading you open, holding up a mirror for you to look into. It’s your miserable self in all its glory, and he knows you better than you know yourself.

You ignore the sharp pain in your left ribcage as you pull the arrow out of your heart. “Unless someone holds up a sign that they are pro-vampirism, how would you even know I’d listen to you and not just refer you to the Journal of Psychiatry?”

“Are you telling me you don’t believe in vampires?” Matt quips.

“That’s not… Answer my question!”

The sound of your heartbeat must sound almost like the rapid firing of a machine gun, that’s how fast your pulse is racing. Your veins threaten to burst with the excess blood. It’s a heat like no other. You’re a witch at the stake, and Matt is holding the torch to your gasoline-doused body.

He clears his throat. Your face falls at the words that tumble out of his parted lips, and the rapid firing turns into a deafening silence and a monotone line on a heart monitor.

“After what I’ve learned from reading Dr. Rice’s research on the phenomena of vampirism, I can confidently say this species is no different than an animal like the great white shark or the Homo sapiens sapiens—our kind,” he recites. “Vampires are a medium of fiction and propaganda to induce fear, but they are also a widely misunderstood species that is being silenced rather than heard. Our species, the human species, likes to consider themselves superior, even when we’re in a position of being someone’s natural food source. Dr. Rice’s research is based on a comprehensible set of facts, and isn’t that what we have been relying on ever since the beginning? Our psychology makes it possible for us to change the narrative in our favor, and more often than not, we ignore the very facts deemed by humans as an intellectual importance to spread the message of an entirely different agenda. Dr. Rice’s research only proves that egotism and humans themselves will be humankind's certain downfall.”

“My investigative journalism essay,” you breathe out.

“Published by Columbia University.”

Your heart restarts with a rush of adrenaline. “How… how do you know all of this?”

“I may be blind,” Matt says, “but I know how to read between the lines.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The alcohol in his drink seems to have little effect on him. “I know you have questions, and I’m willing to answer them if you promise to publish a detailed report somewhere other than Silver Lining Magazine.”

You look down at your bag, then back at him. “Ben Urich could have told your story in a way that would’ve made people listen,” you murmur. “I don’t have an impressive career like him.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “but you could have easily written ‘Attack on NYC’. Ben was a good man, an even better journalist, but he could not have written your college essay. And he could never have been you.”

Your name rolls off his tongue—not a pretentious nickname that makes you want to vomit but your name, and it flicks a switch within you.

You glance around the spacious living, pulling your laptop out of its confines, and you bridge the distance between you, finally. You notice he smells of sandalwood cologne and scentless soap. “Okay,” you cave. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Session 1.

The spacebar clicks underneath the tip of your index finger. The white of your screen fills with a series of red sequences as the microphone takes in every little sound around you. Except for the two of you and the fading footsteps of one of Matthew’s assistants though, the world has fallen silent in the dead of the night. He’s sitting across from you, legs crossed, head tilted; your life is about to change.

“So, Mister Murdock,” you begin, “tell me. How long have you been dead?”

His mouth opens in a wide grin. “242 years,” he answers.

“And what happened the year you died?”

“Well, it was 1782. I was a good few years out of law school. I was a good lawyer, but I wasn’t successful. That year, I met a beautiful woman at a banquet. I wasn’t rich—trust me, I was beyond penniless—but she had been adopted into a wealthy family, and that made her one of the richest women in the room. Everyone wanted her, but when I sensed her across the hall, she only had eyes for me. And she was the first woman to not see me just because I was blind.” He chuckles sadly. “I thought she was the woman of my dreams, the love of my life, but a few weeks later, after letting her into my life, I realized that she didn’t look at me that night because she was interested. She was hunting me. El— Miss Elektra Natchios…”

The year 1782 becomes apparent before your inner eye. As he tells you about the night he met her, you can see the dark-haired beauty making her way across the ballroom. Red lips and a gown to die for. Her dark eyes were full of mischief, but the passion in them could have knocked a grown man off of his feet. And that is just what she did to poor Matthew.

“I was going to marry her,” he tells you.

He went to church regularly. His knees were bloody from praying, his senses already heightened before he died. God’s soldier, that is how he puts it. He was told that the accident that left him blind happened for a reason, and he had to fight a war that went beyond the country’s fight for independence.

Matt tried to beg his priest for forgiveness, but he didn’t even make it past the marble stairs before the doors locked. He knelt in a pool of blood—both his and that of the first human he ever sucked dry to survive as a newborn vampire—offering an eternal sacrifice to Catholicism, but God abandoned him on his doorstep.

The church walls would have been set on fire if he had touched them from the inside.

You look up from your notepad to find him now standing at the window. He’s not looking out, of course, but he seems so deep in thought, the memories that aren’t your own but his start to dissipate, and you’re brought back to the here and now.

Matt poured his heart out to you. You expected answers, but not this kind, and certainly not of this magnitude. You see him in an entirely different light. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and human. He has endured trauma that killed him, but he couldn’t die because the woman he loved made him immortal. It’s a bigger curse than growing up with the belief that an accident made you God’s soldier.

He lost everything. For centuries, he has had to live with that. It’s killing you, feeling his pain, the pure agony that radiates off him.

Your voice is quiet when you ask him, “What was it like?” You don’t have to say it out loud for him to know what you are referencing.

Matt chuckles, the sound a mere breath in the atmosphere. “Like she took my soul from my body, setting fire to my belief system and already heightened senses,” he says.

You swallow. “That sounds… overstimulating.”

“It was. Is. My heart stopped, but when that happened, something else awoke inside me. The hunger… the hunger was the worst part. It’s insatiable. One hour passes, and you feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”

“Like you’ve been possessed by a demon?”

“Like I am the demon.”

“But you’re not.” You should stop the recording. You’re not on track; you’re incorporating your feelings into Matt’s story, but you can’t help it. The words tumble out of your mouth without a second thought, a train that cannot be stopped.

He raises his eyebrows, you can see it in his reflection in the windows. “Are you religious?” he asks.

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Are you?”

The veins on the back of his hands bulge as he balls them to fists at his sides. Your throat is a desert, and your heartbeat resembles a storm that burns right through it, sending the sand flying in all directions of the horizon.

You adjust in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He takes a whiff. He’s smelling you, and that doesn’t help the speed of your pulse to calm down.

Tapping your pen on your notepad, you watch the red sequences fill the white space of the recording program. It moves with the sound of your voice when you finally dare to answer. “It’s a complicated question because there is a difference between believing in God and believing in the church,” you say.

“Do you believe in God then?” Matt asks. It’s as though he’s trying not to seethe at the mere mention of someone he used to worship. You make a note of that.

“There is so much bad in this world. So much cruelty. I can’t…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to believe in a God that would let the things humans do to each other happen. If God existed—if he was as merciful as Christians like to claim, he wouldn’t let this happen. And I’m so sick and tired of people using their faith, and their beliefs in God and the church as justification to be disrespectful. I don’t understand it. How can anyone? Why is someone who has to drink blood to stay alive—someone who didn’t even choose this life—worth less and the devil’s breed when humans do worse things to each other? Why would God allow us to start wars that kill innocent people? Children? It’s just not fair that we treat ourselves and others as though we are already in hell, and we’re just supposed to accept that God doesn’t care—” You stop yourself, the tears burning behind your eyes.

Matt turns back around. You can’t look away. “When I was still human,” he murmurs, “I used to believe everything that happened to me was God’s will. The accident, God’s will. Me going blind, God’s will. I went to confession, prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I tried convincing myself that every scream I heard from down the block, every person who lost their life or their innocence was my responsibility. God made me this way for a reason, right?” The scoff is as bitter as the liquor in his glass. “I fell apart, you know. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand what was happening to me,” he tells you.

You hold your breath. The glasses slip from his eyes as he takes them off with shaky fingers. You are met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. Emotions dance a heated tango in a tornado. If you look closer, the green specks bring life to his eyes. It’s human nature in the purest sense of the word.

Your reflection stands in his irises, his unmoving pupils, and the tears glisten in his eyes. They’re as red as blood, watered-down crimson essence. You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but that would be crossing a very big line that you can’t bring yourself up to touch.

“I studied law because I thought it would change something,” he continues. You listen. It’s the only thing you can do—listen. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing I ever did felt like it was enough. I lost my father. Jack. I didn’t know my mother until it was too late. Maggie. I had no one. No money, no prospects, just me and those voices in my head, telling me I was supposed to be God’s soldier.”

“You’re not,” you cut in.

He shakes his head. “I prayed; I crawled up the stairs of the church, and I spent hours repenting for my sins. I bled myself dry for Him. I sacrificed myself. I sacrificed my youth, my heart, and my soul, and I got nothing back. I begged for help until my voice was sore, but nothing… God, nothing was ever good enough. Until Elektra came around,” he says.

“She changed everything for you. It makes sense. She turned you into a vampire, but she also loved you.”

“She did love me, in her own twisted way.”

“It’s what you deserved,” you say.

He isn’t yours, but the pang you feel in your chest is treacherous. Your heart cracks like a porcelain vase, jealousy creeping in like a parasite of toxic waste.

In response, Matt only chuckles bitterly. “She made me believe again, then took my soul and crushed it in her hand.” The correction makes your shoulders slump. “Instead of feeling like my world ended though, I felt at peace when she sucked the blood out of my veins and fed me her venom,” he says. “It’s sick, I know. I was aware I died that night, that she turned me into a devil who could only survive if he drank the blood of others. The Catholic in me struggled to accept it, but I had no choice but to embrace what she made me.”

“And where is she now?” you ask.

“Gone.” The light in his eyes has fully disappeared now. “I stayed with her for a while until she died in my arms. She showed me what love is, and she showed me heartbreak. She made me hungry for blood, awakening the devil I’ve been trying to tame. She taught me how to feed, how to hunt, and how to chase. But she also cursed me,” he says. “I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified.”

You have run out of questions to ask. Too overwhelming is the sight of his walls crumbling down, this stranger you now know better than any living being seems to. You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns. The world broke him. His faith in God broke him. It crushed him, and he lost everything. How broken he must be.

“Not such a pretty story when I say it out loud, huh?” He scoffs.

The spacebar clicks again. The recording comes to a sudden halt. One hour and fifty-eight minutes, the first session of your interview with the vampire. You need to put a halt to it now because what you are about to say or do as you reach your hand out to brush his cold, dead skin is not something that should be found on a record. And you won’t ever tell.

Matt pulls away when your warm fingertips brush his. You’re standing across from him now, so close he can smell, hear, and feel all of you at once.

Your touch is the holy water that burns his skin, but the fire sustains him and shoots straight to his core the same way the blood rushes to yours.

“It’s not a pretty story, no,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but it did tell me what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“That you’re not evil. You’re not the Devil. You’re misunderstood. You’ve been beaten; you’ve been abandoned, hurt, and broken. That doesn’t make you a monster. Trying to make this city a better place does not make you a monster.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done…”

“I know the rumors suggest that you were the one who fought Wilson Fisk and got this city back where it needed to be. You’ve saved countless women from the worst of fates. You are the reason the innocent people of Hell’s Kitchen feel safe. By picking up that mask, you became a hero, not a villain, and that is the story I want to tell.”

In lightspeed, he has moved you from the window to the other end of the room. Your back hits the wall.

Exhaling, your breath strokes his cheeks. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you. Every particle in the air, he inhales. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Oh, what you wouldn’t do to suck that tongue into your mouth.

Your pheromones play his head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionette. He growls. “Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?”

The moonlight catches his sparkling white teeth. This time though, you come face to face with the sharp edges of his previously concealed fangs. Your jaw drops open. He’s ethereal.

“I could snap your neck—” Matt places his hand on your neck, “I could make that heart stop beating, take the air from your lungs. I could eat you…” He traces the vein in your throat from your jaw to your collarbone. “I could bite you and suck your blood until you’re empty. I could kill you, sweetheart. My kind is your natural enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”

You shudder. His nose brushes the sensitive skin below your ear. He’s so close you can smell him. On inhale, and his scent consumes your senses. He is all you can feel now. You reach out to hold onto his arms, his muscles tensing under your teeth. He’s big and strong, and those hands have a mind of their own as they begin to wander but never where you need him most.

You shouldn’t be here, yet you came. He asked you to him, and you complied. Is this your fate now? Chasing after your big bad wolf like the helpless sheep that you are?

Your walls clench around an agonizing emptiness, your swollen clit brushing against your soaked underwear. Whatever he is doing to you, it’s the cruelest form of torture.

A strangled noise breaks out of the back of his throat, rumbling in his chest. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you,” he breathes.

“Do it,” you beg. “Taste me.”

He utters your name again. “Stop.”

“Please.”

Your tone shatters him. When he kisses you, finally, fireworks explode in the universe around you. All the stars seem to finally align. Your heart opens, and it sucks him right into you. Your soul yearns for him. He’s so close yet so far away.

The moon stands between you, but you cross even that ocean as you push against him, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He takes like heaven and hell; he’s the apple Eve bit into and cursed her for all eternity. But he’s also the snake, the one who compelled you to take this journey of bad decisions and jump right off the cliff’s edge. You melt into him like a broken candle.

He pulls away. Those fangs are alluring, as sharp as a knife’s tip. You want to know what it would feel like gracing your skin, digging into your as he thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. The thought alone sends your mind into a spiral.

Your lips are swollen, but he has yet to draw blood. Matt looks as though he wouldn’t dare, his eyes darting around in a darkened conflict he feels might cost him more than your dignity. You are begging for it, as is your body, but he’s holding himself back. He’s the one who tied himself to an invisible pillar, keeping his hands locked behind his back. But that is not the Matt you want.

You lean your head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. All control has slipped from your fingers. It’s in his hands now—you are. He cups your head gently. A mere few inches lie between your fountain and his lips.

You press a kiss to his calloused palm—a desperate and needy kiss, tracing your tongue over the lines that tell his life’s story in a way no interview can retell—and it is then he is forever done for. He’s doomed, and you are the second woman to pull him under the pits of hell.

Saliva drips from his fangs. You hold your breath. He hisses, a weak admission of surrender; the words die miserably on your tongue when his lips close around your pulse point with all his might, and his teeth drive home.

You moan aloud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him deeper as he sucks the dark red essence out of your vein. The sensation is more than you bargained for. It’s a drug that wrecks your system. The synapses in your brain backfire with all their might, and what follows the initial explosion of pleasure shooting white hot through your being is complete and utter silence as this God of a man feeds on you.

The invisible string between you glows a bright crimson. It slings around you, tying you together like the roots of a tree. It’s an eternal sacrifice. You are giving your all to him, the very core of your existence that is now flowing into his mouth. You swear you can hear his thoughts mingle with yours. Yes, more, please. You taste so good. Your knees buckle, but you remain standing strong. He makes sure you don’t fall. Don’t slip away from me. I need you.

A tear rolls down your cheek. You could sob. It feels so good—too good to be true. In that moment, you become one. There is no telling where one begins and the other ends. The coil in your stomach tightens, and the only pain you feel is the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. He’s taking everything as you give him everything, but it is not enough. It has never been enough.

When your body struggles to catch up with the lack of blood, he pulls away. His fangs drag out of your neck agonizingly slowly. You whimper at the sudden loss.

Matt catches you as you stumble into his arms. “You okay?” He cradles your face, brushing the hair out of your face. Your blood stains his lips. Blinking up at him, the force of your metaphysical connection slaps you awake.

You cease to exist in all solar systems but his.

He pokes the tip of his index finger with the sharp edge of one tooth, sliding it over the two holes that are pulsating with the work of your heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t have—” he begins.

“No,” you say. “You did exactly what you should have.”

“I couldn’t stop.”

“But you did.” You wipe the blood from his mouth. “And I felt you. I only felt you.”

The living room passes by you. Before you know it, your back lands on something much softer than a concrete wall. He’s not a monster, that one, but he surely is an animal.

You taste your blood on Matt’s luscious lips as he devours your tongue. It tastes of copper and a little bitter, but that is what makes him moan. That sound is the last thing you could ever grow tired of.

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says.

You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.”

If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat.

He leans you back. He strips you bare. He kisses down your body like you are a fucking masterpiece for him to explore. That is how he sees you.

Your head falls back. The kisses wander from your hips to the inside of your thighs. Every kiss brings his breath closer to your center. Matt pulls them apart. He opens you up to him. Your scent clouds his senses, and he groans, but he doesn’t touch.

His fangs graze your skin. “Mine,” he growls.

You gasp. He bites into the sensitive flesh. Hard, passionately. Your legs wrap around his head, trapping him there. He sucks, and he sucks, and he drinks, and the wetness pools out of your cunt in an obscene amount. This is foreplay to him. It drives you toward the edge leading to an abyss you are afraid you might never be able to crawl back out of. There is no bottom, it is just a pit, and he’s pushing you closer and closer, and—

Your back arches, but he pulls away before the coil can snap into a million butterflies. He pries your legs away from his head, spreading them further on the mattress, as far apart as they will go.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner have been served on a silver platter. He breathes in. The scent of your soaked pussy sticks to the hairs in his nose. It isn’t enough. He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction. You’re everything and more. He wants to taste that part of you more than anything, suck up the slick that is soaking the sheets—and you didn’t even think that was possible—but he waits because he needs to savor it. He doesn’t want it to be over too soon. neither for him nor for you.

