#matthew the family man series

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 28]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k 🌶️

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Sometimes, Matt forgets what it feels like to be happy.

His life has been tragedy after tragedy, many of his own making, and more than once it had been overwhelming. He remembers all too well the feeling of gravel in his knees as he begged for Death to come to him. He will never stop having nightmares about choking on ash and dust as his world collapses around him. His hands will always have blood on them.

But when you smile at him - really, truly smile - all of those memories fade into the background. They get banished to who knows where and he’s enveloped in this lightness he can’t explain. Nothing else in the world matters to him but you. 

You, and how your hand goes up to try to hide your mouth, like you are too scared to let anyone see you have emotions.

You, and how breathy your voice gets when you are trying to not laugh. 

You, and how your heart has calmed from jack rabbiting everywhere from just being near him to the steady rhythm he daydreams about. 

You bring him this sense of peace he does not understand and all he wants in life is to do the same for you. 

Love does not begin to describe what he feels for you. 

He loved (loves) Elektra.

He loved (loves) Karen. 

He belongs to you - body, spirit, and mind.

He would deny God and worship only at your altar for the remainder of Eternity if you even gave the hint, you wanted as much. 

He would lay down his gloves and armor if that is what you wished for.

He would turn and walk away from Hell’s Kitchen if you led him elsewhere. 

In such a short time, your Light has wrapped itself around him and he oh so willingly let himself be consumed. You make him want to be Better.

He wants to be a Better person, a Better fighter, a Better protector, a Better lawyer, a Better friend, a Better lover, a Better father. He wants to be Better because only then - maybe - could he possibly deserve an ounce of what you give him. 

You have built so many walls around your heart that it scares him. He has a feeling you will never let him know why those walls are there or who so thoroughly broke you that you need them, but it does not matter to him. He understands, more than anyone, that they exist for a reason, and he is going to systematically tear through every single one. 

He doesn’t care how slowly and methodically he has to chip away at them. He is going to savor every victory, because it is one millimeter closer to you. 

Taking you out to dinner was something he was prepared to wait months for, but a unique opportunity presented itself and he decided it was worth the risk of you saying ‘no’.

But now you are sitting across from him, tucked into a corner of one of the most glamorous restaurants in the city, giggling into your palm while he tells you about one of his college adventures. 

“What happened next?” you ask in an excited whisper.

His lips turn up into a mischievous grin as he concludes his story, “We were locked out on the roof all night. We managed to flag someone down in the morning, but the damage was done. I took the fall - the poor blind man got turned around and went up the wrong staircase and his nice friend went looking for him, so they didn’t press any charges, but the professor tore us a new one. Foggy refused to drink red wine for at least ten years after.”

Your body sings with laughter and Matt feels himself puff up in Pride. Your disposition is night and day from earlier in the evening - you had been stiff, and he could literally taste the anxiety rolling off you in waves. You had been hunched in and quiet. It had been a task for him to delicately untangle your nerves, but he had accomplished his goal, and his reward was your hand on top of the table, just a breath away from his own. 

He is playing it slow, though.

As much as he wants to touch you - any part of you - he knows better than to push for anything. He’s asked so much of you tonight and he is not going to ruin it all by making you uncomfortable with a bold display of public affection such as hand holding. 

“You are lucky it wasn’t snowing,” you comment as you go for the last sip of your wine. “You could have frozen to death.”

He gives a nonchalant half shrug, “we are not above huddling together for warmth, and it isn’t like Foggy and I haven’t shared a bed before.” He pauses, then just to soothe any worry you might have, adds, “Plus, I would have gotten us back in long before then. The building was only four stories, so it would have been easy to scale down, break in, and go unlock the door without tipping Fog off. He was that drunk.”

You exhale through your nose in a way he knows you are making a cute little pouting face. “He didn’t know?”

There’s a hint of confusion and caution in the question and Matt decides he’ll never get over how carefully you tread around certain topics. The hesitancy leaves him the option to explain or dismiss and it is something he cherishes about you. 

The subject of his secrecy with his abilities with regards to his best friend isn’t something he likes to think about. It hurt both of them and the ripples of the aftermath can still be felt, but Matt won’t let that ache out, so he replies with the simple truth, “No one did.”

A soft hum escapes your throat, and he expects a follow up akin to ‘that must have been lonely’ or some other sentiment. So, of course, you go in a different direction. 

“I don’t think I could climb down the side of a building.”

He chuckles at your musing and the way your Light once again chases off his ever-present dark thoughts. “No?”

You hum again in affirmative, and your lips give the slightest pop as they go up into a smile, “I was never a big jungle gym person. I don't remember the last time I climbed anything. There was a rock wall at the ESU gym I wanted to try, but they were so understaffed I didn’t want to bother them.”

Before he can comment about his experience with rock walls, the heavy thud of worn leather loafers enters into the mental perimeter he has made around the table, signaling the approach of someone.

Your hand slides off the table and away from his. 

“I see the tarta de queso was the correct choice,” the front of house manager says, amusement clear in his thick New Jersey accent. Matt can tell he's been in the restaurant business for a long time - his movements are smooth as he clears the dishes from the table and the smell of garlic has seeped into his skin. Surprisingly, he doesn't reek of cigarettes or weed - a strong odor most fine dining workers carry. It is something he appreciates. 