The blood is still dripping from his tongue and his fangs, and the raw inside of your thigh. He runs his finger through it. The sting runs from the wound to your folds, then back down. Still, he doesn’t touch. He plays with the blood, sucking on his fingers until they’re clean, and then he dives back in for a taste. He doesn’t bite, he kisses and sucks, but he doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t hurt you.

You’re his saving grace; he has to worship you. Pain only has a place in pleasure.

“Matthew,” you moan.

He chuckles, kissing where his fangs left deep indentations. “No one will ever touch you again,” he purrs. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You try to protest, but the words die on your tongue when he leans in, capturing your clit with his hungry mouth. The wound on your thigh closes. The blood from his lips mixes with your juices, and you cry out at the intensity of it all.

He eats you with the ferocity of a man starved for weeks. He eats your pussy like he ate your blood, savoring every drop but still feasting for the taste to spread out in his mouth like wildfire. Sour, sweet, and copper. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth. His tongue drags through your folds, up and down, and then the tip slides inside, tasting your walls. He grows bolder as your moans accelerate.

Matt cradles your thighs. He forces your hips back down to the mattress, stronger than the average human man. You have to endure his beard scratching and burning, and the pace he has set.

The orgasm creeps up on you. Before you know it, he has plunged his tongue into you, and your body convulses around him. You scream into a pillow as you come.

You are each other’s forbidden fruit. No prayer in the world could keep you apart.

Faintly, you can hear him say, “Good girl.” Your legs quiver. He pulls away, then comes right back like a boomerang.

He’s warm now. He was cold before, but when he kisses you this time, he’s warm. He’s hot. You run your hands over his bare chest, the scars that lie under the dark strands of hair. You tug at it, and he moans. You can tell he is a little insecure, but by pressing your lips to one of the cuts on his shoulder, he relaxes.

What he must have endured, what he must have lived through before he died and was resurrected in the same breath, just without a beating heart—you don’t want to think about it or you will break, but you can still feel him through the crimson tie that holds you together, and you know that he has suffered enough for more than two lifetimes. You wish you could take it all away from him. You wish you could have saved him before it was too late, loved him more than the woman who turned him, but turning back time is an impossibility. You are both acutely aware of that.

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks.

“Thinking about you,” you murmur.

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be your salvation.”

You. His salvation. He kisses you, softly this time. He pours gratitude into his lips and bleeds them out in poetry as they slide into your mouth, and you swallow every last drop.

If someone had told you a week ago where you would see yourself on that particular Monday, you would have laughed at them. And if someone had told you a week ago that you would be making love to the devil, you would have called them crazy. But it’s happening.

He thrusts into you without a warning. His thick cock fills you like nothing and no one ever has before. Your cunt has been molded to fit him, you’re sure. You take him in, and you moan at the stretch. It’s a pain so delicious you could fall apart right then and there just from the feel of him inside you.

Every thrust drags the tip of his cock along your sweet spot. Every added sensation drives you closer to your death.

Your body tingles. He explores your face with his lips rather than his fingers, moving to your neck again. You cling to him, oh-so-desperate for him. He likes you like that, and you like him like that.

“You’re fucking with my head,” he tells you. “Offering your pussy to a vampire. Letting me drink your blood. Begging me to fuck you. You’re in my head, baby. Can’t get you out of my system. Fuck.”

You are his downfall, his salvation, but he is all of those things to you as well—all of those things and more. If he could read your mind, you would tell him that. Words can’t do justice to how you feel. Not right now, maybe not ever.

“Bite me again,” you beg.

His thrusts falter. He searches your body for any sign of regret. His fangs come out, and he buries them deep in your jugular vein. The floodgates open wide. Your walls clench around his cock, your clit pulsates, and the wave crashes into you.

You come as he devours your neck and your blood. You transcend into another dimension, far away from everything and everyone but never him. Never Matthew.

The sensation of you wraps around him like a weighted blanket. His balls tighten, your blood unfolding its taste on his tongue. You are all over him, inside of him, everywhere at once. He falls head-first, dragging you down with him.

He comes with a shout that is only muffled through his teeth buried in your flesh, his cum spurting into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your eyes roll back. You’re flying and falling all at once.

Oh, how good it feels to be consumed by him. To be fucked and sucked dry. You would have never expected this to come out of your week, let alone your life, but now that it has happened, you are floating on cloud nine.

Dizziness threatens to take over, but before you can pass out, he forces himself away, allowing your heart to catch up with the lack of blood in your system. He collapses on top of you. His cock softens, but he stays inside. You need him there. You want him there. And that is the only place he wants to rest tonight.

He heals the wounds on your neck. “You have a mark,” Matt rasps, tracing your skin with his finger.

You choke out, “Yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses you there. Once, twice, even a third time. “Mine,” he says.

You’re his. He’s yours. It doesn’t get any better than this.

The minutes tick away on the obnoxious clock on the wall. Matt pulls out eventually, wrapping you up in a blanket. He coaxes you to drink, but you’re barely lucid. Only when he begins to stroke your hair you start coming back to yourself. You thought you might regret it, but as you look at him, his almost guilty eyes staring back at you, all you can do is reach out for him.

“Session two tomorrow?” you ask.

He chuckles and retorts, “Have I not scared you away?” There is some truth to it though.

He’s covered in your blood. It sticks to his lips, his hands, and his chest. It’s sickeningly intimate, in a way.

You shake your head in response. “You could not possibly.”

He listens to your heartbeat. You’re as honest as they come.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Session two tomorrow then.”

Matt Murdock (Smut) Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @theradioactivespidergwen @cheshirecat484 @1988-fiend @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-girl-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife

#OKAY im telling the absolute truth when I tell you I read this 21 minutes after you posted bestie #I swear to god #i literally saw it and devoured the whole thing #legit copied sections out that made me scream #because i wanted to paste them in the reblog and scream again #but then my dumbass got distracted and ran around doing life shit and i forgot about this for like a week #anywayss im sorry it took me so long but i finished screaming out all my feelings now #ilysm for the dose of dopamine this gave my brain #the best writer i've ever met right here fr 😌🥰🖤#BRB I NEED TO GO SEE WHAT OTHER FICS I MISSED FROM MY FAVORITE WRITER #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x reader

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thephantomsdream · 22 days ago

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"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.

Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.

After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.

At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.

"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.

Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.

"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.

"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.

Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.

You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.

Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.

A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.

In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."

A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.

"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.

Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.

"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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threeacttragedy · 10 days ago

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Entry 6 – The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad

I will preface this entry with an acknowledgement to my father. He is the most intelligent, quick-witted, and level-headed person I know. He’s also a bit of a bitch and tends to be blatantly honest. Sometimes that honesty hurts but it’s also nice to know he’s the one person in this world who won’t feed me a line of bullshit. He is also the best friend we all need.

On October 16, my father called me – like he does almost every day – to chat about, like usual, absolutely nothing. But, on this day, I was quite distracted (because the Time article about Nicola had just come out), which he called me out on almost immediately. Our conversation went something along the lines of:

Dad: “I can tell you’re not paying attention to me.”

Me: “Oh, I’m just reading an article that came out today. Actually, can I ask you a question about it?”

Dad: “Sure.”

Me: “I just want to read something to you, and I want you to tell me what you think this person is saying.”

Dad: “Okay.”

I then proceeded to read him verbatim the snippet from the Times article where Nicola talks about her relationship with Luke.

Me: “What do you think she is saying?”

Dad: “That this person is her best friend, and she thinks very highly of them.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Dad: “Why?”

Well, he opened the door so I gave him the backstory. I explained who Nicola and Luke were. I explained Bridgerton. I explained their chemistry during the World Tour. During this 15-or-so-minute conversation, my father took to renaming Nicola “Ireland” and Luke “Thang,” because that’s how he remembers things. Then I brought up the Claddagh ring.

Dad: “Wait. Stop – STOP! – STOP!! I said STOP TALKING! Why didn’t you lead off with this ring? I change my answer. She’s saying she’s in love with this guy!”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “Whatever you read earlier – I change my answer. She’s not saying they’re best friends. She’s saying she’s in love with him.”

Me: “Are you being legit?”

Dad: “Absolutely! Now, go back to the beginning because Ireland and Thang are a thing.”

Welcome aboard the USS Lukola, Daddy.

Recently, this conversation with my father got me thinking about how naïve I have been in believing all Lukolas were aware of the significance of Nicola’s Claddagh. I mean, surely, most of us know the term and meaning of “ring truther,” right?

Maybe not.

I’ve always chucked the Jakolas and A-holes up to be Conscientiously Stupid about the ring – disregarding it because it didn’t fit their narrative. But, shit, maybe they just don’t understand the Holy Grail of the Lukola fandom. So, I figured today, I’d dedicate my entry to explaining the ring to those who have no fucking clue what we mean when we say, “we’ll die on that ring!”

If you don’t want a history lesson or my opinion on the significance of the ring, you can move along and wait for my next post. Otherwise, happy reading. Actually, it’s a rather dull read – but informative. You may just need some caffeine to keep your focus up.

GENERAL HISTORY:

The Claddagh originates from Galway – yes, Nicola’s hometown in Ireland – and has been around for over 400 years. The ring typically shows two hands holding a heart which wears a crown, with the hands symbolizing friendship, the heart signifying love, and the crown representing loyalty.

The way a person wears their Claddagh traditionally signifies their relationship status.

On the RIGHT hand, with the HEART FACING OUTWARD away from your body (and towards your fingertips) means you are single, i.e, your heart is available for love.

On the RIGHT hand, with the HEART FACING INWARD towards your body (and towards the back of your hand), suggests you are in a committed relationship, i.e., your heart is taken.

On the LEFT hand, with the HEART FACING OUTWARD away from your body (and towards your fingertips) means you are engaged.

On the LEFT hand, with the HEART FACING INWARD towards your body (and towards the back of your hand), suggests you are married.

This is not gospel so please do not finish reading this post and start running around in circles, jumping up and down, exclaiming Nicola is married.

NICOLA’S CLADDAGH:

In June, Chupi announced it had designed and created a Claddagh for Nicola and noted “Nicola reached out to Chupi recently and requested a bespoke Claddagh Ring to celebrate the third season of Bridgerton.” Nicola’s ring was custom-made and differs from virtually all other Claddagh rings in that the hands of the ring also display rings of their own.

After creating the ring for Nicola, Chupi continued to sell it through its website, noting that the heart-shaped diamond in the ring was “[h]eld in a pair of hands that honor friendship and strength, with the left hand wearing a North Star signet ring.” In its original description, and for four months following this initial announcement, Chupi never explained the meaning of the ring on the right hand holding the diamond. We will speculate on that in a moment. Further, Chupi explained that the three diamonds in the crown “represent the traditional emblem of loyalty and also symbolize the past, present & future, along with a nod to the fact this is the 3rd season of Bridgerton.” There’s that Bridgerton reference again.

Now, let’s break down the hands holding the heart-shaped diamond, starting with the left hand.

The left hand is wearing a signet ring. This one is easy to explain because Chupi described the ring the left hand is wearing for us. It is the North Star signet ring, which Chupi sells through its website as its “North Star Diamond Original Signet Ring.” Chupi explained that the ring represented “True North.” What is “true north?” Besides its literal meaning, the phrase “true north” represents your “internal compass or your personal calling” and “your authentic self.”

The right hand is wearing a ring on its middle finger. This ring has always been a bit of a conundrum. As mentioned above, Chupi never explained this ring in its original description. In fact, it remained silent on its significance until November 1. And, even after it “explained away” the middle finger ring in an Instagram story (which disappeared after 24 hours), Chupi never updated its website to confirm its meaning. Why? Well, you’ll find that most “ring truthers” believe it’s because this middle finger ring represents Luke. Luke often wears a ring on his middle right finger. In fact, in his People spread for Sexiest Man Alive released November 14, he’s seen wearing a ring on his right-hand middle finger. You can also find him wearing a ring on his right-hand middle finger throughout the Bridgerton Season 3 World Tour.

But, let’s pretend for a moment that the rings on the two hands holding the diamond heart have no significance whatsoever. That does not negate the fact the ring was made as a nod to Bridgerton Season 3. Yes, the season that both Nicola and Luke repeatedly described during interviews throughout the World Tour as their “shared experience.”

To round out this little “history lesson,” and just so I am completely up front, on November 1, 2024, Chupi reshared to its IG stories a story shared by Ashley McDonnell explaining that the right-hand middle finger ring on the Chupi-branded Claddagh represented “power” (basically, women’s empowerment). As of that date, Chupi had also removed all mentions of Bridgerton from its Claddagh ring descriptions and left only a reference to the rings being “inspired by” Nicola. However, the Claddagh could still be found under Chupi’s “Engagement” ring section and the articles titled, “Designing a Chupi Claddagh Ring for Nicola Coughlan” and “What Way to Wear a Claddagh Ring” still, to this day, reside under its “News” section. These articles still reference the ring’s ties to the third season of Bridgerton.

A BUNCH OF POINTS I’M TRYING TO MAKE:

Point 1: Nicola had the ring commissioned herself, per Chupi. We can surmise she understands the meaning of the ring based on her Irish (and Galway) heritage; thus, we can also deduce she knows the meaning behind how it is worn.

Point 2: The ring is important to Nicola. I’m not even going to use disclaiming phrases like “may be” or “seems to be;” I’m just flat out stating the “ring IS important” to her. She has been seen wearing it a lot in her personal time. In fact, on September 20, she was photographed wearing the Claddagh during the Gucci afterparty, which means she took off the “workday” jewelry she had been wearing earlier in the day to put the Claddagh back on her finger. She has not been shy about flashing it in public. From her Chupi articles to her Tatcha stories to wearing it in public (at concerts, walking about).

Point 3: Based on comments made by Chupi on June 25 in its article titled, “Designing a Chupi Claddagh Ring for Nicola Coughlan,” it took four weeks “from a sketch to sparkling reality” to make the ring. This means, at the latest, it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024. However, some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches uploaded by Chupi indicate it was as early as April 26 (don’t even side eye me; I didn’t pull that shit). Based on this information, the ring was likely commissioned during and/or between the World Tour stops in Australia and Italy.

Point 4: Nicola wore the ring publicly as early as June 6 during the Dublin premiere. At that time, she wore it on her right-hand middle finger with the heart facing inwards. The way she wore the ring was also evidenced the following day in Galway by way of pictures in Chupi’s article titled, “What Way to Wear a Claddagh Ring.”

Point 5: Nicola flashed that glittering baby in her June 15 Tatcha IG post (I’m convinced that post holds so many secrets) and continued to wear it throughout the summer months (on her right-hand middle finger) as evidenced by pictures of her at the Taylor Swift Eras tour and in her August 1 Tatcha IG post. And, let’s round out the summer with her displaying the ring in her September 17 Tatcha IG stories, on September 20 during the Gucci afterparty, and in Alex Babsky’s September 25 IG post about Nicola being “in London today.”

Point 6: On October 1, Nicola had seemingly switched her diamond Claddagh from her right hand to her left-hand middle finger as exhibited in her Choose Love IG story. This switch was further indicated (but not confirmed because she conveniently put her caption over it) in her October 5 airplane IG story (deduced from the small gold band switching to her right hand) and in pap pictures of her published on October 8. On October 11, when she posted her Olaplex IG story, it appeared the ring was on her left-hand ring finger. We can also barely see the ring in the October 21 “Polin” picture; however, it cannot be determined if it is on her left-hand middle or ring finger. We haven’t seen her “out in the wild” since so the current status of her ring is not known, but we can probably safely assume she’s still wearing it, with the heart facing in.

Point 7: I believe everyone needs to make their own decision as to whether the right hand of the Claddagh – the one wearing the middle finger ring – represents Luke. Personally, I believe it does, but it is perfectly fine if you disagree. It could very well be a "power move." I’ve always believed the left hand of the Claddagh – the one wearing the North Star signet ring – represented “true north,” or Nicola’s internal compass to choose her own path. But, please do not let my opinion cloud your own.

Point 8: Regardless of your opinion about the hands holding the Claddagh’s heart-shaped diamond, the ring was acknowledged to represent Bridgerton Season 3 and that has Luke all over it.

Point 9: From Day 1, Nicola has worn the Claddagh with the heart facing inwards, meaning her heart is taken. To the best of my knowledge, this has never changed.

MY THOUGHTS:

First and foremost, Nicola has told the world her heart is taken.

Based on the above, why would Nicola wear that ring for anyone but Luke?

My father’s response: “She wouldn’t.”

Why? Because it would be fucking weird if she did.

Let’s play pretend for a moment.

You’re dating Nicola (and, NO, you can’t be Luke in this scenario). You’ve watched Nicola’s Bridgerton press tour for the past, say, six months. You’ve watched her flirt with Luke. You’re fully aware Lukolas ship her with Luke. In fact, you’re aware several of her castmates and crew ship her with Luke. You’re aware that, by the end of the World Tour, interviewers were getting bold enough to ask Nicola and Luke about their “friendship” because they, too, were intrigued by their chemistry. You’re also aware that, “People want [her] to marry Luke.” And, you’re fully aware that Nicola had that Claddagh ring made to, at a minimum, remind her of Bridgerton Season 3, the season she shared with Luke.

Would you be okay with her wearing THAT ring to signify the state of YOUR relationship with her?

If you are, get the fuck off my page.

Now, riddle me this, Batman –

Why was this ring made during the World Tour? And, more importantly, why was it worn during the World Tour?

Why did Luke and Nicola take a special trip to Galway? And (purely speculation here), why did the meeting with Nicola’s mum seem so emotional?

Why did the ring switch hands?

Why, Batman, why?