Matt had enjoyed his meal. The food was not only delicious - it was clean. The chef runs a tight kitchen. He had heard it when he had checked in to see when food would be coming out. There is no cross contamination on the knives and plates are thoroughly rinsed. He couldn't even taste the soap on the forks. 

“It was perfect. And so pretty,” you say, your voice taking on a polite and pleasant tone. He's noticed that you adopt it whenever you are talking to a service worker. It's sweet. 

“It was amazing,” he agrees quickly.

The man gives a hardy laugh, “Good, good. Now, would you like one more glass of wine? Maybe an after-dinner drink or coffee? Something to go? We have some albondigas that reheat in the microwave beautifully.”

Matt defers to you and your hair bounces as you shake your head, “I think I am at my limit. Everything was absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Another waiter slips into the perimeter and silently relieves the front of house manager of plates and wine glasses, leaving the man with the ability to clap his hands together. “The pleasure was all mine. Mister Murdock and his guests are welcome back anytime, our treat. Just give us a call and let us know, we will have a table for you.”

It is his turn to thank the man, and he does so, adding, “That is too kind of you.”

“Nonsense! It is the least we could do for you,” the man declares, and Matt’s neck heats up just a little. The daughter of the owner had gotten into some hot water, and he had been able to keep her out of jail. “Now! I will leave you two lovebirds be, but you let me know if you change your mind about that coffee.”

He quite literally bows out and Matt directs his full focus back to you. 

All of the signals he is getting indicate you are as pleased as he is with how your night is going. He can guess you have a shy little smile with how your head is ever so slightly ducked and he wonders if you’re looking at him through your lashes. He can practically feel your gaze dancing over his features. A certain tang is starting to hit his palette that gets his blood pumping and he all but starts to salivate. 

He can’t hold back the slight growl in his voice when he asks, “Want to get out of here?”

Your body gives him the reaction he wants, and he is quick to stand and offer you his arm. You get up rather gracefully - Matt thinks you are hyper aware of your movements, and you want to look composed in such an elegant restaurant - and take hold of his bicep. It is the opposite of how you usually walk, but you have no trouble leading him through the winding tables and out onto the sidewalk. The change in temperature gives you a shiver and instinctively, you press closer. 

He wants to pull you flush, to get his hands on the silk he’s draped your curves in, but he reminds himself to behave. 

You turn to face him, hand still on his sleeve. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth as you work up the nerve to say whatever you are going to. He is, of course, patient and lets you fret and fuss for a few seconds. 

“Do you,” you start, barely above a whisper and as sweet and thick as honey, “want to get a cab back to your place?”

He had had more plans to woo you, but they are tossed away as soon as the words leave your lips. He wants nothing more than your suggestion and tells you as much before moving to flag down the nearest car. Given the popularity of the venue, it takes all but a second. He slides in behind you and gives the cabbie his address. 

His apartment is only a few blocks away, but that's far too many for you to walk in your gown. 

And Matt wants to get there as fast as possible.

The ride is silent as can be, but far from uneventful. Like it is a continuation from dinner, both his hand and yours end up on the seat between you. He tries to remain calm and collected, but his heart pounds in his chest like he is a teenager as he stretches his pinky out to brush against yours. Your breath catches in your throat and arousal courses through you so quickly it makes his head spin and his dick jump to attention. 

So hesitantly, like the cabbie is going to turn around and start chastising you for being so scandalous, you link your finger with his. He doesn’t even try to fight the smile that takes over his face. His boyish excitement must be contagious - you’re biting at your lips again and your face radiates heat. 

He is quick to take the lead for the next step, not even thinking as he turns your hand and laces your fingers with his. They fit together perfectly - and like the lovesick puppy he is, he can’t resist the cliche hand squeeze. 

Apparently, you are just as cheesy as he is, because your hand clenches around his just a millisecond faster. 

It is hours or minutes or days of your Light wrapping around Matt’s mind before the cab rolls up in front of his apartment and he is paying for the ride. He refuses to let go of you as you both leave the car, and he doesn’t wait for it to pull away before he’s leading you to the building’s door.

The dynamic shifts once you cross the threshold. 

It is only a few steps in until you are in front of the elevator and Matt expertly pivots so he is behind you once the call button is pressed. He no longer has to hold back - there is no one around and cameras do not exist in this building. His hands go to your waist, and he tangles his fingers into the silk of your dress. It’s still cool to the touch and slides over his skin like water. His hands smooth up your body just a fraction - hitching your dress up so it no longer touches the ground. 

He pulls you back, so you are flush to his chest and it is a step back you eagerly take. As he ducks his head to latch his lips to your pulse point, you let yours fall to the side, giving him so much more access. He doesn’t waste this gift - this offering - and he leaves his first mark of the night. 

Your body weeps for him. If the salt from your skin wasn’t coating his tongue, the tart flavor of your arousal would be. He can hear the way your cunt flexes and clenches around nothing, and he silently promises he won’t leave you empty for much longer. You are not the only one eager and he needs to get his fix before he spends the rest of the night taking you apart. 

Luckily, Foggy has agreed to babysit until one in the morning, so Matt has plenty of time to savor you. 