#lukola #nicola coughlan #luke newton #my opinion #my thoughts #speculation only #ring truthers unite #why batman why?

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velvetydream · 10 months ago

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꒰ :🥀 [ Second chances ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Lucifer didn't think he would ever have the chance at love again, but then he met you and got to know you after the destruction of the Hotel.

Pairing : Lucifer x Reader

Word count : 2239 Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Warnings ➵ Spoilers for EP 8!!

a/n : I love him sm, he deserves the world, a big hug and a smooch to the cheek

Also legit the first part of this barely has any interactions but eh- idk where I was going with this-

Might make this into a series, idk yet.. Also definitely one of my more boring and bad works sadly..

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

Coming back to the hotel from an outing in the city, you were met with chaos. Everyone was running around, Razzle and Dazzle were hanging up a banner reading > Welcome Daddy < what was happening? Ducking your head as Sir Pentious darts past you, before making your way over to Charlie.

"Sweetheart, what's happening?" Laying your hand softly on Charlie's shoulder, her hair flies around as she comes to face you. You were one of the first people to join the hotel back then, having grown close to Charlie over that time, she viewed you as a parent figure, while you viewed her like a daughter. "My dad is coming and everything has to be perfect! He has to be assured he can trust me and help me!" That explained a lot, especially why Charlie was so stressed. Pulling her into a hug now, your hand softly gliding over her head, as you mutter how she should not stress too much and that she is doing amazing. Noticing how her body was relaxing against your own, you were glad to have calmed her down at least a little bit.

After helping the others a bit more, it was finally time. Charlie swept her hands on her jacket, before opening the door. A bright choice sounding, as Lucifer pulls his daughter into a tight hug. Before saying hello to Keekee, Razzle and Dazzle. He was.. different than everyone probably though.

Watching Alastor talk to Lucifer now, they for sure could not stand the other one, this would be fun. Charlie now introduced Vaggie to him, which made you smile a little bit when Lucifer took her into his arms. The rest was quickly introduced before Charlie pulled you beside her. "And this is Y/N, Dad! They really helped me a lot already, of course like anyone else here too!" Fumbling around with her words a bit, you softly lay your hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We know what you mean dear, Charlie is an amazing girl, we are really proud of her." Your eyes were on Charlie, before greeting Lucifer correctly.

It was quiet for a second before a crash could be heard. Oh shit.. For a few minutes, the banter between Alastor and Lucifer continued on, making you sigh as you sat down beside Angel. This way going great huh? Vaggie was also at the end of her nerves right now. As they were seemingly coming to an end finally, the doors slammed open and some short blonde lady walked in as if she owned this place. Being introduced to her soon, you decide to tag along with Charlie and the others to show her dad around.

You were simply following the others, listening to Charlie nervously ramble on, only glancing over your shoulder for a second as Husker stopped Alastor, but you decided to not give it another thought.

Arriving at the balcony, you and Vaggie stand back, as Charlie and her dad talk. But too soon they were interrupted as some debris was thrown into the hotel and shook the whole building. Rushing through the portal, you guys are back in the foyer of the hotel, looking around for an answer. Mimzy the woman from before finally explained what was happening, you rolled your eyes, how amazing. Too busy with making sure you saw everyone safe, you weren't seeing the debris falling your way. Before you knew it you were swept off your feet, as Lucifer saved you from being smashed by the debris, setting you down on your feet again softly, as his wings disappear again.

"You see now Charlie what I mean? Those sinners destroy everything! They fall into your home and destroy it, they aren't grateful for anything!" Talking to Charlie now, as Alastor finally decided to step in and fight off those damned loan sharks, before telling the woman to disappear. Watching Charlie and her dad now, as you were standing beside Alastor, a frown visible on your face. She worked so hard for this, why couldn't he believe in her? Though quickly everything explained itself and both of them seemed to finally makeup, a tear slipping from your eye from how beautiful this moment was.

"All right.. I'll get you that meeting but.. once in heaven you're alone I.. can't come with you." Lucifer told Charlie, before disappearing in a red cloud.

That was now a month ago. Right now everyone was getting ready for that damned extermination. Sadly Charlie's conversation with Heaven didn't do anything, on top of that the tension in the whole group grew, with Vaggie being an old exterminator. But that was all over now, as the whole group decided to have one last drink the night before the big battle. You were talking with Husker, as Angel was with Cherri, Alastor and Niffty looking upon everyone and Charlie with Vaggie nowhere to be seen. And of course, Sir Pentious trying to strike up a conversation with Cherri. You hoped everything would go well tomorrow and that no one would die.

The morning arrived, and everyone was gathered outside to protect the hotel, to protect Charlie's dream. Everyone was ready for this.

Almost everything seemed to go down in a wink, the hotel was in shambles, Alastor was missing - assumingly dead, Sir Pentious gave his life for the group and Adam was killed. Now the rebuild of the hotel was in full swing, everyone was helping, even Cherri who wasn't even a resident of the hotel yet. Lucifer also stayed to help his daughter and somehow convinced her to let him have a room too and stay with the group.

"Have you seen Charlie? Some new shipments came." The blonde was approaching you now, his coat and hat off, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Raising to your feet from where you were kneeling to work on some nails, you swept some sweat from your forehead before turning to Lucifer. "She and Vaggie went to town real quick for some errands, but she told me where to put them, let me show you." Laying the hammer down on one of the many workbenches, you go accept the shipments, before showing Lucifer the way.

You and him had quite a few conversations over the last few days, with you being a parent figure for Charlie and him being her father, you two talked a lot about how well she is doing. What you didn't notice were the fleeting glances the king of hell threw your way every now and then.

"She told me to just put it here." Opening the door to a little cabinet now on the first floor of the hotel in the foyer. This was the first thing finished, right now the works were on the upper rooms. Putting down the box you were carrying on the shelf, Lucifer followed where you put the other box, before thanking you for helping him out. "Soo.. The hotel is coming together rather nicely huh?" Looking over to you with his red eyes now, as you close the door, a bit confused he was striking up a conversation right now. "Yeah, everyone is doing so amazingly, I'm glad we got so much help.. If we don't look at Niffty punching holes in the new floor trying to catch roaches.." At least some things were apparently not changing and stayed the same.

"Say.. when the hotel is finished would you perhaps.. you know.. maybe.. be interested in a date?" Stopping in your tracks now, you blink a few times. Did you just hear correctly? The Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell just asked you for a date? Turning your head around now, your cheeks slowly become a crimson-red color. Looking at him, he didn't really look different, his cheeks red, as he was sheepishly playing with his sleeves. "You want to go on a date with me?" Raising his eyes to meet yours, he simply nods. "To be honest with you, you caught my eye the day I first came here but.. then all this happened and we never really got to talk and I was worried you would think I'm weird for asking, so I thought I should maybe wait a bit-" He was rambling on, probably from how nervous he was to ask you out. After his ex-wife left him, he didn't really date anyone after that, so it's been a while since he has ever asked someone for a date. "I would love to. Thank you for asking me." Laying your hand softly over his, giving it a soft reassuring squeeze to tell him not to worry too much. Sadly the moment was cut short, when Angel called for you, having someone questions about about paint.

Lucifer's eyes followed you now, the smile on his face not being able to be hidden now, fist-pumping the air happily over how he finally asked you. Charlie came back that moment and looked a little bit more than worried at her father, but overall no new behavior from him.

The hotel was soon finished, Alastor also came back, making at least Charlie relieved that he was still alive, Husker and Lucifer didn't seem so pleased with that fact, but they would get over it.

So now, it was time for your date with Lucifer. Charlie was thrilled when she heard you would be going on a date with her dad, at first you were rather worried about how she would react, but she was happy that her dad was trying to find love again. Making sure your hair was sitting right and your clothes were wrinkle-free, when a knock sounded at your door. Taking one last breath, you open it and are met with Lucifer. His hat was gone and he was wearing a white suit, similar to what he normally wore but more suitable for a fancy dinner - as fancy as a dinner in hell can be.

"You look amazing! Oh my! Look at you!" Lucifer was throwing compliments at you left and right, before he caught himself again, straightened his jacket, and then extended his arm for you to take. "Thank you, you also look amazing tonight Lucifer." Taking his arm now, he guides you two to the elevators which take you down to the foyer. Charlie was trying subtly to look at you two, but failing miserably. "Charlie is staring at us and almost crying.." Whispering to Lucifer now, he just nods, making sure to throw Vaggie a begging look to take care of Charlie, as you two leave the hotel. He decided to take you to the more finer side of Pentagram City, where rather expensive shops and restaurants were and which were less bloody.

"Here we are! It's the finest one I know around here!" Leading you inside, it was a big place. The restaurant had a fountain in the middle and had many plants all around the wide place. Marble floors, stone walls were adorned with gold elements and gold was seen all throughout the place. This was definitely an expensive place by the looks of it. A waiter leading you to a table no, you were sure was the best one in the whole restaurant. It was by a wide window, having a good look down the city, in the distance you could even see the hotel slightly, especially the big sign reading Hazbin Hotel.

"This place is beautiful but.. it looks rather expensive, are you sure this is okay?" Of course you knew who Lucifer was and he could basically afford anything in this whole city and do anything he wanted, you just wanted to make sure. Assuring you now that you shall not worry about something like that. Ordering food and enjoying the meal together, it was a nice evening. Everything goes by smoothly and you and Lucifer finally get around to know each other better. Sadly the dinner was over too quickly, Lucifer leading you back to the hotel now, while telling you a story from Charlie's childhood, which made you giggle. He truly was a gentleman and had a pure heart, he cared so much about Charlie.

"So.. would you.. repeat this another time? I mean only if you also enjoyed it! I of course did enjoy it! I mean you're amazing and-" Standing in front of your room now, you silence him with a soft kiss to the cheek, before looking at him softly fixing his suit. "I would love to Luci, I enjoyed this evening with you alot." Raising your eyes again to meet his, you can't help but let out a giggle at his expression. Eyes blown wide, mouth open and cheeks blazing red. "Great! Yeah! Woah! Me too! Especially the food, poah that was amazing! And the place was really worth it! Was it to your liking? I really hope so because-" Pulling him down by his suit now, your lips softly meeting his, eyes closed, before seperating again as you look at him. "Sorry.. You were rambling so nervously.. Please don't worry, I mean it when I say loved tonight.. Now sleep well Luci." Planting another kiss to his cheek, you enter your room, closing the door behind yourself.

You can help but smile at his little giggles as he skips down the hallway to his own room now. He was something, but you were looking forward to more dates that would follow this one.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine #hazbin lucifer imagine #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader

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metalomagnetic · 7 months ago

Text

After seeing about 50 'Dumbledore is evil' and 'everything is Dumbledore's fault' and 'but why didn't Dumbledore did this or the other' posts in a row, I find myself wishing Dumbledore just fucked off to somewhere nice and sunny in '81, early retirement (or is it early if he's already 100?) and washed his hands off magical Britain entirely.

Some of y'all sound like Fudge with your Dumbledore bashing. I wish, at least, Dumbledore would have left when Fudge and that corrupt as hell Ministry did their best to ruin his name and his image.

Pack up his ancient shit and move to a nice beach somewhere, with his pet bird and a huge bag of candy.

This way, my man Voldemort could have won in like five minutes, and Harry would be dead, Voldemort would rule supreme, Bella would keep being the queen she is, and my little Voldemort shaped heart would be happy.

But no, Dumbledore stayed, orchestrated Voldemort's downfall by giving Harry step by step instructions, gave up his own life in the process, made sure Harry would keep his, because apparently that's what 'evil men' do instead of retiring in comfort.

Not only Harry wouldn't have survived without Dumbledore, but he most likely wouldn't even exist without Dumbledore. Because, you know, this evil man is also the one that took down another dark lord back in the day; if Grindelwald would have won, there would be no Lily, most likely. Thus no Harry.

But yes, go get your 'Dumbledore is evil' badges- I hear Fudge and Umbridge are leaders of the hate club, I'm sure they'll receive new followers with open arms. Draco is probably the secretary, because he hates Dumbledore, too, and he likes making badges.

Also, can someone explain to me how Dumbledore, the only gay man in canon, became the fandom's resident homophobe? That's just weird, my friends. Very weird, to say the least. It gets even nastier when you say he 'groomed' students. That's an awful thing to throw around about a gay dude, you know?

There are so many reasons one can dislike Dumbledore for, but you do have the option to not like a flawed character without turning them into a ridiculous caricature of themselves.

P.S: I am not talking about fics. Write your fics and your characters however you want, whatever makes you happy. Your fic is your domain, and you do whatever you want in there, hopefully with no asshole to attack you in the comments. Same with reading- read what you want, bashing or no bashing. Have the best of fun!

I am talking about these 'meta' type posts on social media, tagged with "Albus Dumbledore", where they act as if canon Dumbledore was legit evil, incompetent or homophobic.

#albus dumbledore #marauders fandom #yes marauders fandom I am looking at you #harry potter #Dumbledore would forgive y'all but I can't #flawed character doesn't mean evil #it means he's just human

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prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 10 months ago

Note

fic where baker reader and lucifer both really like each other but are too scared to admit their feelings so reader makes him a cupcake with a frosting duck on top as a surprise

Sweet duckcakes ( Lucifer Morningstar x Baker! Reader)

Thank you for the request anonymous! This is such a cute idea myself!!! Feel free to leave more request

Idk why but I feel like Lucifer would love the duck cake from Bluey.

I legit accidentally deleted this half way through writing it, I could cry

NOT PROOF READ!!

Warnings: stealing my baker reader stuff on how they started working in the hotel from my last fic, season 2 headcanon

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

No ones POV:

Y/N has been working in the Hazbin hotel since day one, only then it was called ‘Happy Hotel’ Charlie employed them to be the head chef, prepare meals of staff and residents. It also meant Y/N could stay rent free so they accepted. Only then, back when it was only them, Charlie, Vaggie and the only resident, Angel dust. But as time has past, the Hotel has become more lively. Alastor, Husk and Nifty join the staff and another resident named Sir Pentious.

Even though Y/N was happy to see Charlie’s dreamed come true, but with each new person in the hotel mean more and more food to make, they were almost nearly in the kitchen all the time but they didn’t mind.

With the extermination looming closer, Charlie had no choice but to call her dad for help. Y/N was happy to know he accepted to come, To prepare for his visit Charlie asked Y/N to bake for his visit, which they happily did. They quickly run into the kitchen with Nifty following behind, she wanted to make cookies. Y/N and Nifty baked away, while nifty worked on cookies, Y/N chose cupcakes!

Nifty finshed first and ran into the main room while they stay behind so they could decorate the cupcakes. After 30 minutes they were done and they took them to the main room. As they turned the corner they see a rather weird sight…Alastor and Lucifer is a battle on who’s the better father. Y/N kinda stood there watching the two with everyone else till they were interrupted by someone named Mimsy, this finally allowed them to meet Lucifer.

“Dad, this Y/N, our head chef!” Charlie moves her dad over to them and they give a sweet smile to him. “It’s nice to finally meet you your majesty.”, as they said this they moved their tray to one hand and extended their now free hand, they took notice of Lucifer’s small blush. He took your hand, Y/N couldn’t help but notice his soft hands, “please call me Lucifer.” He said to you with a smile. “Why thank you..” they said to him as they remembered the treats. “Oh!” They said mainly to themself, they hold out the tray. “Please take one I made these for your visit.”

Lucifer took the treat in his hand looking over it, it had red frosting with a little apple slice in it. “Why thank you.” Lucifer said as he took one of the frosted treat and took a bite of it. He eyes life up as he tasted it. “This is amazing!” He said as he ate, Y/N couldn’t help but feel their heart race as this words. “They’re’s a reason they are the head chef! Now to the rest of the hotel,” Charlie continued to speak and show off the hotel. Y/N place the tray down on the nearby table and as they turn they couldn’t help but notice his eyes on them, they blushed and felt their own heart race.

Little did they know that was only the beginning. After his eventful visit, where him and Charlie both agreed to make an effort, he was in the hotel more. While he spent time with his daughter he always saw Y/N, he was great company to have, always so sweet. It was hard to admit they had growing feeling for him, how could they? He was her bosses father and the king of hell.

It only became worst after the hotel was destroyed and was rebuilt, during the process of rebuilding it, Lucifer moved in. Though Y/N believed it would be a blessing in disguise. You guys were frequently hanging out together, he was always so sweet, he loved to help cook and back with you. Y/N was very thankful for that considering how many more people were not in the hotel, but, this only has their feeling grow more…both their feelings. Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn’t like Y/N they were a dove…the light in the dark.

There were many nights they work yourself too hard and feel alseep in the kitchen only to wake up on one of the couches with a blanket they recognized…it belong to Lucifer. Each time they wanted to keep it, it smelled just like him, but, each time they returned it. They leave it folded with a nice little note. Lucifer loved the notes keeping them in a box, he also sleeps with each blanket, he smell of your are your perfume is intoxicating.

Though pretty much everyone was aware of both their feelings for each other neither would admit it, so in fashion of the residents of the hotel, they decided to help by dropping small (rather obvious) hints, though Charlie was the most discreet about her hints, mainly at hinting at things to you both like, similar interests you things both like. One thing Y/N took of something from Charlie’s and from Lucifer himself…he seem to really love ducks, from gifting them rubber ducks and leaving rubber ducks around the hotel.

One night after making up on the couch with a certain blanket on them, they had to thank him and a perfect idea came into their head. They Return the blanket back with another note, Y/N quickly made their way into the kitchen, ready to bake their morning away for Lucifer’s surprise.