Under his tongue, you struggle to not moan. Your control is too tight to allow that in public, but once you are in his bed, he is going to make you hoarse. The catches in your throat are the best kind of tease. 

You breathe his name just as the elevator slides open. He urges you forward and follows without letting up his kissing. He goes up your neck until he can nip at your earlobe, and you melt even more under his touch.

“Sixth floor,” he whispers, not wanting to let go of you to reach for the buttons. It takes you a moment to act and you are a bit clumsy with pressing the right floor, but it doesn’t matter. The doors close and Matt has you in his arms. 

His hands wander over your hips and belly - he can't get enough of you and the way your skin sounds against the fabric is like music to his ears. All he wants to do is touch you.

You press your hips back, so your ass rubs against him enticingly. He’s long since hard and the intentional friction makes his brain short circuit for a split second - it takes everything to not grind into you or pin you to the elevator wall. 

Your hands find his and you oh so gently drag your nails over his knuckles while also applying pressure to his wrist with the heel of your hand. He takes it as a sign you want more, and he spreads his fingers as wide as he can to drag over your hips. 

“I need my cock in you,” he breaths into your ear. You shudder and barely hold back a whine. “I need to feel you cum for me, just from that. Then I’m going to lay you out and get my fill of that perfect pussy of yours until you can’t say anything but my name. Then,” he promises, letting his voice get ragged and lower in octave, “I’m going to flip you over and mount you like I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

“Matt..” you choke on his name, and he takes a moment to admire that you are managing to stay composed. It’s holding on by a string, but you are not giving him the satisfaction of turning you into a mess.

Yet.

The elevator finally reaches the correct floor and creaks open. You move practically as one as you both hurry out of the elevator. He hates he has to let go of you to get the keys from his pocket, but he has enough practice he doesn’t fumble with them to get the door open. 

He doesn’t know who does what first once inside - all he knows is his mouth is on yours before the lock clicks shut and your hands are in his hair. You’re up against the door and it is him producing the needy noises as he ruts against you. 

All of your shyness and hesitancy is gone in the privacy of his apartment. You are as hungry for him as he is for you, and it is him who has to break the kiss to be able to breathe. You start to push at his suit jacket, but he won’t allow it - instead he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. 

“Not yet,” he hums. The last of the blood in his head doesn’t let him forget that he has one last thing to do before he can take you to bed. 

You pout but don’t complain, and he rewards that by lacing his fingers with yours once again. He guides you from the entrance hallway and towards his bedroom, walking backwards the entire way so he remains facing you. The click of your heels echo and with each step, his cock twitches with desire. 

His bedroom has a new addition that he leads you to - a mirror. He’s propped it on his dresser just for this occasion. He understands your confusion as he positions himself behind you, but you play along with his game, not questioning his intentions. 

He lets go of your hands to smooth them up your arms, to your shoulders, then the back of your dress. The zipper glides down smoothly and with a little urging from him, the gown drops from your figure to pile on the ground, leaving you in just your heels and panties. 

Lace panties he had purchased and snuck into the garment bag that dress had come in. He would have bought you shoes as well, but he didn’t know your size. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you comment, but Matt can hear how you don’t actually care about that. Your blood is thrumming, and your slick has started to creep out of its confines and down your leg.

“Patience, my darling.” 

You have on earrings - dangly things that tinkle with every movement of your head. He has little practice removing such things and he is lucky they are hooks he can slide out instead of complicated studs he’s heard Karen complain about. Again, you don’t question him, only tilting your head to help him when you realize what he is doing. He sets them and his glasses on the dresser before he gently taps his shoe against your heels. That is all the instruction you need, and you step out of them. 

The last thing is your panties. As much as he wants to rip them off with his teeth, that is not the plan for the night. He ghosts his hands down your sides before he hooks his thumbs at their hem and lets them fall to be with the dress.

His blood pounds in his ears as he reaches into his coat pocket. The box nestled inside is small, fitting in the palm of his hand, and he keeps it out of your view as he pulls it out. His fingers may or may not shake as he opens the box and removes the delicate chain hidden inside. 

The inhale you take and the way you still as he drapes the necklace around your throat tells him everything he needs to know. Lightning is dancing up and down you as goosebumps cover your skin and he doesn’t need to taste the salt in the air to know there are tears starting to gather in your eyes. 

He clasps the necklace close, then lets his hands fall so they can wrap around your waist. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and simply states, “You are beautiful.”

The necklace is a single, tear shaped pendant about the size of his fingernail, hanging from a thin chain. According to the jeweler, the gemstone is a deep red ruby. It is simple and elegant. 

You hold your breath as you reach up to touch it. Your eyes are fixed on the mirror, and he can tell your lips are parted in shock as you examine yourself. He takes advantage of your distraction to kiss your shoulder. 

“Will you wear this for me?” he asks with his voice. 

‘Will you let me love you’ is what his heart means.

He tries to not panic when you don’t respond. He knows that your cheeks are now wet, and he Prays he did not get his signals wrong. This may have been a step too much - you might not yet be ready for this. 

His doubt is vanquished as you swirl around and kiss him with everything you have. 

He gets undressed in record time - you work his pants while he shrugs off his jacket and yanks his dress shirt over his head, not bothering to deal with the buttons. Soon enough you are both nude and stumbling into the bed. 

Matt lets you direct him onto his back, and he reaches for the drawer of his bedside table while you crawl on top of him. It is your turn to kiss his neck and shoulders, adding in bites and scrapes of your teeth as he all but rips a condom out of its packaging. He knows you aren’t on birth control yet - and as much as he wants to fill you to the brim with his seed, he also knows pregnancy isn’t something you want in your near future. 

He barely gets the protection on before your perfect heat is surrounding him. You throw your head back, shameless in your moaning as you sink down onto him. 

He nearly cums from just that.

You plant your hands on his chest, nails dragging wonderfully down his skin, and begin to ride him like you were meant for it. He had wanted to fuck you into the mattress, but if this is what you want, he has no room to complain. His hands find your waist and he digs his fingers in, wanting to leave bruises as he keeps you steady on his cock. 

“Take what you want, sweetheart, I’m yours. I’m yours,” he encourages. “Ride my cock.”

You squeeze around him, your body already so close to release. He needs you to chase it. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you pant as you grind your cunt on him, “been wanting this. Wanting you. Needing you.”

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, baby. Tell me what you want.”

He gets his feet planted so he can start meeting your rolls and his hands can no longer stay still. One goes down so he can rub at your already swollen and soaking clit and the other jumps to your breast. Your nipple is pebbled under his thumb, and he pinches at it, making you keen.

“Wanna…Matt..want this.” 

You are far too focused on bouncing on him to get out words and he doesn’t mind one bit - he’ll get you to tell him your desires at some point. He has all night to coax it out. 

You claw at him as your core begins to tighten and Matt puts himself to work. He becomes so easily lost in you - your skin on his, your taste in his mouth, your sweet noises drowning out everything else except the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you. He wants his mouth on you, but you’ve got him pinned as you use him for support and leverage. You are starting to shake, and he takes up any slack in your riding by increasing his thrusts.

Your nails pierce his skin as your cunt begins to squeeze and pulse around him and, even with a condom, it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. 

He doesn’t white out, but he misses when you collapse onto him, because the next thing he knows, you’re nuzzling into his neck with a pleased hum. He returns the noise as he brushes his nose and lips over the crown of your head. 

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble against him, and Matt finds himself agreeing. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and greedily keeping all of your weight on him.

“We can stay here as long as you want, darling. I’m yours.”

With the smallest movement, you turn your face to hide against him and breathe out words he’s sure he’s not actually meant to hear.

“You’re mine.”

((“I love you.”))

---

im not dead anymore

--

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

OMG. What if Spencer finds out reader is pregnant, then they’re obviously like SUPER HAPPY! then they go to the ultrasound technician and find out they’re having….

TWINSSS!!

part of my pregnant!reader series. it’s like with my mom and her twin sister, a rare family pairing.

“okay if we have another girl let’s name her…”

“well i think we’re gonna have a boy this time and i like matthew. mattys a cute nickname.”

spencer chuckled, “okay, matthew for boy. and charlotte for a girl, it dates back to the fourteenth century and means ‘free man’ and ‘petite’. and matthew is a traditional hebrew name meaning ‘gift of god’.”

you rubbed both palms over your exposed stomach, “you don’t have to be any of those meanings, little one. i just like the names.” whispering for the the growing apple.

you and spencer were waiting in the ultrasound room at your gyno’s office. you were six months along and this was the finally check up to make sure the fetus was still healthy and no complications were showing. their kicking seemed to be more active, you could barely sleep last night as your intestines were used like a punching bag.

there was a knock then the technician stepped into the room, “hello mr and mrs. reid. i see that this is your second child. would you like to know the gender or wait until the birth?” she sent her chart down, snapped her gloves on and started to apply the ice cold topical.

“oh!” a quiet noise from you. “uh, we’ve decided to know this time. we waited with our first child and just thought this might move some things along faster.” turning to look at spencer and both of you smiled delicately at each other.

“alrighty, let’s see this little one.” she set the tool near your bellybutton then began to move it around until movement showed on the screen beside her, “our little star and, oh…”

she got quiet while looking closer at the monitor and vitals. you felt your heart beat faster by two and squeezed spencer’s hands a little tight, “is- are they okay?”

the technician smiled, her eyes on the screen then to you. “well it looks like your family is growing by two. it’s twins.”

“…twins?” spencer sounded speechless. “chances of twins is one in forty-three worldwide. there aren’t even any know twins on either side of our family.” his mouth running faster then his mind.

she laughs, “well it looks like the second one was just more quiet. and also it looks to be a boy and girl, fraternal twins. and they are both in perfect health.” she worked on printing out pictures then wiped down your stomach, “also i heard that mothers of twins will live longer since their body has to be stronger growing two fetus at once.”

“that’s a pretty nice thought.” she left the two of you to grab your pictures.

spencer rubbed a knuckle over your cheek, a dreamy smile on his face. “looks like we both get to have our baby names,” giving your forehead a loving kiss.

“and you’re getting a vasectomy.”

[misshoneyimhome]

500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

"If you cross her, then you cross me” I Matthew Knies☆

Requested: yes/no

Summary: After weeks apart, Matthew Knies finally sees his girlfriend again, his heart racing with anticipation. Yet, the sight of bruises on her arm brings a sharp reminder of why he hates being away from her.