TIME SKIP

Lucifer woke up to the sound of soft knocking, he recognized this knock, it was Y/N’s. He quickly shot up out of his bed running to the door. He nearly swung open the door to see your face, what a perfect thing to make up to, “good morning do-“ Lucifer stopped mid sentence noticing a gray with a cover in their hands, he looked back up at their E/C eyes. “What’s that?” He asked curiously. Y/N could help but smile he looked so handsome after waking up. (He wears duckie pajamas.) “may I come in?” Y/N asked happily, Lucifer blushed softly and nodded his head moving out of the way of the door “o-of course come in!”

Y/N walked in admiring his room, it was so elegant looking, they then turned to face him “I want to say thank you for always taking care of me, not leaving me to sleep in the kitchen floor means a lot to me, so, I want to say thank you.” They said as they placed the tray down on the dresser. “And I know you love ducks so..” Y/N them wiped off the cover revealing 6 cupcakes! Not just any cupcakes, they were Vanilla cupcakes with yellow frosting and on top were little ducks made of frosting. Lucifer looked wides eyed at them, before look at their smiling face. “You made these for me?” He asked softly.

“Of course!” They said happily, you’ve always helped me out and you mean a lot to me..” Lucifer stay quiet before quickly hugging them tight. “Thank you Y/N..” he said softly, the hug caught Y/N by surprise but they quickly hugged back a soft blush on their face. “Anything for you..”

Tag list

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @aarkhamkknight @pooplyface1423 @purplethree @dog55teeth

#x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar #fanfic

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evermoresqueiswriting · 8 months ago

Text

dance the night

"Baby, you can find me under the lights Diamonds under my eyes Turn the rhythm up, don't you wanna just Come along for the ride? Oh, my outfit so tight You can see my heartbeat tonight I can take the heat, baby, best believe That's the moment I shine"

summary: barbie date and an invitation from clarisse you can't refuse

pairing: clarisse la rue x f!reader

word count: 3.4k

tags: fluff fluff fluff

series masterlist 2/?

You were getting more and more comfortable at camp. You were getting along very well with your siblings. Especially Lee and Cornelia, who explained everything – sometimes twice – to you. They also explained to you that if you wanted to leave camp during the summer, you needed to get an authorisation from Mr. D. And Clarisse knew, so she told you to get it since it was your idea to go see that movie. Your siblings told you he rarely gave them away.

“Mmh. I accept this challenge.”

“It really wasn’t,” Lee said. “It was a piece of information at best.”

You walked, determined, to Mr. D’s office. You didn’t have many arguments, but Cornelia did tell you Mr. D was always looking for campers to give him alcohol even though his father, Zeus, forbade him to drink any. Mr. D was playing cards with Chiron. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, you hesitated before Chiron looked up.

“Yes?” he said, putting his cards down.

“Mmh,” you froze before staring at your camp director, “I needed to talk to Mr. D, please.”

Chiron turned his face to look at Mr D, and he took off his sunglasses before looking at you.

“What?”

“I need authorisation to leave camp for one day,” you explained firmly. “Please.”

“And why would I give you that?”

“Because I need it. For next week, the 21st,” you begged.

Mr D stared at you, bored. He was ready to take back his cards, when you shouted, desperately.

“I–I’ll give you alcohol in exchange!”

“No you will not!” Chiron gave you a hard stare. “Zeus–.”

“I’m desperate, so yes I will.”

Mr D was still silent.

“What is this about y/n?” Chiron asked. “Why do you need to leave camp?”

“I– I asked Clarisse on a date. Well,” you faltered. “It’s not exactly a date I don’t think, it’s more like I won a bet, and what I asked for was for us to go see a movie together. So maybe it is? And it would suck for me if I can’t go, when I won the bet you know.”

Chiron and you were both looking at Mr. D, and you had your best puppy eyes for him.

“Still a no for me,” Mr. D took his cards.

“Please, please, please, please, please!”

Mr. D shook his head. You sighed, thinking about what to say to try and convince him to let you go.

“That’s–,” you hesitated before blurting out “such a homophobic thing to do in 2024 to refuse to let us go on a date! Which is what that is… a date, with us girls.”

“What?” Mr. D muttered confused.

“And during pride month? You have no shame. It’s–.”

“Fine, if I give you this authorisation, will you shut up and leave?”

You nodded vigorously. And Mr. D sent you a flying paper with the snap of a finger, and after reading the paper to make sure it was legit – which did take a few minutes – you ran away in case he changed his mind. The first person you ran into Luke and asked him if he had seen Clarisse. He pointed at the Ares cabin, and told you he saw her go in.

You walked to her cabin, and knocked, shouting Clarisse’s name over and over again. The door flew open, revealing an annoyed Clarisse.

“Hi,” you smiled.

Her face softened slightly at your sight, but she still looked at you annoyed, with her arms crossed.

“What?”

“Guess what?” your hands were in your back, hiding away the piece of paper you got earlier.

“Your boyfriend called your mom to ask her why you ditched him?”

“What?” you hesitated. “No. First, I don't have a boyfriend, they were all losers in my school. And no girlfriends either for the same reason.”

“Good,” she nodded. “So what was the news then?”

The paper was still held behind your back, you held her gaze a few more seconds before showing her proudly the paper. She looked at the paper, frowning, and then took your paper. You stood there patiently, swinging on your feet, waiting for her to finish reading it at her own pace.

“How did you get Mr. D to agree to this?” she puts the paper down.

“It’s a secret. But I’ll tell you if you want to know.”

“Of course I do, no one here in years got one of these,” she shook the paper in front of you.

You held up your index, and made a ‘come closer’ motion with it. She came closer, and you put your face even closer, her nose almost touching yours. Clarisse was taller than you – taller than most campers actually – and your face was facing up. And having her this close to you, it was as if time had stopped. You smiled.

“I promised him alcohol,” you whispered.

“What!” she stepped back. “Do you know Zeus–.”

“I know, I know, Cornelia told me. I don’t remember what I said after that,’ you lied, “I guess he just likes me.”

“Okay,” Clarisse smiled, “liar.”

Clarisse and you stood there, at the threshold of the Ares cabin for a few more moments, just enjoying each other's company before her siblings ran in, pushing you toward Clarisse. Your body slammed against hers, her arms wrapped around your shoulders to steady you. You would have been upset if it weren’t for the outcome. But Clarisse quickly let go before grabbing the shirt of her brother – Mark – and made him stop in his tracks. You didn’t hear what she said, but you saw Mark nodding vigorously before walking away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Clarisse grabbed your arm and led you outside.

“So,” you started when she stopped under a tree and sat there. “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“No. Do you?”

“Uh obviously! I have the perfect outfit for Barbie. I actually planned this before coming here, minus the ‘going to camp half-blood’ cause I didn’t think I’d end up here. It’s all pink, and cute and oh, should I also do my nails? Should we do our nails all pink?” you beamed at the idea.

“No.”

“True, yours do look very good in black,” you nodded. “Oh, we could cosplay Barbie and Raquelle. But it’s not going to be accurate, Raquelle hates Barbie.”

“I think it’s pretty accurate,” she shrugs.

You slapped her arms playfully before laying your head on her lap. The weather was nice, the sun was out and the leaves were shading you from it, the perfect combination for you to take a nap. And then Clarisse started to run her fingers on your arm which made it for you. You were asleep in no time.

“Wake up sunshine,” Clarisse pinched you lightly on the hip. You jerked awake.

“What?” you mumbled, standing up.

“I have to meet up with my brothers and sisters for the next Capture the Flag strategy.”

“Can I come too?” you yawned.

“We’re not on the same team, remember.”

“I won’t tell them anything.”

“Nope,” she walked away, “don’t follow me,” she turned around, walking backwards.

I’d follow you everywhere you go Clarisse La Rue.

“I won’t,” you said instead.

The night before the date, you laid out your outfit neatly before washing up to go to bed. Cornelia was your bunkmate, with the bed above yours. But before going to sleep, you loved updating each other’s day.

“So tomorrow huh,” Cornelia sat on your bed. “I never thought I’d live to see Clarisse being friendly with anyone other than her siblings.”

“I think she’s funny.”

“Sure, if funny was a synonym of mean. Wait– do you even have money to spend on tomorrow’s activities?”

“Actually I do. Mr. D did tell me he wouldn’t give me any, and thank gods I found a load of cash in my backpack. My mom gave it to me. I mean she did write it was for any expense that I would have to make on my way home, but I have other priorities.”

“Clearly,” she rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re gonna regret this in August.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Like before any exciting day, it took some time to fall asleep. Anxiety and excitement mixing together, making up the worst and best scenarios. What if Clarisse is just messing with you and forgot? That can’t happen, you just saw her a few hours ago talking about it. What if you annoyed her so much with it, she’d stood you up? What if she doesn’t like everything you planned? Not a single positive and happy ‘what if’ comes to your mind.

“Wake up!” someone shakes you awake. “It’s 8 already, you're going to be late!” Cornelia said.

“Fuck!” you ran to the washroom.

You rushed through your routine, before rushing back to your bed and grabbed your outfit, and put it on. And all of that only took 28 minutes. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a final check up, before opening the door. Clarisse was already there. Her curls free, just like the first time you saw her. It felt weird not seeing her in her usual orange tee, but she still looked pretty. She wore a simple short brown tank top with blue faded jeans, with her beaded necklace still hanging from her neck.

“You look really pretty today,” Clarisse smiled shyly, holding her arms around her.

“Thanks,” you approached her, putting your hands on her arms and leaned in, “you look pretty every day.”

“Don’t come home too late,” Lee interrupted, appearing just next to you.

“Don’t worry, but also don’t wait up!”

You grabbed Clarisse’s hand and dragged her away from your cabin. A taxi was waiting for you outside of the camp, and in no time you were at the local theatre in the middle of nowhere. And lucky for you, the people of this town weren’t going to see the 9:30am slot for Barbie. Except for that one couple sitting in the back. You dragged Clarisse in the middle, and sat with the popcorn and sodas. You ate in silence, watching the trailers.

Well that was not fun. The worst ‘what ifs’ from last night came back immediately making you anxious. It was not supposed to be like this. What if she wasn’t enjoying herself. What if she was mad because she ate a salty popcorn when you asked for the sweet ones. What if she was disappointed—

“Ouch,” you looked at her, frowning, rubbing your arm. “Why did you do that?”

“You were ignoring me.”

“What? Oh I– I didn’t hear sorry.”

“I asked you, what’s the deal with Barbie anyway? Why are you so excited about a blonde, white, plastic doll?”

“W– Barbie is not– ok. She is a plastic doll, and she may not look like us but it’s the idea of Barbie, the idea that us women can be anything we want. And how in Barbie Land, it’s all about girls and women being able to be whoever they want, and have whatever jobs they want. Barbie is literally a doctor, a pilot, a model, a chef, a fashion designer, a business woman, a teacher – she has every job in the world. And there is no one telling her that she can’t do that because she’s not a man. And also, the Barbie franchise is my childhood. The movies, they deserve an Oscar honestly–,” you stopped. “Sorry, I talk too much.”

“I asked,” her attention went back to the screen. “So did you have any barbies?”

“Of course! I had Barbie's dreamhouse, and so many barbies and outfits. I’m surprised I didn’t end up being a writer with all my imagination. Did you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“My mom wasn’t the kind to buy me anything. And certainly not dolls.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t feel sad for me, I’m fine,” she gave you a quick glance.

“I’m not!” you frowned. “So you never watched Barbie and A Christmas Carol? The best Barbie movie ever?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, we have to change that. Mmh. But phones and laptops aren’t allowed though… Maybe if I bring my mom’s DVD player next summer.”

“Already planning on your next move to woo me?” she teased, approaching you.

Your eyes widened, your cheeks were hot.

“I– No! I– I– I don’t.”

“Relax sunshine, I’m kidding,” she laughed.

And just then, the lights went out and the movie was about to start, thank the gods. Because you did not know what to say. The movie was incredible, you shed a few tears at the end, and sang Dance The Night with Clarisse laughing and cheering you on. It was a great experience, and it was even better to have watched it with Clarisse.

“Did you like it?” you asked her when the credits started rolling.

“Yes. It was great.”

“And you’ll love the other Barbie movies because they are way less depressing.”

“So, what’s next?” she stood up.

“It’s almost time to eat, what do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

“No you choose, I insist,” you smiled.

Really you were just very indecisive. Clarisse settled for a burger place not too far away from the cinema. There weren't many people inside, so you were able to choose where to sit – a table next to the window. It was a booth seat, so you had your own booth each, facing each other, menu in hand.

“So, what are you choosing?” you asked her.

“I’ll take the Highwayman. You?”

“The Roadhouse looks good.”

Clarisse raised her hand and weaved at the waitress, when you grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Can you order for me please?”

She furrowed her brow, but nodded. You smiled. You only waited ten-or-so minutes before the waitress came back with your food. Like always, you checked the inside of your burger before eating it, you picked out the onions and the tomato.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t like these.”

“Couldn’t you have asked the waitress to take them out.”

“No…”

“Give me your tomato then,” she opened her burger bun.

You were the one entertaining lunch. Clarisse asked questions about your life and you told her – you told her stories about your childhood, your school, your mom and she listened, nodding along. Once you were done, you took a cab and decided to go to the mall.

“We don’t have any money,” Clarisse stopped you when you were going to step into the mall.

“I do. Remember I paid for the tickets, and the food.”

“Yeah, but I thought you only had enough for these.”

“Nope. Well, remember how I said my mom is an opera singer. It was you fifty percent talent and fifty percent nepotism and generational wealth. Meaning I’m rich, I mean my mom but her love language is sending me money for not raising me,” you joked.

She stared at you, concerned.

“I’m kidding,” you grabbed her hand, “let’s shop.”

Clarisse refused to accept anything you’d set eyes on for her.

“Well, at least try on some of them, just to see.”

She agreed to it, which was a mistake because now that you knew her size, you could buy her everything she laid eyes on. She was trying on this dark green simple long sleeve tee shirt, and after she put it back, you took it with you.

“What are you doing?” she tried to grab the tee shirt back.

“I might want it for myself!” you hid it behind your back.

‘Doesn’t look like something you’d wear.”

“My style changes, it depends on my mood. Maybe I want us to have matching clothes.”

“Then why is there only one in your hand?”

You quickly grabbed another one. And then it was settled. You’d buy her things and then another copy for you – everything went, from boots to tee shirts to pants, and jackets. Then you went to a jewellery shop. You needed new rings because yours flew away from your hands during the last Capture the Flag – they were obviously a tad too big.

“Did you find anything you like?” you asked her.

“No, they aren't the most useful things to have.”

You pouted, and threw a bunch on the table.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting these back on the shelves, cause I chose half of these for you,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh,” she took a look at the jewellery.

Various rings and bracelets.

“They’re great, I love them.”

“No you don’t.”

“You picked them out so yes, I do.”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“Maybe you don’t have to buy all of it, just one of each.”

You nodded, and picked one ring for her, and two bracelets for each of you. You gave them to the seller to wrap them and left to look at other items. Clarisse soon joined you and soon enough the seller gave a little bag, you paid and left. Your hands were full of shopping bags, and before leaving you needed a little bit of rest so you two sat on the chairs in the resting area. Thankfully the mall wasn’t too crowded as it was still early in the afternoon on a random Tuesday.

“Huh!” you gasped pointing at something behind Clarisse.

“What?” she turned around swiftly, not seeing any threat.

“A photobooth!” you smiled.

You stood up, grabbed all of your bags and walked to the booth, hoping Clarisse was following you. You turned around, and Clarisse was still sitting still, legs crossed, leaned into the chair, staring at you. You held your hands together, and motionned her to come. She didn’t move for a good minute, but seeing how you weren’t going to move, she caved in and stood up.

“Sunshine,” she put her hands on your shoulders, “you can look at me for free, I won’t charge you, don’t worry.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“You’ll thank me in a few years because of this. Pictures are the best kind of souvenirs.”

Clarisse got in first, the space was a tight fit, and you were glued to Clarisse, but you two fit in the frame so it was good. You put the coins inside, and waited for it to take the picture. But that was not good enough for Clarisse – she put her arm around your waist and scooped you onto her lap.

“Better?”

You nodded, staring at her.

“Better,” you confirmed.

You went to take a pose but too late, the four pictures were already taken.

“It’s fine, we’ll take another one.”

Another turned into another few more and you ended with a ton of pictures. By the time you left the mall it was already pretty late. Almost time to go home. But neither of you wanted that, so you went to the beach instead – main beach in the east. It was empty – people at this hour were all eating. You two sat on the sand, far from the shore.

“Did you have a great time?” you asked.

“Yes,” she looked at you, “did you?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Aren’t you glad you lost that bet against me?”

“Mmh,” she shrugged, “my option would’ve been just as good for me.”

“Well, I am glad I won. I prefer this option much better.”

Clarisse started to lay down but you grabbed her arm.

“Sand will get in your hair.”

“I’ll wash it tonight, it’s fine.”

You shook your head, and took off your blouse and laid it on the sand, behind Clarisse. She tried to protest, but you were quicker.

“I don’t want this day to end,” you admitted, staring at the waves. “I don’t think Mr. D will give us another authorisation anytime soon,” you laughed.

Clarisse stared at you, not saying anything. You arrived at camp only a week ago, and yet you two were already closer than she was with any of her siblings. You were nice to her, always rooting for her, and you were a great friend. Not many people were these things to the Ares kids.