Tropes & warnings: Matthew Knies x reader, established relationship, boyfriend!Kniesy, protective!Kniesy, no real harm (bruise), Smut 18+; Oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside;

Other notes: So, we're at the final stop of our Followers Festival, and I can’t express enough how grateful I am for your input! Writing like this is always so much fun and thrilling, as it's pushing me to explore new challenges 🤗 Thank you so much for joining my little celebration and for reading my work ❤️ Lots of love!

Word count: 2.9K

➼｡ﾟ

You and your boyfriend, Matthew Knies, had been apart for far too long.

_

Almost a year ago, your life had taken an unexpected yet wonderful turn, where it all started on a crisp autumn evening when you decided to attend a charity event organised by your company. You hadn’t particularly been enthusiastic about going, but it was for a good cause, and as the newest (and youngest) hire, you felt obliged to make an appearance.

The venue was a beautiful old mansion converted into an event space, filled with elegantly dressed guests, soft music, and the hum of polite conversation. And almost lost in your own thoughts, you casually wandered around, occasionally mingling with colleagues and sampling the delicious hors d'oeuvres, when you suddenly spotted a tall, handsome man across the room. He had a relaxed confidence about him, and you couldn't help but notice the way he smiled as he chatted with a group of people.

Then feeling the need to hold onto something for comfort, you made your way over to the refreshment table near where he stood. And as luck would have it, you both reached for the same glass of champagne at the same time, where the tall man simply laughed, a warm, genuine sound, and motioned for you to take it.

“Looks like we have the same taste,” he said with a grin.

You smiled back, feeling a spark of something you couldn’t quite identify. “I guess we do.”

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he introduced casually, extending his hand.

“I'm y/n,” you replied softly, shaking his hand in a polite and friendly manner. His grip was firm yet reassuring, and you found yourself immediately at ease.

And from that small moment, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You discovered that Matthew was a professional hockey player, currently enjoying some downtime before the new season began. He was charming and down-to-earth, with a passion for the sport that was infectious. You shared stories about your jobs, your interests, and your families, finding common ground in unexpected places.

So, as the evening progressed, you both found yourselves gravitating towards each other, enjoying the easy banter and undeniable chemistry. When the event then started to wind down, Matthew hesitated for a moment before asking if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime.

“I'd love that,” you replied, feeling a flutter of excitement.

And so, your relationship began. The first coffee date turned into a series of outings—dinners, walks in the park, movie nights—each one bringing you closer together. Matthew’s schedule was hectic, but he always made time for you, and you quickly found yourself falling for him faster than you had ever thought possible.

By the time you reached the six-month mark, you knew this was something truly special. Despite the challenges of his demanding career and your own busy life, the bond you shared only grew stronger. The time apart was hard, but it made the moments together even more precious.

_

The off-season brought you nothing but more joy and excitement into your life. Matthew had invited you to spend a few weeks in his hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, where you were introduced to everyone. 

And those weeks in Phoenix were nothing but magical, filled with warm, sun-soaked days and cool, starry nights. You visited his favourite childhood spots, hiked the stunning desert trails, and shared countless meals with his family, where his parents welcomed you with open arms, treating you like one of their own.

Matthew took you to some of his favourite local hangouts, where you met his old friends who regaled you with stories of their younger days. And you could easily see the deep bonds he had with them, which made you feel even closer to him. The evenings were your favourite, spent on the porch of his family’s home, sipping cold drinks and watching the spectacular Arizona sunsets.

Those quiet moments, where you could simply enjoy each other's company without any interruptions, were what you cherished the most. 

But as wonderful as those weeks had been, reality eventually intruded, and you were called back to return to work. Matthew stayed back as he was busy with off-season training, his days then filled with rigorous workouts and team meetings, while your own days were consumed by the demands of your job. 

Though you both tried to keep in touch with nightly video calls and sweet text messages throughout the day, it was never quite the same as being together. The screen could never capture the warmth of his touch or the comfort of his presence.

The nights were lonely, and the days felt endless without him. The ache of missing him settled deep in your chest, a constant reminder of the distance between you. You threw yourself into work, trying to fill the void, but it was a poor substitute for the man you loved. Weekends were the hardest. You'd find yourself aimlessly wandering the apartment, lingering over the photos of the two of you scattered around, each one a painful reminder of what you were missing.

And sensing your melancholy, your friends decided to cheer you up. So, they dragged you out one night, determined to lift your spirits. They took you to a lively bar downtown, where the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the sound of loud, pulsing music. And for a while, it worked. The drinks flowed, laughter came easily, and the music helped drown out your thoughts as you danced with your girlfriends, trying to forget how much you missed Matthew.

But then, amid the flashing lights and the thumping bass, a man approached you. At first, he seemed harmless, just another person looking to have a good time. But as the night wore on, his behaviour became more insistent. He moved closer, invading your personal space, and his touch lingered on your arm longer than was comfortable. You tried to signal politely but firmly that you weren’t interested, yet he didn’t seem to take the hint. At one point, his grip even tightened around your wrist, and though you managed to pull away, the encounter left you shaken.

Nothing overtly dangerous happened, but his touch left you feeling unsettled. You felt a surge of anger and frustration, not just at the man who had crossed the line, but at the circumstances that had left you vulnerable and alone. You wished Matthew had been there, his presence a shield against the world.