“There this field trip around October,” Clarisse sat up again, “I suppose you’re not staying around the whole year. But it’d be great if you could come.”

“A field trip? To where?”

“It’s something we do once a year at camp,” she explained. “A trip to Olympus.”

You thought about it.

“Are you asking me to meet your father? I didn’t think we were already at this stage so early on."

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue fanfic #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader

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assassinmidnight · 1 month ago

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Flufftober day 17, Only one bed

Jason/RedHood xVigilante!AFAB!Reader

Reader's vigilante name is Score

Not proof read, I have dyslexia and a test tomorrow(sorry for any mistakes)

Summery: You need a place to crash for a bit, but Jason only has one bed.

The world was ending, legit ending. Lex Luthor must have planned this because this is pure evil. The thoughts run through your mind as Jason gives you the keys to his place. “I know it’s not ideal, but we don’t really have a choice in the situation,” he flashed his signature grin before heading further into the run-down studio.

It was one medium sized room with a door that led to the bathroom, the plumbing was probably illegal in some way, knowing Jason. The place had a portable stove, a microwave and a mini fridge in one corner. Work out equipment and a huge computer set up in another, and there was a singular bed pushed against the only window in the building. Only one bed, not even a couch.

“Um and you’re still sure about this, you know, sleeping in the same bed,” you mutter out, eyes darting about as to not meet his eyes. “I told you it's fine, ill shower before and i’ll wear a bodysuit if it makes you feel better, but no way that you are sleeping on the floor,” he held up a one piece as to show he was telling the truth, he wouldn’t let you sleep on the cold floor, and you wouldn’t let him do that either. “Okay, um thanks, for letting me stay for a while,” he looked over at you, putting down a dumbbell. He felt the need to let off steam and the mere thought of sharing a bed with you, but seeing your face fall trumped any jitters. “Hey it’s okay princess, I'll always be here for you, in any capacity you need. Promise,” he smiled, having walked up to you. You smiled back, though you felt your heart tug, he couldn’t be there in the way you wanted.

—

“Score, do you have eyes on them?”

Red Hood’s voice echoed through the com in your ear, voice laced with something you couldn’t place. “Yeah, three men, 6-6’2 I’d say, all armed with guns.” Currently you were sitting on the roof of a building in downtown Gotham, scouting the area before you and Hood went down to ‘take care’ of it. You could feel the goosebumps grow on your skin, you wanted to blame the cold but knew that it probably had more to do with Jason speaking so slowly into his comm. You knew it was to avoid detection and to help the voice manipulator in his mask a bit more, but still, it sent lightning up your spine. “Are you ready?” “Yes,” your response was immediate and automatic, you knew it was because of Jason’s voice, otherwise you’d probably spend 5 more minutes preparing mentally for all the loud noises.

—

You wobble into the studio, exhausted, with Jason on your heels. It had been fairly easy, but the guns had been louder than you had anticipated, and with the amount of close combat that had been required you felt overstimulated to the max. Just wanting to sleep you barely got out of your suit before hitting the bed, somewhere behind you Jason mentioned making you some tea if you took a short shower and changed into something else. Just by being Jason he convinced you, and you would’ve felt bad if he had to sleep next to you while you were smelling of sweat and gun residue.

Jason heard how the shower turned on and wondered if maybe he should tell you. He didn’t want to, but maybe it would be better if he did, he didn’t want to be selfish like this. The decision whirled around in his head as he prepared your cup of tea.

Getting out of the shower, feeling more refreshed, your mind noted on something you had missed, you hadn’t felt uncomfortable at the thought of sharing the bed with Jason, despite feeling overstimulated, it had even been a pleasant thought the more you mulled over it. You felt Jason’s eyes on you as you opened the door to the bathroom. He walked to the bed and sat down, waiting for you to come. When you did he made sure to get you comfortable and then handed you the cup. The look on your face when you took the sip must’ve been something because the look on Jason’s face was intense. “It’s good, you got my favourite brand,” a smile broke on his face, his shoulders dropping slightly, “Yeah, of course I did princess, wouldn't want to disappoint you,” he winked at the last word, and if you blushed, it was caused by the tea and shower, not by him. “I’m gonna shower, just yell for your prince charming and I’ll come running,” he joked before grabbing a towel from one of the boxes on the floor and heading into the bathroom.

He came out 10 minutes later, to see you already curled up on the left side of the bed, cup washed and put to dry. He also spotted the toothbrush on the table next to some toothpaste. Shaking his head slightly, he double checked the door before lying down next to you. He was still thinking about telling you, but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you, or for you to wake up while he’s gone. “I can hear you thinking,” your voice rang like bells in his ears and he laughed slightly, “What?” you turned over, meeting his blue eyes, feeling them pierce straight through everything you were. A silence fell over the two of you, spell bound by a single moment in time that seemed to last forever.

“I really like you, like a fucking lot,” your mouth fell open at the words. Jason’s mouth closed rapidly after uttering the words, a bright red flush rising on his cheeks, clearly not knowing what to do in the situation. “I am so sor-” “I like you too,” now it was his turn to be surprised, having cut straight through his apology, your confession made him feel high. Before you could think, both you and Jason were laughing, faces filled with glee. After another few minutes you closed the distance between the two of you, pulling yourself in his neck so you could rest your forehead on his chest, his beat being a lullaby you’d missed despite not knowing it.

“When did you know?” he slowly threaded his fingers through your still damp hair, “Just now, realised that even when I’m overstimulated, I want you to comfort me. You?” You can hear the smile in his voice “I’ve always known, just didn’t know when to say it,” playfully you hit his chest, muttering out “dork” before closing your eyes. Kissing the top of your head, Jason too goes to sleep.

—

You wake up to the sound of the door opening, Jason making a quick move to hide you behind him as he pulls out his gun.

“Whoa, just me,” Dick says, waving a brown bag in the air, based on the smell you can tell it's some sort of pastry. Jason relaxes and puts down the gun, getting out of bed to prepare some breakfast. As you also get out of bed, you see Dick looking between you and his brother.

“He let you sleep on his bed? He always makes me sleep on the extra mattress” Dick groaned, “It hurts my back like crazy,” at the mention of a second mattress your eyes darted over to Jason, who seems to be very interested in the water cooker. Idiot.

Yeah he's an idiot, but he's your idiot

*I DO NOT ALLOW THE PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK, FOR IT TO BE USED IN AI OR FOR IT TO BE REPOSTED ELSEWHERE*

#flufftober 2024 #reader insert #jason todd #autistic reader #red hood #jason todd x reader #fluff #flufftober #flufftober day 17 #only one bed #getting together

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adabird · 4 months ago

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Hii !! I just read your preferences and thought they were really cuteee ~★

If you’re taking requests, would you be able to write a part two of the preferences with the characters: aizawa, tamaki, shoto, midoriya, bakugo, and yo shindo? That is if you write for them, of course. Don’t be afraid to pick and choose which characters who you want to and do not want to write ❕ (I’m so sorry if that was a lot of characters… ☹️)

anyways, i’m greatly delighted by your writing style and very excited to watch your blog grow ❕

— 🤍

(P.S: your taste in characters is AMAZING! and you write them so well?! for sure one of the best i’ve ever seen for all of the character from your preferences)

MHA BOYS PT.2

HEADCANNONS + PREFRENCES

All characters AGED UP! readers BEWARE, there are some NSFW and PROGRESSIVE MOMENTS!

(OMG! It took me like ten minutes to find out to respond, I legit didn’t see the “reply”button. Anyways!)

I was also thinking about making a preferences for the teachers? Like, Aizawa, PresMic, Hawks, All might, Mirko, Midnight? I know Hawks and Mirko aren’t teachers, but I really want an excuse to write them.. Anyways, thank you for the recommendation!)

ALSO! sorry for taking so long to respond I didn’t know this is where the requests went!!

X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X>>X

Bakugou Katsuki-

HEIGHT

Katsuki would really be into the”Height Differences”. Whether you’re taller than him or shorter than him. After he has matured and been out in the hero field for the past 6 years,he’s grown physically and mentally. He’s grown to be more mature mentally, by over coming challenges on the field, and off the field. So when your relationship had started, he had grown less rude, and a tad bit more quieter. His build has also changed, he had gotten bigger, taller, and grown more mussel mass on his body. So, again,when he met you he was about 6’0 and lean. If you’re taller then him, he has the hots for how he gets to grab the base of your neck to pull you into a kiss, and don’t get him started when you lean down to take a picture next to him. MMM. And if you’re shorter, then him he loves when HE gets to lean down and kiss you, and don’t even get him started when you stand on your tip-toes, to grab his cheeks to peck him.

Midoriya Izuku-

LIPS

AHHH OKAY. OKAY. Izuku is really into your lips, just like TSU, he’ll sit down and stare at your lips while you go chatting about whatever subject, or school project you’re doing at that time. He really enjoys inviting you over for study sessions, especially for English class. He loves big lips, small lips, cupid lips, round lips, thin lips, ANY. KIND.He loves when the class is doing a book project, so he can sit and watch you with his puppy dog eyes. He also loves whenever you sit next to him, and kiss his neck while he reads the following passage to you. You drive him crazyyyy..

Tamaki Amajiki-

EYES

MMM! Tamaki is my boy for real. Tamaki gets really jittery because of his anxiety. But when it comes to you, his anxiety always seems to loosen,ESPECIALLY when you two are alone. Tamaki is known for standing in corners, and avoiding eye-contact. However, when he met you, your eyes kept him captivated. Any kind of eyes keeps him captivated.. Small, Big, Round, Almond, Siren, Hooded. It’s all about your eye color. He loves the way they show your emotions, and loves how they shine in the sun.. He loves when you force him into eye contact whenever you talk to him. He gets really turned on by how dominant you can be..

Aizawa Shota-

STRETCH MARKS

GOD. Shota really loves your stretch marks. It all started when you wore a one piece to the private pool. At first you were scared, a little nervous even when it came to taking off your tee. However once you talked it out to Shota, you took it off feeling a bit more confident after the pep-talk you had just endured. He couldn’t stop staring at your stretch marks, at first you wanted to put on your tee until Shota started to speak up. He grabbed your thighs running his hands over your marks. He ended up telling you how turned on he was,and he thought that your stretch marks are extremely sexy. After that day,practically every day after that ended up with Shota next to you caressing and kissing all of your stretch marks telling you how hot you are.

Todoroki Shoto-

VOICE

Shoto bro. Shoto… Shoto really enjoys late night calls with you. He really likes calling you to listen to your voice as it soothes him to sleep. And don’t get me started if you feel insecure, because this man will make sure you love your voice and who you are as a person. AND. especially if someone calls you annoying, that person would come running back to you telling you they were only ‘Messing around’ and hit you with the ‘I didn’t mean to make you upset’, I definitely think Shoto is really protective over you, and makes sure you feel loved.

Yo Shindo-

HANDS

Shindo loves. your. hands. He loves your hands whether they’re big or small. He loves how they wrap around in his hands when he invites you to grab your hand. And he loves how they grip his biceps, and wrap around his back whenever he wraps you up in a hug. He really loves as they cup his face whenever the two of you have your make-out sessions. He really does admire you for your personality, he really enjoys how you involve him into your friend groups. And even his friends LOVE you once you finally meet them..

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thatartiststudios · 6 months ago

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This legit took me a hot minute to read through

(This is also from pinterest)

#rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #rayllum memes #tdp memes #funny memes #tdp #tdp s3

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ipseitydelrey · 10 months ago

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Could you maybe do a fic about Carmy and the reader where they dated all through high school and carmy asked the reader to marry him and she says no bc she doesn’t want to hold him back from going to NYC ?

THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY

as they go by ☆ c. berzatto

ship carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings angst with an ambiguous ending (sorry babes <3), slight manipulation?, a hell of a lot of arguing, possible break-up (choice is yours), not beta-read

word count 1.5k

summary initially, you were fine with having a long-distance relationship with carmy while he was in new york city. after all, you’re just his girlfriend; you were happy with that, and that’s how you want it to stay when he’s gone.

a/n this took so insanely and unnecessarily long and i am so sorry for postponing this fic. took a while and it was difficult to write, but i felt determined to finish this. disclaimer: not my best work but i legit tried

The proposal came as a shock. You were sure it had been many seconds, maybe even a minute or two since Carmy had uttered the words “Will you marry me?” as if it was a common phrase, thrown out into the open.

To be fair, you both did discuss the possibility of marriage in the future. But you were naïve high schoolers, merely seventeen and blind to the problems you’d have to face in your personal and shared lives.

You weren’t annoyed or angry that Carmy had gotten the opportunity in New York City; on the contrary, you were happy. It’s a great thing for his career in the culinary world, and seeing him be so excited about the prospect made you feel so proud to see how far he had come.

Granted, maintaining your relationship while he was in New York and you stayed in Illinois would be hard. You told him to expect a lot of phone and video calls, as well as a bombardment of messages, but you didn’t know at the time that he would be gone for a year at least. Still, you both agreed to try.

You could handle being a long-distance girlfriend, but being a long-distance wife?

“I don’t know,” you default to as no other words could come to mind.

Carmy looks at you confused. “You don’t know?” he parrots. “What do you mean?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.; you don’t even know why you couldn’t just say a simple “yes” or “no.” It’s hard to look him in the eyes, especially when an argument is now inevitable, so you keep your eyes glued to your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“Well, um,” you stammer, struggling to find your verbal footing, “I don’t…wanna move to New York.”

Although you only see a blurred version of him through your peripheral vision, Carmy nods slightly and purses his lips. “I know that already.”

You sigh softly, thinking of what to say next. “I’m comfortable here — I like it in Chicago. It’s just…I don’t know if we can make a long distance thing work if we’re married. I’d be busy and I’m sure you would be too, I don’t know how we would be able to see each other in person if our schedules are so full.”

He sighs; you don’t know if this is actually how he feels, but you swear that he’s annoyed that you didn’t say yes. “Is that it? Y’know, I can just stay here if it worries you—”

“No,” you’re quick to cut him off as you snap your head to look at him. “I don’t want you to give up on an amazing opportunity just because of me.”

“There’s other Michelin star restaurants in Chicago,” he reasons. “I can apply to one of them and stay here.”

“But New York!” You didn’t mean to say it that harshly, so you breathe and try to regain your composure. “I don’t know why you would want to give up being a chef in New York just for me.”

Carmy buries his face in his hands, but his mouth is still exposed. “I’m not…giving it up; I’m just relocating, that’s all. Why are you trying to put my career ahead of you?”

You scoff at the notion. “I’m not.”

“But you are,” he counters exasperatingly. “Why?”

Your lips form a line and you look down. The words are hard to conjure, but they come eventually. “You’ve just loved to cook for so long…and now you have a really good offer and I want you to take it.”

“I’ve loved you for longer.” You can’t really argue when it’s kind of the truth. But then again, he’s always had a interest in cooking — and you’re sure that he developed an interest in you after that.

Knowing that you won’t win this portion of the argument, you sigh, and try to change the topic…sort of. “There’s also another thing,” you mention, and he looks at you again. “I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

His tone has a tinge of frustration. “You mean marriage?” he asks sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You’re starting to grow annoyed at his stubbornness; of course you knew he could get like this, but he’s really not letting this conversation go for another day. “You know I didn’t mean like that.”

“Well it’s the implication.” The hell does implication have to do with anything right now? “You’re saying it like it isn’t important for our relationship.”

“You couldn’t have waited until you got back from New York to pop the question?”

“I’ve waited and I’m impatient.”

“Carmen.” The nickname is no longer effective. It’s clear to him now that you’re genuinely pissed with him and have had it. “You’re not listening to me; I’m not ready. Please drop it.”

“Last time we talked about this, you were excited,” he says. “What changed?”

“Well, for one, age,” you retort. “We were, what, seventeen? It’s just teenage talk, and we were too young to be thinking about marriage already.”

You tiredly sigh, looking down at your hands again. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but instead he says it like a statement for you to confirm.

Hesitantly, you nod. “Just— I’m not ready now, but that doesn’t really mean that I don’t want to get married ever,” you try to grasp at any rational explanation you can, struggling to try to explain why. “If you loved me, then you’d wait, y’know.”

Your eyes shoot wide at the realization of what just slipped out of your lips; did you really just say that? It sounds as if Carmy is thinking that exact same question. “I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t love you?” His voice carries a sliver of anger and insecurity as he asks that.

“No, Carm—”

Your words force him to look away from you, his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched. He breathes once through his nose deeply before abruptly getting up from the couch and making a beeline towards the bedroom. Worried, you follow his path and find him harshly opening the closet door and pulling out an old suitcase.

You stand there, a few feet away from him, realizing what he’s doing. “Carmy—”

“You want me to drop it, I’m dropping it.” He doesn’t even so much as glance at you as he tosses the suitcase on the bed and starts to grabs his clothes. “You want me to go to New York, I’m taking the fucking offer. I know you don’t want me here anymore; that’s fine.”

“That’s not true.”

The way he packs is haphazard, rushed and angry; much like how he tends to cook when he gets too emotional. He doesn’t even take the time to fold some of the clothes, opting to instead stuff them in and hope they fit well enough to get the zipper closed. “You have all these excuses and you keep delaying it. It’s clear — you’re fine with marriage, but not with marrying me. You keep saying that you’re not ready, but you’re just too scared to say no. And now I have to do it for you.”

He does manage to close the suitcase and he’s fast to collect it and move past you. “Carm, please,” you turn to follow him, the initial annoyance from earlier flowing out of your body and being replaced with some sort of anxiety bubbling up in your stomach. “Let’s talk about this.”

“We did.” He’s white-knuckling the handle of the bag and he looks at you for only a second. You see a flash of anger, disappointment, and something else you can’t quite put your finger on in his eyes. He unlocks the front door.

“Carmen—”

And you’re interrupted by the abrupt slam of the door closing and the absence of him. Just like that, he’s gone; not even giving you a chance to change his mind or even explain what he means to you — what he meant to you.

You’re supposed to cry, but you can’t even try to force any tears out. You’re just numb and bewildered at how fast the situation unfolded.

You consider for a moment about chasing him like the end of an early 2000’s romcom, but you know that this isn’t like a movie. This isn’t fiction, it’s reality; he wouldn’t just accept you back into his arms like nothing happened, he’d be bitter and loathsome, even more so than he usually is.

You’re not sad. You can’t bring yourself to be sad over him, especially when he couldn’t try to understand how you felt. No, you’re…angry? Would that even be the right word for how you feel now that he’s gone?

You don’t need to think about that; you don’t want to right now. Instead, you drag yourself back to the couch where this all started and you fall onto its cushions, tired of him and tired of this.

The next step to take isn’t clear to you at the moment. You could call Carmy, you could wait, or you could not speak to him ever again. The choice is yours to make, but you don’t want to choose right now. Your eyelids grow heavy, and so you let yourself fall into a cold sleep.

would y’all want a part 2 or not? i’d only write it if y’all wanted it.

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ carmy ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #the bear #the bear x you #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white

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silverzoomies · 4 months ago

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silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

#peter maximoff headcanons #headcanons #long post #txt #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #asks #anon #i hope this layout works idfk what i'm doing lmao

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minustwofingers · 2 years ago

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exoplanet part 5

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

masterlist! read all the other parts here!

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: violence, Angst with a capital A, ellie being an asshole, nsfw content (minors dni), mentions of vomiting, language, that’s all i can think of now

a/n: ...hey...how yall doing...sorry for edging u all nonstop. that was kind of silly of me. in my defense a) this was a super tough chapter for me to write bc i am very concerned abt how this is going to come off after the lead up and b) i kind of forgot i was a person for the past month bc ive been legit just studying every waking minute and doing nothing else. but anyway here it is! i am so so thankful for everyone’s patience and i’m sorry it took me so long to get this out!

word count: 11k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl

exoplanet inspired playlist!

note - this chapter is not very heavily edited despite (and perhaps because of) its size. i am so sorry if there are really obvious and lazy errors—i will come back and do an overall edit once the series is completed!

enjoy <3

When you were 16, you had your first taste of infinity, wrapped up in the elegant bow of calculus.

You see, all calculus is is the study of change. That’s what your professors drilled into you over and over again. All these fancy symbols and derivatives and integrals—they meant something. All these strange curly brackets and greek letters had a home in tangible reality.

Everything except for the infinity symbol.

You struggled for months on the concepts of limits, on the idea of harnessing infinity. If something was truly infinite, how could you possibly decide where it would end up? How did anyone perform any calculations with the overhanging threat of “goes on forever”?

Everything that has ever existed is finite. It always has been finite, always will be. Even the Sun that warms your skin and grows your crops will eventually explode. Even energy, with its nifty rule of conservation, will stand no chance against a black hole.

There are no natural instances of infinity.

So why were you—of all people—the one who turned your nose up at the consideration that so much of mathematics was based off this shoddy theory of the never-ending—so fucking stupid as to believe that what you had going on wasn’t bound to the same laws of nature?

“Shit,” you said, staring down at the paper. “Shit. Oh my god.”

When you finally tore your eyes from the paper and looked back up at her, she wouldn’t look back.

“It had to be someday now, right? They weren’t going to just leave you out here.”

You swallowed. It did nothing for the gargantuan sized lump in your throat that was currently threatening to escape as a sob. “I—I didn’t think I—”

“No use dwelling on it, huh?” She finally met your eyes, sending you a tight smile. “I assumed it’d be any day now.”

Something twisted inside of you. “What? You were expecting this?”

She shrugged, then reached out to nudge your shoulder. “Come back to bed?”

“I—” The lump that was in your throat rolled higher to the point where it was beginning to choke you out. “Why—”

Ellie paused, lingering by the door and saying nothing.

“You’re coming with me,” you announced once you’d gathered your words. “I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

“Let’s not do this out here,” Ellie said. She appeared so passive and undisturbed that it made you want to scream. “It’s so early. We’ll talk about it when we’ve slept more, okay?”

You stood, your feet glued to the rickety floorboards of Joel’s porch as you calculated. As if you could just go to sleep after all of this.

“You can just stand out here too if you’d like,” Ellie finally said. “But I’d like to take advantage of what time we have left. Is that okay?”

What time we have left. Like a future where she was still in your life was such high fantasy that she wouldn’t even entertain it.

“Right,” you said. Your voice nearly broke. “Let’s—let’s do that.”

You did not sleep. Instead, you watched the sunlight slowly fill the room, catching on the objects and trinkets that littered her desk and walls that you’d never gotten to see outside of the dark of the night. Instead, you thought about how jealous you were of the posters on her walls and the figurines on her dresser, granted the blessing of actual permanence in Ellie’s world—a gift that had always been denied to you.

You harbored a suspicion that Ellie was also awake. You could feel her blink against your neck.

The day began with the subtlety of an anvil falling from the sky. The moment the clock struck 8, there was yelling and audible bustling in the streets as Jackson discovered the notices that had been dropped from the sky hours before.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Ellie? You up?”

She sat up, sending you an apologetic look as she ran a hand through her hair to smooth it. “Yeah.”

Before you could process what was happening, the door creaked open to reveal a fully dressed Joel, holding one of the envelopes in his hand.

Upon seeing you in her bed, he blinked once, hard. A shock of fear ran through you before you remembered you weren’t at home.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “I didn’t realize you were in here, Y/N. I would’ve come back later.”

“It’s fine, Joel,” said Ellie, her face a crimson red.

He coughed awkwardly. “Well, anyway. Y/N, I’ve got some good news for you. Looks like they’ve located you.”

“I, uh, heard,” you said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ve been looking over the coordinates,” he said, holding up the paper and squinting in the morning light. “It looks like this just a week or so up north. Short jaunt. Not too dangerous, from what Tommy says. One of us can take ya. We’ve got plenty of time from now until the pickup date to prepare.”

“Thank you.” Your voice wavered, and your eyes searched for Ellie’s. She was staring down at her sheets.

Joel bid his goodbyes and told Ellie he’d need her in the afternoon, then shut the door softly behind him.

You turned to her. “Can we talk about—”

“No.”

“Please.” Your fingers curled around her wrist as you angled your face into her line of sight. “Can we at least talk about it?”

Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. “Talk about what? I have a home here, Y/N. I can’t leave. I have Joel, and Dina, and Tommy, and…” She swallowed, pulling away from your grip. “I’m not like you. I can’t live in a place like Terranova. I wouldn’t fit in.”

“I’ll take anyone you want with us,” you promised her, moving to cup her face in your hands. Her eyes were resigned as they met yours. “And you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Trying this hard,” Ellie elaborated. “You’ve only known me for—what—3 months? And you’re going about this like it’s normal to expect me to uproot myself from where I live? This may just be an inconsequential random snippet of your life to you, but Jackson is my home. Leaving it isn’t so easy for me.”

“I never said leaving is easy.” You were dangerously close to breaking down. “I don’t want to leave you. Don’t you understand?”

“You’re going to be fine without me.” Ellie’s voice was sour.

“But the thing is that I won’t be,” you retorted, ignoring how your voice cracked. “You asked me last night how long it would take me to forget you. The answer is that I won’t. I’m never going to forget you, and I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel quite like you do. Maybe you don’t feel the same way. That’s fine. But can you fault me for at least trying to save the one thing in my life that I want? The one thing in my life I chose for myself?”

When she didn’t respond, you continued.

“I am so, so tired of letting life happen to me,” you said, your throat dry. “I have lived 20 years of my life making myself convenient. I did everything right. I went to the right schools. I got the right grades. I hung out with the right people. But nothing has ever made me feel more alive than you. So I would like to at least attempt to keep you.”

There. You’d said it. Out of anything else to say, you slowly retracted your hands, letting your fingers slip through that fabric of her shirt that you’d been gripping.

“I am not a thing.” The words fell heavily out of her mouth. She wouldn’t look at you. “Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? This is where I belong. You can’t just expect people to follow you around because you want them to.”

“That’s not—” Your voice broke. The hurt in your chest was so acute that you’d take being shot with an arrow over it any day. You sucked in another breath and tried again.”That’s—not what I want you to do. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you saw me that way.”

You were so stupid. So, so stupid. She let you sleep in her bed once, and that was enough to convince you that she would drop her entire life here to come stay with you. Of course she didn’t see you like that.

But you were upset, so you decided to add the nail in your coffin.

“Would it be so bad if I stayed?”

Ellie let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her fingers. It occurred to you that maybe you were annoying her. Maybe she wanted you to leave.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said flatly. “You’re going back.”

“What if I didn’t?”

“You promised.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Ellie blinked hard, then set her jaw before meeting your eyes with startling intensity. “Listen,” she said, her voice harsh, “You do know that you’re just a guest, right?”

“What?”

“You’re a guest,” she repeated, her tone clipped. She continued to stare into you. “You do realize that you’re living in a house that isn’t yours, right? You’re eating food that’s paid for by work shifts that you’re barely equipped to do?”

You furiously swept away the tears brimming on the edge of your eye socket as the gravity of her words finally sunk in.

A guest.

That’s all you’d been.

“This has been a very enlightening conversation.” You pushed off from her bed, throwing the blankets off and straightening out your clothes while you avoided looking at her. If you did, you’d see that look of conviction in her eyes—the one that told you that she meant every word she said.

You stopped at the door, flexing your fingers on the knob as you turned back in her general direction, staring at the floorboards near her feet.

“Thank you for being honest.” Your voice cracked over the final syllables, crunching in your throat and sounding profoundly pathetic.

You were gone before she could say anything else.

Ellie didn’t knock on your door after that. In fact, you hardly ever saw her apart from the occasional blur in the kitchen, her hair thrown haphazardly into a half-bun and her backpack slung over one shoulder as she prepared to leave for whatever work she had to do.

The few times you ever were next to her were when Dina invited you along to get-togethers with her and her friends. Ellie was late once and the only empty seat was next to you. She lingered by the doorway, her few seconds of pause making your chest tighten.

“Sit down, Ellie,” Dina said, snorting and rolling her eyes.

She sat down with so much space between you two left that it was all you could do to not stare at the expanse of vacant fabric. It was funny how something so simple could be so glaringly offensive.

From the corner of your eye, you watched her fingers flex and toy with themselves in a way you’d come to recognize as one of her nervous habits. You yearned to reach out and fold your hands over hers like you would have done just a week or so ago, but you forced that feeling down with all the self-control you could muster.

After everyone else had left, Dina stopped you.

“Did something happen between you and Ellie?” Dina asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “I noticed that you guys don’t hang out together anymore.”

Your mouth opened. There was so much that you wanted to tell her, so much that you’d held back. When you saw the kindness deep in her liquid brown eyes, you couldn’t help yourself. You burst into tears.

“Oh, Y/N.” Her voice was soft as she led you back to the couch, draping an arm around you and letting you get snot all over her shoulder. “What happened?”

And so you told her, albeit with the occasional hiccuped or sniffled interruption as you tried to gather yourself up. Dina’s hand ran up and down your arm in a motion so comforting that if you thought too hard about it you were going to just start crying harder.

“Ellie’s an asshole sometimes,” she said finally. “I think—I think this is a shitty situation for everyone.”

“It doesn’t seem particularly shitty for her,” you said, sniffling loudly. “She doesn’t even seem to care.”

Dina sent you a look. “This is what Ellie does when she cares. She’s just really fucking weird like that. It’s, like,—do you have stray animals in Terranova?”

You shook your head miserably. “No.”

“Of course you don’t. Well,” she continued, “They’re normally very complicated little things. They want love but don’t know how to ask for it. And when they get it, sometimes they don’t know what to do with it.”

“Ellie doesn’t love me. She’s made it very clear what she thinks about me.”

“If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be going around sulking all day,” Dina pointed out, reaching around to tug a lock of your hair in emphasis. “Don’t let this hurt you. She just doesn’t know how to handle this.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you said. You pulled your knees up to your chest. “She avoids me as much as she can. And even if I managed to catch her, I don’t know if I could handle what she’d say to me.”

Dina sighed, leaning into you. “I’ll talk to Joel. He’s the only one I know who can talk some sense into her.”

Jackson was steadily warming. You’d never seen so much sun before in your life—not even in the peak of the Terranovan summers. It was a cruel contrast to the numbness that was steadily spreading within you, the numbness that grew whenever you saw Ellie and it hit you that you were nearing your last few interactions with her.

That night, Joel had officially told you that you were leaving in a week to make the date that the Terranovan contacts had set. You’d decided to go on a walk after, unable to stay still in your room while you heard the familiar creaks and bumps from Ellie’s room.

As you walked onto the porch, you heard Joel’s southern drawl say something hushed to Ellie. You paused at the front door, wondering if you’d be able to catch it, but Joel remained silent. There was a tension that hung in the air, as if they were waiting for the door to fully shut behind you. You took the hint and let it fall closed.

The gravel crunched under your feet as you walked, feeling the early summer breeze waft across your skin. It was just warm enough to be comfortable. When you were back home in just a few weeks, you were going to have to get used to the constant rain and chill that battered Terranova until July.

You were going to have to get used to a lot of things, actually. But it was probably best not to think about that now.

There was nothing left of the sun beyond the slimmest line of cerulean resting on the peaks of the mountains in the distance by the time you reached where you were headed. It was an empty meadow, originally intended for extra horse paddocks that no one had ever gotten around to building. You’d discovered it one night in April when you and Ellie had been walking back from Dina’s, admiring the night sky and talking about nothing to each other.

It was the only place within the walls where the grass was clean and dry enough to lie back and stare up at the night sky. So, here you were, sprawled out in the greenery and watching the universe unfold and brighten above you.

You’d spent so many years of your life staring at textbook photos and fantasizing about what it must’ve been like to gaze up at the stars without the haze of light pollution. Terranova was so compact that you’d be lucky to look up and see any stars, even in the height of winter.

There was an observatory that was set up near the outer border, but even that wasn’t far away enough to escape the city lights. No one (well, now it was almost no one) had the clearance to leave the walls. Astronomers who had come before the time of the outbreak now had to settle for their tiny sliver of the sky, instead passing on their stories of beautiful starry nights in Africa and other foreign lands that you’d never get to see.

Here, though, you were able to see beyond what you could ever imagine. Alongside the dazzling brightness of every star within sight were the colorful wisps of the Milky Way, threading in and around the billions of twinkling suns. It was an explosion of light that brimmed with possibility. Maybe there was a world out there just like this one. There had to be—with trillions or gazillions of solar systems just like our own, you were probably looking in the general direction of a planet just as populated and industrialized as yours.

It hit you then like a ton of bricks—you would never see this again.

Something rustled behind you, but you stayed put, letting your weight sink into the ground and feeling the coolness of the Earth against you.

The rustling continued, passing your ear.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a pair of familiar ragged black converses by your feet.

Ellie laid down close enough that you could feel the waves of heat coming off of her bare arm, but not so near as to touch you.

There was so much that you wanted to say, but nothing came out. All you could do was stare up at the sky, wondering if she was doing the same or looking at you.

There was a nudge at the edge of your hand, tentative at first before Ellie fully slid hers under yours, entwining your fingers and tightly squeezing. It felt suspiciously like an apology.

You sent a pulse back. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as her thumb began to gently trace the skin on the back of your hand, back and forth.

The clammy coolness of Ellie’s hand faded into warmth as you two sat there without a word, letting the heavy silence speak for itself. The line on the horizon faded to black, leaving nothing but the moonlight to wash over you.

There were so many things you wanted to say to her. You wanted to apologize, to tell her you never meant to impose. You wanted her to know that you didn’t expect her to give up her whole life for you. But the weight of the quiet hanging between you two felt far too massive to shake off.

An arc of white streaked across the sky, its tail long and dazzling before it vanished.

“Shooting star!” you exclaimed, jutting your free hand up to the heavens and temporarily forgetting your speechlessness. You’d never seen one before, despite your many years of studying the meteor showers and examining the geological composition of meteorites.

“Do you not have those back home?”

“No,” you said. Now you felt a little embarrassed about how the first thing that you said to her was about the star, not about any of the other pressing issues. “Too much light pollution.”

“That sucks,” mused Ellie, her voice oddly casual. “That’ll be an adjustment for me.”

You froze. “What?”

“I said,” repeated Ellie, “That’ll be an adjustment for me. When I come with you.”

The jolt of shock that shot through you stole your breath, leaving you to just stare at her while her words sunk in.

Her gaze shifted from the sky to you. The ghost of a familiar smirk pulled at the corners of her lips, but something was missing.

“You’re joking.”

She shrugged. “Only if you want me to be.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t need to ask me. I’ve decided.”

“You’re sure?”

There was a sheen in her eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “Positive.”

“Oh my god!” You threw yourself at her, laughter spilling from you as you buried your face in her neck.

Ellie didn’t say anything. She just threaded her fingers through your hair, an arm coming to rest around your waist.