_

Fortunately, only two days later, you stood at the airport, your heart pounding with anticipation. The noise of the bustling crowd, the rolling of suitcases, and the constant announcements over the intercom all faded into the background as you anxiously scanned the throngs of people for a familiar face. Every second felt like an eternity. But then, through the sea of strangers, you finally spotted him. Matthew’s tall frame and broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Your heart leapt as your eyes met his, and you saw his face break into a wide grin that mirrored your own. And without a moment's hesitation, you dashed towards him, your feet barely touching the ground. When you reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours. And effortlessly, he lifted you slightly off the ground as he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured into your ear, his voice rough with emotion.

“Missed you too,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest. The relief of being in his embrace after so long was overwhelming, washing over you in waves. You could feel the tension of the past weeks melt away as you clung to him, savouring the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady beat of his heart.

So, with no intention of wasting a single moment, you grabbed his hand and headed straight for the car. The drive to your shared apartment was filled with stolen glances and soft touches, the air between you crackling with anticipation. And by the time you reached your place, the need to be close to each other was almost too much to bear.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Matthew’s lips were already on yours, the urgency of your reunion clear in every kiss. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if to make up for the lost time. Meanwhile, your own hands fumbled with his jacket, eager to feel his skin against yours. You barely made it to the living room before clothes began to come off, a trail of discarded garments marking your path to the bedroom.

And once in the bedroom, Matthew’s hands explored your body, rediscovering every curve he had missed. His touch was both tender and demanding, his fingertips tracing the lines of your body with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine. The kisses grew more passionate as he explored your skin, each touch igniting a fire within you.

He knew your body like a map he’d charted himself, but his touch faltered when he encountered a mark on your arm—a bruise that hadn’t been there before. So, he pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he examined the bruise.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was rough, filled with concern and barely-contained anger. His jaw tightened as he looked at you, his protective instincts flaring up.

“It’s nothing, Matts,” you said, trying to downplay it. “Just some guy at a bar… it’s not a big deal.”

“No, this is something!” His eyes were fierce, the protective side of him coming to the fore. “A guy touched you? And bruised you?”

“It looks worse than it was…” you began, but he cut you off with a gentle but firm grip on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

Matthew’s face softened slightly, but the anger in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “I don’t like thinking about someone else touching you.”

You sighed, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “I’m alright. I’m here with you now. That’s what matters.”

His gaze remained intense, but then he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a deep, passionate kiss that stole every bit of air from your lungs. His hands were rough yet tender, conveying the love and longing that had built up over the past weeks. And the kiss was an attempt to claim you, to remind you of his presence and devotion, and you could feel the intensity of his emotions in every movement—how his lips pressed against yours, how his hands held you close. It was as if he was pouring all the missed moments and unspoken words into that one kiss.

And then, Matthew’s focus shifted to ensuring your pleasure, his touch expert and attentive. He started by exploring your body with his mouth, trailing kisses down your jawline and along the valley of your breasts. He lingered briefly at each nipple before continuing downward, moving past your belly button to your core.

Light moans escaped you as he settled between your legs, his arms wrapped around your thighs. He then kissed around your needy centre, his touch both deliberate and tender.

“Please, Matts. I need you,” you whimpered softly, your hand finding his brown locks, as if to pull him closer.

But Matthew just smirked against your skin, tightening his grip before he finally indulged in the craving he’d been holding back. Skillfully, he licked up your folds, drawing moans from you—sweet music to his ears as he savoured your tasty honey.

“Oh yes,” you breathed out, your head sinking deeper into the pillow below you, your fingers gripping his hair. “Mmm, more…”

And your plea was his command. He licked you several times, making sure to explore all of your sensitive areas, before focusing on your sensitive clit. Sucking and nipping, he wasted no time in drawing louder moans from you. And as he sensed your light squirming under his touch, feeling the power he held over you, he worked his skilled mouth with determination.

“Mmm, taste so fucking delicious, baby,” he hummed huskily into your core as he ate you out you like a starved man getting his first meal in months.

“Fuck,” you cried softly as you felt the arousal build within you, a familiar wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You were approaching your climax, and the ecstasy intensified as Matthew continued to suck on your sensitive bead of nerves, making you shut your eyes tightly. And when he then added his long fingers into the mix, it didn’t take long before his skilled tongue pushed you to your first orgasm.

“I’m gonna cu—Matts, I’m coming!”

The sensation was intense, a welcome relief from the tension of your separation.

And as Matthew looked up from between your legs, urging you to meet his gaze, a satisfied smirk played on his lips. “It’s good to be home.”

You couldn’t suppress a smile either, the rush of your orgasm still lingering as he gently moved to hover over you. Feeling the need to shift positions, you then signalled for him to lie on his back.

And Matthew naturally obliged. He always enjoyed when you tried to take charge—emphasis on *trying*, as you both knew that even when you were on top, he was still the one truly in control.

Yet, as you positioned yourself on top of him, you led with fervour and passion. His length was larger than any man you’d experienced before, but whenever he was inside you, it felt like your bodies melded perfectly together. You rolled your hips smoothly, his hands guiding you gently, as your palms pressed firmly on his muscular chest, giving you support to increase your pace at his unspoken command. Then with his thumb pressing insistently against your sensitive clit, Matthew helped you reach another peak. Arching your back and clenching around him, you let his name slip from your lips in a deep moan.