“I’m sorry for everything I said to you,” she said, her breath tickling your ear.

“That’s okay.” You sat up, leaning over her as your fingertips traced the curve of her jaw. Being allowed to touch her again after wanting it so badly for weeks felt unreal. “I just missed you.”

She smiled up at you, but her eyes were sad. “I’ve missed you, too.”

It made sense that she wasn’t completely elated, you reasoned as you reveled in the feel of your skin dragging across hers. She was going to have to say goodbye to so much—even the stars.

“I told you that Joel can come along,” you reminded. “And Tommy. And Maria. Whoever you’d like.”

“I think they’re set on staying here,” Ellie said, sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

You dipped your head down, pressing your lips to hers. It was a light brush, but it was enough to send your head spinning after not touching her for so long.

“It’s worth it,” she added.

Your heart swelled, and you were overwhelmed with the desire to freeze the moment as it was and live in it forever. Everything was perfect—the gentle weight of the summer breeze, the light chattering of the crickets and croaks of the frogs in the nearby creek, the way her lips felt against yours, the sky that stretched out infinitely above you. Everything, especially Ellie.

After the night in the meadow, things shifted. Ellie was no longer just publicly interacting with you when forced and keeping all intimacy confined to the hours after 10, but instead finding every excuse to kiss you and touch you, regardless of the context.

It felt almost sinful how abundant Ellie’s affection was now after it had been withheld for so long. The intimidating and distant side of hers crumpled before your eyes, leaving in its wake the remains of a girl who was scared and desperate for affection.

You slept in her room now. That had been a development that you hadn’t expected, but after you two had walked in from the meadow, her hand wrapped around your wrist as you made to go to your room. You hadn’t been back to your bed since.

Ellie was an extraordinarily clingy sleeper, even when the heat outside was mounting. You’d wake up in the middle of the night feeling her cold hands stuck under your shirt, her hair occasionally in your mouth when she burrowed her face into your neck.

When she woke up with a jolt, mumbling something about a nightmare and clammy with a sheen of sweat, she’d let you play with her hair and tell her stories of your life before Jackson.

She would eventually drift, her breath hot against your skin as you sat and watched the stress lines disappear from her face.

On nights that were especially bad, she’d babble to you about her experiences with Joel. That’s when you learned about David—about what really happened the day that she saw a stalker the first time. You’d been stunned into silence, blinking at her as you tried to process what she’d just told you.

Fourteen. She’d been a child when that’d happened.

The more you learned about Ellie’s life, the more you wanted to wrap her up in bubble wrap and never let her go outside again. What you’d once seen as bravery and an inherent toughness revealed itself to be the result of a gruesome and abhorrent process, of a collection of events that could have easily stripped away her humanity.

But she had saved you. And not only that, she was coming with you. She was giving up everything for you.

Something nagged at you as the day for your departure grew nearer, something that told you that she would get cold feet when it came down to packing up and actually leaving Jackson. But she’d promised you. She’d sworn that she’d come with you.

So there was nothing to worry about.

A spring shower accompanied you in your walk down to Dina’s house, appropriately dampening your hair so that it was about the same wetness as your eyes that brimmed with tears.

You were leaving in two days. This was going to be your goodbye to her.

In some ways, you couldn’t help but feel guilty the way you’d spent significantly less time with her ever since you’d made up with Ellie. At the time, it had just happened. The elation of being in Ellie’s good graces had clouded over the thought of seeing anyone else, Dina or otherwise. Now the fact that you would never see her again was slowly sinking in, coupled with the dread of leaving everything you’d known for the past season.

You mulled over your thoughts as you knocked on her door, wiping your eyes so as to not embarrass yourself. If Dina saw that you were crying, then she’d say something really sweet and comforting, and then you’d be reduced into a sniffling mess within minutes.

You had to pretend that you were fine for at least the first few minutes. You could give yourself that.

Nothing but silence greeted you on the other side of the door. You frowned. Dina was off in the morning; you’d been sure to check. Was she mad at you?

The following knocks at her door continued to go unanswered, and worry started to rise in your throat. Maybe she was mad at you. It had been pretty shitty, disappearing off to hang out with your sort-of-girlfriend when Dina was the one you’d be ultimately leaving.

“Dina?” you called out as a last ditch attempt. “You there?”

There was a shuffling sound from inside the house—quiet, but there. “Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah! It’s me!” You couldn’t quite read her tone yet, but she didn’t sound like the care-free, happy Dina that you’d come to be familiar with. Something was wrong.

“Just come in!”

She’d never not been there to answer the door. Dread began to build within you.

The door groaned as you turned the doorknob and pushed it in, revealing Dina’s dimly lit sitting room. The overhead light was off, the curtains were drawn tight, and just one flickering candle in the middle put off any light.

And there was Dina, crouched on the couch, knees up to her chest and tucked under her chin.

“Are you okay?!” You shut the door behind you and rushed to her side, the old couch wobbling as the cushion adjusted to your weight.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” said Dina, wiping the tear streaks away from her cheek with her palm. “I’m sorry. I was planning on doing a fun going-away thing for you and Ellie. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“What happened?” you asked, bringing up a hand to rest on her shoulder.

Dina stayed quiet, instead burying her face into her knees and letting out a rattling sigh.

“Is it because Ellie’s leaving?”

She laughed then, a short, disbelieving chuckle. “No,” she said, sniffling. “It’s not Ellie.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m—oh, God, I can’t say it.”

“You can tell me anything, you know,” you said gently, your hand moving to rub circles into her shoulder. “I’m not going to judge you. Or tell anyone else, either. Not even Ellie.”

“I’m…” She took in one breath, then shut her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Your heart skipped. In all of your worries about the apocalypse, you’d forgotten that comparatively trivial issues like teen pregnancy existed.

“Pregnant?” you repeated.

“Yes.” Dina furiously swiped at her face. “Pregnant. Fucking—fucking pregnant, and I’m not even with Jesse anymore. It’s bullshit, all of it. I didn’t think I—I was so careful—”

“And you’re totally sure?” you asked, trying to school your features into something that didn’t resemble absolute horror and failing abysmally. “Like, is it possible that you’re just late or something?”

She shook her head, hiccuping once. “No. I’ve missed two now. I thought the first one was just because I was stressed. Then the second happened, and I took a pregnancy test that I’d snagged, mostly for jokes, from one of the pharmacies I passed during a patrol.”

“And it came back positive?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you don’t need to worry about it yet.” Despite the content of your words, hysteria was rising in your voice. “Maybe it’s expired. They do that, don’t they? That thing has to be—what—almost 30 years old? Maybe it’s faulty.”

“I know that I’m pregnant,” Dina said firmly. “I don’t know how else to put it. I just know I do. Something’s not right. I’m tired all of the time. I don’t get periods, but I’m spotting. I’m just not myself anymore. I’ve never felt like this.”

You swallowed. Pregnancy was something that you had always mentally earmarked as a problem for your older self. The thought of growing a human being inside of you and then pushing it out chilled you to the bone, and that was even with the knowledge that if you ever fell pregnant you’d be giving birth with an epidural and the help of trained medical professionals.

Out here, though? There was none of that.

“I know this is stupid,” Dina began, her voice raspy, “But I’m so, so scared. I’ve fought hordes of infected and killed people, but the thought of having to go through this is too much. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Has anyone here given birth before?” you asked, thinking for a moment before adding to your question. “...Successfully?”

“Maria. Once. And a few unsuccessful attempts. One of my old patrol buddies Wryn…she wasn’t so lucky.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the horror on your face was sufficiently hidden. “Um—do you know how your mother was when she had you? That’s a good indicator, right?”

Dina sent you a watery smile. “Uh, that’s the thing. She didn’t make it.”

Your heart thudded harder in your chest as her smile melted away and she choked out another sob, dropping her head onto her knees. She looked so impossibly small and frail. It was difficult to reconcile the image with the Dina you were most familiar with, the one that was larger than life and wasn’t afraid of anything.

“What if you came with me?” you heard your voice say.

Her eyes snapped up to yours. “What?”

“Come with me,” you said, doctoring your words to sound more commanding. “I’ll take you with me and Ellie. We’re leaving in just a few days. You’ll be safe. Your baby will be safe. You’ll survive. You’ll have the best doctors alive in the world—I’ll make sure of it.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” she said. Her arm came up to swipe under her nose, and you could see the dark marks from the previous snot on the faded maroon fabric. “That’s—no. I can’t.”

“I’m telling you that I’ll take you. I don’t need you to ask me. I want you to live, Dina. I want you to have a good life. I’ve told you how it is there, right? How nice everything is? How everything’s at your fingertips? That can be yours.”

“How do you even know they’ll let you bring guests?”

“Because they know my family,” you said. “If I say that I’m not coming home without you and Ellie, then they’ll take you.”

“Oh, so you’re some big shot?”

“Sort of.”

“Right.” Dina laughed dryly, throwing her hands up. “Why the fuck not. I’m going to Terranova.”

“Do you believe in aliens?”

Ellie’s voice cut through the crickets and frog song in the night air. You two were lying down in the meadow, soaking in the last few hours you had left.

“Of course,” you said, turning to face her.

“What do you mean, of course?” she said, a mocking lilt in her voice as she mimicked you.

“I mean that of course there’s aliens out there,” you elaborated. “How could there not be?”

“Why, have you met one?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Obviously not. It’s just—I dunno, it’s an academically accepted hypothesis that there likely is. The universe is so big.”

Ellie was quiet for a few beats before she spoke up again. “It is?”

“Yeah.”

“None of my books ever said anything about that.”

“They wouldn’t have,” you said, a weight settling into your chest. “That was decided after the outbreak occurred.”

When she stayed silent, you elaborated.

“You know that book that I brought? The one about exoplanets?”

“Of course.”

“We think that most stars out there have exoplanets,” you explained, reaching your hand up into the sky, letting your fingers trace over the familiar constellations. “We’re not sure how likely it is to find one with Earth-like conditions, but there’s so many stars with so many possible solar systems that there has to be something out there.”

“That’s so fucking cool.” The rare display of Ellie’s enthusiasm made you crack a grin.

“Right? And when you come back with me, you can study with me. I can get you enrolled in the university. We can go out to the observatory and you can use a real telescope to look at the stars.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie, though she sounded a little more distant now.

You knew you were getting carried away, letting all the fantasies that had been rattling around in your brain come flying off your tongue, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Ellie was coming with you.

You still weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You didn’t understand how she was so okay with it—how she didn’t even need you to ask her to come after she’d said no the first time. The fact that she was so willing to give up everything for you was so heartwarming that it moved you to tears.

No matter how you tried to look at it, you couldn’t quite come to terms with what had driven her to come with you and leave everything behind, even Joel. How Joel was even letting her go was yet another mystery, but as long as you had her, then what did that matter?

That night, after you two had finished stargazing in the meadow, Ellie had held you tighter than ever in her bed, pressing her to you like she thought you were going to run away.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, voice muffled from where your face was pressed into her shoulder.

“I’m just cold,” Ellie complained. She reached down to pull the comforter up to cover you both in emphasis, letting her hands slide under your shirt and rest between your shoulder blades.

“Are you nervous about leaving?”

“A little. You?”

“No,” you said honestly, lifting your head from her chest to meet her gaze with soft eyes. “Not since you agreed to come.”

Her lips pulled into a tight smile before she leaned forward, dropping a kiss onto the tip of your nose.

In your dream, you and Ellie were in your dorm. You explained the meaning of your posters and let her borrow your books.

In your dream, you rambled on about the Hubble space telescope and the life cycle of stars. You pointed to your posters, letting the pads of your fingers catch on on the rough edges of the canvas. When you turned back, Ellie was gone. You’d been rambling to yourself, you realized. Ellie wasn’t there. She’d never been there. All the books you remembered pulling off your shelf to place in her waiting hands were still there, a thin layer of dust on their spines from the neglect your absence had caused.

You awoke in a cold sweat to find that the bed was empty. There was no warmth on the other side that would suggest that Ellie had been there at all.

Sunlight spilled into the room at an angle that suggested it was barely dawn, dust particles dancing in its beam. The light stopped before it reached your backpack, stuffed full with the things you were taking home.

Home. You were going home.

Instead of the relief you were expecting, you felt nothing but acute dread. Maybe you were just tired, you reasoned. It was normal to feel sad that you weren’t going to be seeing the same people that had welcomed you in with open arms for months on end. It was normal for a budding astrophysicist to miss the night sky and the clean air.

The sun had slowly crept up to swallow more of Ellie’s room while you had thought. Though you and Ellie hadn’t specified an exact hour for leaving, it was getting pretty late in the morning. It was time to go.

After you’d dressed and slung your backpack over your shoulder, you took one last look over your shoulder into Ellie’s room. You’d made the bed, of course, but you could still see the divets at the end of the bed where you two had sat on her comforter the night prior.

Ellie had surprisingly left many things, apparently internalizing your stories about Terranova and its abundance of…everything. It was strange, though. All of the classic Ellie items that you’d come to associate with her—the joke book, the broken Walkman, the comic books—were left just as they always were, stacked on her dresser like she was planning on cracking open one of her comic books later.

A sound in the kitchen shook you out of it, reminding you that you were probably holding everyone up.

Joel was in the kitchen with Ellie, handing her a bundle of what you could only assume to be ammo as she rummaged through her backpack.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said casually. “Feeling ready?”

It was strange to see how nonchalant he was acting at the prospect of sending off his adopted daughter forever.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling at him. “Sure you don’t want to come? You’re going to run out of my coffee soon.”

He laughed. “I like it here in Jackson just fine. But thanks, kiddo.”

The dread in your chest grew. Why wasn’t he more upset? Had you overestimated the closeness of their relationship? Was Joel just exceptionally talented at hiding his emotions and being stoic?

That wasn’t true. You knew that that wasn’t true, given that you’d seen him mope around for an entire day before Ellie indulged you and explained that it was the anniversary of his daughter’s—his biological daughter—death. He clearly knew what it was like to experience loss. So why was he so ready to give up Ellie?

Was she even going to come?

That was ridiculous, you thought, scolding yourself. Of course she was going to come. She was packing her bag right in front of you.

As if you’d willed it into existence, Ellie turned around and smiled. “Hey. Sorry for not waking you up. You were out cold.”

“It’s okay,” you said, your cheeks growing steadily pinker. You’d need to remind Ellie that she couldn’t say things like that once she met your family. The implications that you two shared a bed without it being explicitly necessary would be…troubling, to say the least.

Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to pay it any mind, instead fussing with the straps of her bag.

“You sure these things are comfortable?” he said, turning to Ellie. “It looks like the fasteners are loose.”

“I’ve never noticed,” said Ellie flatly.

You lingered in the space between the counter and the door, awkwardly silent as you tried to figure out what to do. Ellie and Joel were acting really weird, and you couldn’t figure out why. Maybe this was how people in the apocalypse did it—they just avoided saying goodbyes.

Why wouldn’t Joel want to come?

“I’ll go check on Dina,” you said, your cheeks still hot as you stepped back through the door.

Joel and Ellie’s heads lifted.

“Bring her over,” said Joel in response. “We’ll be ready by the time you get back.”

Jackson was bustling as you made your way down the street. You waved to the few schoolchildren you’d been introduced to by Dina and accepted a hug from Bonnie, who was profoundly sad to see you go.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, sniffing as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand without shame. “It really fucking sucks that you have to go home, you know? It was fun patrolling with you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Have you said goodbye to Ellie and Dina yet?”

“No,” Bonnie said, her voice wavering. A sheepish look spread on her features. “I’m always bad at saying goodbyes.”

“That’s okay. We’re not leaving until Ellie’s all packed, so you have a bit if you’d like to stop by before.”

“I’ll try,” said Bonnie, touching your elbow and stopping away. “But if I don’t see you again, be safe, alright?”

Dina was sitting on the steps of her front steps, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she contorted over to tighten her laces.

“Hey you,” you said. It was the first time you’d spoken to someone without feeling profoundly guilty for leaving. Ellie was being ripped from her family. The friends you’d made here were being left behind. Joel was losing a daughter. But Dina? Dina was being promised a life of safety.

You could be happy without feeling bad about it with Dina.

“Hey yourself,” she echoed, tilting her head up to grin at you. “Feeling ready?”

“Barely,” you admitted, joining her on the middle step. “I’m scared shitless. Just going on patrol is scary enough. What if we get jumped?”

“We probably will.”

“Dina!”

She shrugged, giving you a devilish look. “I’m just being honest. But you’ve got me and you’ve got Ellie. Together we’re very scary.”

“Terrifying,” you said gravely, nodding.

“You’ve gotten such an attitude,” said Dina. “Ellie’s rubbing off on you.”

“I wasn’t kidding!” you said, slapping her shoulder.

She grinned back at you, and you felt a rush of gratitude so strong that it nearly moved you to tears.

“I’m ready to go,” she said, sitting up and reaching for her pack behind her. “You?”

“I’m ready too,” you said. “Joel told me to come get you and bring you over. I think they’re almost all prepped too.”

“Exciting,” said Dina, wiggling her fingers at you. “Baby’s first adventure.”

You rolled your eyes. “Baby’s last adventure. Hopefully we’ll never need to go traipsing about the woods again.”

“Are there even any woods where we’re heading?”

The gravel crunched under your feet as you and Dina retraced your path back to Joel’s. “Nowhere near where we’ll be. It’s woodsy near the borders, but no one ever goes there.”

“It’s going to be weird to live in a city.”