It was a blissful moment as you reached your second orgasm. However, as the rhythm of your movements built, Matthew’s own desire surged. So, with a swift motion, he turned you around into missionary, where he effortlessly took control and began pounding into you with primal intensity. His movements were relentless, driven by his need for release. 

It had been too long. Too long since he had felt himself inside you, too long since he’d climaxed under your touch.

His breathing was erratic, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the echo of skin slapping against skin throughout the room. Your nails dug into the back of his shoulders, and the force of his thrusts pushed both of you to the brink, each touch and movement designed to make the experience as overwhelming and fulfilling as possible.

“Fuck baby…. Oh yes,” he groaned deeply as he spilled his release into you, gasping for air. Matthew knew he finished sooner than he’d usually do, but given the time apart, it was no surprise to either of you.

Besides, you were already satisfied with your own rather quick orgasms he’d caused you. 

You both panted deeply, surprised by how intense and satisfying the reunion felt, more so than you had anticipated. And as you lay tangled in the sheets, the aftermath of your intimacy left both of you spent but content. Yet, you could sense something lingering in Matthew’s demeanour—a worry that hadn’t quite been erased.

“What’s wrong, my love?” you asked softly, tuning slightly to face your incredibly handsome boyfriend, with his Arizona tan. 

But Matthew just brushed a strand of hair from your face, his voice tender and sincere. “I just don’t like thinking of someone else touching you.”

“Then don’t think about it,” you replied, resting a hand on his chest. “Nothing happened. I’m here with you now.”

“But still… if someone crosses you, they also cross me,” he said, his tone resolute and protective. “And I’m not going to let it go. If I knew who it was, I’d…”

“You’d what? Risk your career by punching a stranger in the face?” you chuckled lightly with a cocked brow. 

“No,” Matthew breathed out softly. “I just wanted to make them pay for doing anything like this to you…”

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, touched by his fierce loyalty. “You’re wonderful, Matts. But I can take care of myself when you’re not here. You don’t need to go around and punch people for me.”

“I know you can,” he said, gently pulling you even closer. “I just… I love you so much. I’ve never loved anyone like this before. And… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me. Not now, not ever.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, reassuring him. 

Matthew’s arms tightened around you, a final, tender embrace as the two of you settled into a peaceful slumber. In that moment, all the fears and uncertainties of the past few weeks faded away, leaving only the certainty of your love for each other.

Well, Matthew, of course, couldn’t let it go completely. So, he interrogated your friends, pressing them for any information about who might have done this to you, earning light chuckles from all of you. However, as weeks passed, the bruises fading, and the hockey season began, the incident faded into the background.

[cosmicalls]

if you like dead poets society, you may like these!

just for fun: a little list of movies, shows, and books i like that i feel have something in common with dps. hopefully you'll find something you'd like, too!

not in any particular order. just the order that i thought of them in really

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A Separate Peace

by John Knowles - published 1959

a coming-of-age novel set at an all-boys new england boarding school. follows two boys, Gene and Finny, and their experiences during the summer and winter sessions of 1942. talks a bit about WWII and what role the boys may have to play in that, but it stays pretty focused on the school and the emotions involved during this time in one's life. all the growth and transformation and oddly homoerotic, perhaps very codependent, friendship of a bildungsroman that we love to look for.

one of my personal favorite books, even considering that it was assigned reading. i truly believe many of you would like it and i know for a fact some of you can vouch for me

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower

by Stephen Chbosky - published 1999 movie adaptation: dir. Stephen Chbosky - released 2012

follows Charlie and his general struggles of high school and with being, well, a wallflower. from goodreads: "Caught between trying to live his life and trying to run from it puts him on a strange course through uncharted territory. The world of first dates and mixed tapes, family dramas and new friends. The world of sex, drugs, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, when all one requires is that the perfect song on that perfect drive to feel infinite."

very emotional. that's all! i preferred the movie, but i liked the format of the book being completely in letters that Charlie was writing. they're both good! (if you watch the movie, the english teacher's name is Mr. Anderson. so do with that information what you will...!)

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Matilda

by Roald Dahl - published 1988 movie adaptation: dir. Danny DeVito - released 1996 musical adaptation: dir. Matthew Warchus - released 2022

a young girl with an aptitude for reading discovers she has telekinetic abilities at the same time she begins attending school. unfortunately, the principal is an extremely harsh woman, and none of the students seem to enjoy it there. Matilda uses her courage and newfound powers to change her environment for the better, both at school and in her abrasive home.

such a good movie, a childhood favorite. the musical has a great soundtrack too!