“You’ll get used to it. It’s nice, really. Anything you’ll ever need is within a block of you,” you told her. “Every fruit and vegetable you can imagine is a short walk away. The first thing I’m doing once I’m back is buying an orange. I miss those.”

“An orange?” Dina’s face was shocked. “Oranges? How do you even grow that stuff?”

You shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I know it can’t be grown in Terranova. It’s way too cold to be doing that. I think they must be imported from somewhere.”

“How could that be?” Dina asked.

“I have no idea.”

Joel and Ellie were on the porch by the time you two reached their home, with Joel resting a hand on her shoulder as he said something into her ear, too low for you to hear.

Ellie nodded, the bun that gathered the top of her hair bobbing. Then she turned to you.

For a moment, you thought she might tell you that she was staying. But then she bounded down the stairs to you, a smile on her lips as her backpack thudded once against her back.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing hard.

“You’ll be fine,” Ellie said, giving your shoulder an affectionate shove. “Have you said your goodbyes already? We should really head out.”

You had said almost all of your goodbyes—but there was still one left.

“Joel,” you said, a lump forming in your throat as you ascended the steps toward him and threw your arms around his shoulders.

He was stiff, awkwardly patting your back, but when you pulled away you could see that he was smiling.

“You’ve been so kind to me,” you began. “I can’t even begin to thank you enough. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kiddo,” he said, affectionately tousling your hair. “Don’t die out there, okay? And think of me whenever you’re buying coffee.”

“I will,” you promised, no longer caring about the mistiness in your eyes. “I’ll look after Ellie, too.”

Something flitted past his face before he schooled it into a mask of indifference. “Right. You three better be off, alright? Don’t want it getting dark before you’ve got a good head start.”

And that was the last thing Joel said to you before sending you all off. He had the good graces to linger on the porch, though, waving at you as you made your way alongside Ellie and Dina past the gates.

Traveling was more boring than you expected. Each morning was the same—wake up, eat whatever rations Ellie had packed in her bag, and boil enough water from the stream to fill all of your water bottles.

The actual going wasn’t much more exciting. Where you were headed was so desolate that there were hardly any infected, Ellie explained to you. Any of the few infected that had the misfortune of stumbling across you were made quick work of by Ellie and her knives.

Ellie was always tetchy about letting you take over watch as she and Dina slept. She’d sidle up to you in your sleeping bag and rest her head on your shoulder, but you could tell that she was fighting to stay awake in case there was any trouble.

When she did sleep, it was fitful. She’d murmur and thrash around, making you bite your lip more than once to keep yourself from yelping and startling her and Dina awake when she’d accidentally kick you.

And when she was awake, she wasn’t much more affectionate. Maybe it was because Dina was there and she was embarrassed to be touchy, you rationalized, but it still stung when she’d only briefly peck your lips or brush her mouth across your forehead when you were nearby, like she was just doing it mechanically.

On the sixth day—one day before you were due to be at the pickup point—things finally ramped up.

You awoke to find the sleeping bag cold, accompanied only by the soft sounds of Dina’s rhythmic breathing. The forest floor was cold against your hand—it had been unconsciously flung out onto the bed of pine next to you in your sleep. Dew had collected on it, making your hand damp as you pulled it in to inspect it.

The sun was barely beginning to peek over the horizon, sending a few golden rays through the trees and illuminating just the tops of the trees above you.

Ellie was nowhere to be seen.

“Ellie!” you hissed, sitting up and looking around frantically. To your horror, you discovered that her pack was missing, along with her shoes and the jacket she’d hung over the tree branches next to the clearing you were sleeping in.

It was like she’d never been there.

“Ellie!” you said again, louder this time.

Nothing. Just a few nervous titters from the birds in the underbrush, startled into taking flight to higher ground. Stupid, stupid you. If anything was out here, you’d just revealed where you were. Hopefully you were still far enough out from any civilization that there were no infected to hear. If you weren’t…

You gulped, reaching into your pack a few feet away to pull out the small gun Joel had given you. Dina was still out cold, snoring quietly to your side. She’d been getting weaker as her pregnancy progressed, given that she was almost a trimester along already. Between the two of you, you were stronger, which was not a very comforting thought to have. If she was a little more nourished, things might’ve been different. But given how severe Dina’s morning sickness had gotten, it was lucky for her to keep anything down.

It was all you. You had to be the protector, for the very first time. Without Ellie, there was no one else to save you.

A twig snapped somewhere behind you, and you whirled around. The cool metal of the gun bit into your hand as you held it up, dragging its tip across the span of the forest that you could see. There was nothing there—not yet.

Maybe it had been a squirrel.

Then you heard them—light footfalls. Human footsteps, clearly from someone who was trying to avoid branches and evade detection.

You willed your hands not to shake as you held your gun up again, feeling the adrenaline pulse through you with every heartbeat. The thick spring underbrush that had made you feel safe and concealed as you traveled through the forest was now something you resented, obscuring whatever was in the woods while letting it see perfectly well into your clearing.

A rustling came from your right, and you swung around to see a slightly bedraggled Ellie, holding the carcass of two rabbits.

“Fucking Christ!” she gasped upon seeing your gun. “Put that down! It’s just me!”

There was a twig sticking out from her hair.

“Sorry!” You let your gun fall, feeling suddenly very embarrassed. “I just—I woke up, and you were gone. I thought something had happened.”

“Sorry,” said Ellie, slinging the rabbits over her shoulder as she approached you. “We were running out of food. I set these snare traps last night and thought I’d check them while you two were still asleep. There’s nothing out here. I wouldn’t have left you if I thought otherwise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you said accusingly.

“I forgot to,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Then she knelt down and kissed you, her chapped lips rough against yours.

A retching sound startled both of you apart.

“Sorry,” said Dina, wiping her eyes after she’d dry heaved on the dirt next to her sleeping bag. “That wasn’t because of you guys. I love gay people.”

“Good morning,” you said, blushing. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she responded. She was looking terribly frail. “Did I miss anything?”

“You missed Y/N trying to kill me,” offered Ellie.

“She’s lying,” you told her. “Don’t listen.”

The rest of the morning went on without a hitch, with Ellie cleaning the rabbits and setting them over a small fire. It was strange that she’d gone through the trouble of getting two whole rabbits—you three were about to be picked up and Dina wasn’t eating anyway—but you supposed she just set as many snare traps as she could and didn’t want to leave any evidence of them being there.

Then, once you three had finally reached the coordinates and set up camp just as the sun was beginning to kiss the forest ridge, Ellie disappeared in the woods again, leaving you both at the edge of a large, flower-filled meadow.

“Why does she always do that?” you asked Dina, rolling out your sleeping bags and brushing off dirt.

Dina was sat on her roll, looking weaker than ever. You were more thankful than ever that the journey had almost come to an end. Though you were hoping that she was just having a difficult first trimester, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was something more serious.

“It’s Ellie.” Dina’s voice was tired, ragged. “She always does shit like this.”

“Hm,” you said, finishing with your sleeping bag and looking back at her. “Do you need help? Do you think you’re up to eating something?”

“No, and no,” she said, hanging her head between her knees miserably. “Even the thought of eating makes me want to puke.”

“Noted,” you said. “You should really try for some water, though.”

Dina let you help her take small sips from the bottle in your pack before shoo-ing you away. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “No need to fret over me like this.”

“Just think of the care you’re going to get tomorrow,” you told her, reaching up to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear. “They’ll probably hook you up to an IV. You’ll feel better than ever.”

Dina sent you a weak smile, but before she could answer, a shot rang off in the distance and cut her off.

“Shit,” you said, reaching for your pack.

Another shot. Then another, closer this time.

It was unmistakably from the direction that Ellie had gone.

Both you and Dina kept your guns trained firmly on the patch of the woods that Ellie had disappeared into, hearing nothing but the sound of your breathing. Even the birds had gone quiet, scared into silence from the loud noise.

One more shot rang out before the sound was replaced by crashing in an underbrush.

Ellie appeared in the meadow, gun drawn and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Ellie!” You momentarily forgot your fear of being jumped by something in the woods and rushed towards her.

She was covered in blood and reeked of that sickeningly sweet stench that could only come from someone infected with Cordyceps. It took you a few agonizing seconds to realize that the blood wasn’t hers—just splatters from whoever was on the other end of her gun.

“What happened?” you asked, eyes wide.

Ellie holstered her gun. Then she swallowed. “I was setting another snare and got jumped. Apparently there were a few by the creek—probably carried in from a town by the current. It’s fine. I took care of them.”

“You don’t look fine,” said Dina from behind you. “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same for you.”

That shut Dina up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Your fingers danced across the planes of her face, checking to see if there were any wounds. You didn’t understand why she’d set a snare when you were all getting picked up in less than 24 hours and already had enough food, but you decided to save that line of questioning for another time.

“I’m fine,” she promised. “They didn’t get me.”

Satisfied, you returned to your makeshift camp and helped Dina build a small fire to warm up the last of your rations. Ellie sat beside you on the sleeping bag, suspiciously quiet. Once all three of you had finished eating and the sun finally disappeared, Dina passed out cold, leaving you and Ellie.

“You really scared me today,” you said, your voice soft in an attempt to not stir Dina.

“I can handle myself.” Ellie reached up and affectionately tapped the top of your nose. “Don’t worry about me.”

You stared into her eyes, feeling a swell of affection so potent that you probably would’ve been forced to take a seat if you weren’t already. She still hadn’t cleaned off the speckles of blood on her face—probably because she hadn’t noticed. There were no mirrors in the woods.

“You have something” was all you said before you reached up to her face, pulling the sleeve of your shirt under your fingers so you could thumb away the droplets on her cheek. She graciously allowed it, not even flinching when you pressed too hard on her nose.

“Sorry,” you whispered guiltily.

You were sure she was going to make some sort of snarky comment in response, but to your surprise, she didn’t. She leaned forward and kissed you deeply instead, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and tilting your head.

It was a real kiss. She hadn’t really kissed you since you left Jackson.

Even after she pulled away, her touch lingered, her hands resting on your neck and in your hair. There was still a little blood on her, but the fire was quickly dying and without it one ill slip of the hand might result in poking her eye out, so you refrained and just joined her in the sleeping bag.

Ellie didn’t say anything for a while, instead just wrapping her arms around you and resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing was slow and even, and for a while you thought she’d actually fallen asleep.

Then she spoke. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you, too,” you said, the smile that spread across your lips entirely uncontrollable. You couldn’t remember the last time Ellie had so willingly offered such affectionate words unprompted.

You slept easily that night, listening to the sounds of Ellie breathing and tangling your fingers into her hair.

The next morning arrived quickly, and before you knew it, the sun was high in the sky and your trio was poised at the edge of the meadow, waiting anxiously.

For a moment, you genuinely wondered if Joel had been wrong—if the coordinates had been copied down incorrectly—if they had given up on retrieving you after all. As you and Dina and Ellie stood, there was nothing but the heavy blanket of silence weighing over your shoulders.

Not even the birds were singing.

That should’ve tipped you off, you realized. Not a second later after this revelation did the rattling chop chop chop of a helicopter’s wings begin to sound from the distance.

Dina gasped, her finger lifting as she pointed to the horizon. “Is that them?”

Crows leapt from the peaks of the forest, taking to the sky in troves as a black helicopter appeared over the treeline, small at first but growing quickly.

“Better hope they land quickly,” said Ellie gruffly. “Every infected in earshot is going to come sprinting once it lands.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to you, and you gulped at the prospect of having to outrun a horde just in the nick of time to leap onto the helicopter

But as the helicopter drew closer and began to descend, sending a strong gust of wind that gathered your hair and whipped it away from your face, fear wasn’t the only emotion flooding through you. It was accompanied by relief.

You’d made it. You’d traveled nearly a week in the wilderness to get here, and all of you came out in one piece, even with Dina’s rapidly declining state.

And all of you were coming to Terranova.

Maybe once it finally sunk in for Ellie that you were both safe, she’d finally go back to being more vulnerable with you.

The helicopter touched down roughly, nearly pitching to the side as it rocked on the uneven footing before it managed to steadily distribute its weight on its landing skids. After spending months away from home, the roar of the motor and the distinct smell of gasoline in the air felt foreign.

The door in its body opened up, halving the painted copy of the blue and white Terranovan flag as two men dressed in what you could only describe as military uniforms and carrying guns leapt out.

Guns? Why did they have guns?

“Y/N?” one of them yelled, holding the hand that wasn’t gripping his rifle to shield his eyes from the sun. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

There was something in the tone of his voice that tugged at the strings of your memory. He almost sounded like—

“Simon?” you called out, a grin splitting your face. “Is that you?”

Simon had been a classmate of yours in high school, a distant family friend. You hadn’t seen him since you moved onto university, though.

“Who are your friends?” he yelled back, though the blade was slowing down as the motor cut out and another soldier appeared behind him.

“Dina and Ellie,” you said. “They—they saved me. They’re going to stay with my family until we figure things out.”

It was difficult to see well with the blindingly bright sun, but you could just feel his disbelieving stare. One of his colleagues leaned over to him and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded, holstering his gun and reaching for something else on his belt.

“What are you doing?” you asked, nervousness building. You’d never really let yourself consider the possibility that they wouldn’t let Dina and Ellie in with you. With your parents being who they were to the founder, it was difficult to imagine them saying no to anything you asked, especially when Simon knew your family personally.

“Mandatory testing,” said Simon, waving a black contraption with a flashing screen that you’d never seen before. “If they pass, they can come.”

You audibly sighed in relief, letting out a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. In that moment, you could’ve hugged Simon.

They were coming.

You turned to Ellie, ready to celebrate the good news with her. She was already looking back, but she wasn’t smiling.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice unlike anything you’d ever heard from her mouth before. It was resigned, solemn. “I need to tell you something.”

There was a beep to your left, and you saw that the screen on the black stick had turned green upon touching Dina’s skin.

“Can it wait?” you asked, looking eagerly towards the testing tool. If Ellie’s prediction of all the infected in the area being drawn to the commotion was correct, you wanted out of there as soon as possible. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the ride there.”

“No,” she said shortly. “We need to talk now.”

Without paying any attention to the words exchanged, Simon stepped towards you and pressed the machine into the flesh of your forearm. It was cool and slightly damp. Within seconds, there was a flash of green as the display came alive.

“What can you possibly have to say to me now?” you asked, keeping your voice light despite the return of that nagging dread that something was terribly wrong.

Ellie opened her mouth, then shut it, casting her green eyes up to the sky and blinking rapidly. It could have just been the trick of the light, or maybe it was just sweat, but you could have sworn the droplet that Ellie swiped away quickly under her eye was a tear.

Simon moved onto Ellie, and after what looked like some deliberation on her part, she obediently let him lift her hand and press the tester into her skin.

“Spit it out. You’re making me nervous,” you said, your voice wavering as it weakly attempted to sound light-hearted, because she really was stressing you out.

Ellie met your eyes, her lips slightly parted as her eyebrows drew together. There was that look again—the one that you could never decipher. The one that almost looked like an apology.

The screen glowed red.

For a moment everything froze. Then someone who sounded like you screamed.

“She’s staying,” said Simon, stepping away from Ellie quickly. “Let’s load up.”

“No!” you cried, grabbing onto Ellie’s arm and holding tight. “She’s not infected. Something’s wrong with your scanner.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” said Simon. “She’s sick. We need to go before she turns.”

“She’s not!” you argued back, putting yourself in between Simon and Ellie. “I’ve been with her for the past week. If she’d been bit, I’d know it.”

A hand rested on your shoulder. “Y/N, you have to let me go. I’m sorry.”

You whipped around to stare at her, tears spilling from your eyes. Ellie was looking back at you, her face broken.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “I’m really sorry.”

“When?” you managed to choke out. “How?”

She just smiled sadly at you, her eyes flicking over your shoulder to look at the Terranovan authorities behind you before resting on you again. “You’ll be okay. Go on, alright?”

“You can’t be infected,” you tried again, but even as the words came out of your mouth you weren’t sure if they were true. You’d cleaned off Ellie after she’d told you about the run in she’d had the evening before, but you’d never asked to check her. It was totally possible that she’d been bit and you’d never known. “Not after—not after everything you’ve been through. You can’t.”

Then she stepped forward, drawing you into her arms and curling them around your sides. You buried your face into her neck, not caring about how hard you were crying now. She let you hang onto her, let your fingers twist in the fabric of her windbreaker.

“I lo—”

“Don’t,” she said hoarsely, finally dropping her arms and stepping away from you. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Simon wrapped a commanding hand around the flesh of your arm, tugging you away.

“I’m never going to forget you,” you rushed out, twisting in his grip as you tried to meet her eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

In response, Ellie raised a hand, waving to you as Simon dragged you up into the helicopter. There was no surprise on her face—just a sense of resignation that made you realize that she’d already prepared for this. Probably last night, when you were trying to sleep.

That’s what she’d wanted to tell you. She’d wanted to say goodbye.

Simon shut the door, yelling something to the man sitting in front of you in the cockpit. Dina wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side, whispering something that was probably meant to be comforting in your ear. But you couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t focus on anything but the Ellie-shaped shadow slowly fading into the backdrop as you took to the sky.

Before you knew it, that was gone too.

final a/n: after this we are out of the woods! i am so sorry again for making u all wait so long for something with this kind of cliffhanger. i sincerely wish that i had more time to work on this fic. i really want to get it finished before my semester ends in may tho so i can just work on original work after so i’ll try and churn out the next 2 parts + the epilogue!! thank you for reading as always!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst

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