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Good Will Hunting

dir. Gus Van Sant - released 1997

a janitor is recognized as a mathematical genius by an MIT professor, and he goes on an emotional journey to embrace his intellect. starring Robin Williams, our dearly beloved inspiration, as the therapist Will goes to see for much of the film.

i only saw it once and my description is lacking but ooh it hurt...... just trust me on this one

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A Series of Unfortunate Events

by Lemony Snicket - published 1999-2006 tv series adaptation: aired 2017-2019

JUST HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE okay. it's about a trio of siblings, orphaned, who are shuttled from one parental unit to another while being followed by a man after their immense wealth. they quickly discover they are in the midst of an intellectual conflict in a secret organization. they must rely on only each other, seeing as all the adults around them are wildly incompetent and/or unhelpful. and it is filled to the brim with literary references!!

both versions have really fun and witty narration, and the tv adaptation is extremely faithful. i don't know how else to describe it without going overboard so i'll settle for not descriptive enough! just trust me. yes it is a kids' series and yes it is one of my favorites ever. it's the vibes of it all

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If We Were Villains

by M.L. Rio - published 2017

about a group of Shakespeare theater students at a very pretentious arts school who find themselves in a very high-tension dynamic following a disaster that occurs after their halloween performance of Macbeth. lots and lots of Shakespeare, lots of dramatics, and the book itself is divided into five acts.

i finished this in about two nights and it was extremely creatively inspiring. it was a bit predictable, but that's not a bad thing. it still had me clutching my pearls and dropping my jaw

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"The Artist of the Beautiful"

by Nathaniel Hawthorne - published 1844

a romantic era short story about a man who feels utterly trapped by his occupation. he would rather concern himself with the delicate beauty of nature, and he attempts to realize this in his passion project - much to the disdain of the people around him.

a bit of a sneak sorry. i just think it's just in line with neil's whole thing you know. it's a lot of long and flowery sentences but it works really well i promise

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The Breakfast Club

dir. John Hughes - released 1985

the letterboxd synopsis really says it all: "They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. | Five high school students from different walks of life endure a Saturday detention under a power-hungry principal. The disparate group includes rebel John, princess Claire, outcast Allison, brainy Brian and Andrew, the jock. Each has a chance to tell his or her story, making the others see them a little differently – and when the day ends, they question whether school will ever be the same."

i don't have much to add and to be honest! kind of a stretch for this list! but i have faith

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obviously there are other shows and movies with the dead poets society leads, but i wanted to sort of branch out a bit for the bulk of this list. i will still list the ones i had in mind though

House M.D. (2004-2012) - tv series about genius diagnostician Dr. Gregory House and his team at a hospital in new jersey. Robert Sean Leonard stars as House's best friend and head of oncology Dr. James Wilson. very comedic but also very heartwrenching.

Tape (2001) - three friends meet at a motel room and dredge up and argue over unpleasant events of the past. starring Ethan Hawke and Robert Sean Leonard.

Before Sunrise (1995) - from letterboxd: "A young man and woman meet on a train in Europe, and wind up spending one evening together in Vienna. Unfortunately, both know that this will probably be their only night together." Ethan Hawke plays one half of the lead duo.

and yeah there's a LOT more but those are the ones i've seen and sincerely recommend. not to say others aren't good but this is a (very) curated list you see.

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phew that's not as many as i thought i had in my back pocket but it's still pretty good. plus, there's some things i havent read/watched yet that perhaps would have made it but alas! such is life

absolutely add to the list if you'd like!! let's all share our favorite stories

[poirott]

Agatha Christie's 'Towards Zero' tv series: First Look

The BBC has released the first pictures of Towards Zero, based on the classic mystery by Agatha Christie.

England, 1936. After a scandalous celebrity divorce, Nevile Strange and his ex-wife Audrey make the unthinkable decision to spend a summer together at Gull's Point, their childhood home and the coastal estate of Nevile's aunt, Lady Tressilian.

With unfinished business between the former childhood sweethearts, plus the presence of Nevile's new wife Kay, tensions are running high. Add to this a long-suffering lady's companion, a mysterious gentleman's valet, an exiled cousin with a grudge, a venerable family lawyer, an inquisitive orphan and a French con man, and soon there will be murder. A troubled detective must rediscover his purpose to untangle a toxic web of jealousy, deceit and dysfunction. Can he solve the crime before another victim meets their death?

The new pictures give a first glimpse at Lady Tressilian (Anjelica Huston), Inspector Leach (Matthew Rhys) and British tennis star Nevile Strange (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) - seen in the pics with the two ladies in his life: ex-wife Audrey (Ella Lily Hyland) and new wife Kay (Mimi Keene). The series is also starring Clarke Peters as Mr. Treves, an old friend of Lady Tressilian, Anjana Vasan as Mary Aldin, another party guest caught up in this disastrous mess, Jack Farthing as suspect Thomas Royde, Jackie Clune (Motherland), Grace Doherty (Call the Midwife), Khalil Gharbia (Mary & George), and Adam Hugill (Sherwood).

Towards Zero is expected to premiere on the BBC over the 2024 holidays and arrive on BritBox in early 2025. It's been adapted for screen by BAFTA-nominated Rachel Bennette (NW) and directed by the Olivier Award-winning Sam Yates (Magpie).

Source: BBC, Agatha Christie Official Instagram - October 1 2024

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 1st Tilt

Lord Eddard “Ned” Stark, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) VS. Bard the Bowman, The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014)

Propaganda

Lord Eddard “Ned” Stark, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) Portrayed by: Sean Bean Defeated Opponents: - Lurtz [Lawrence Makoare], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) - Prince Hamlet [Iain Glen], Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990)

“This is one of the most noble characters I've ever seen in my life. To the point that it's a little astounding if you know anything about Game of Thrones. Ned Stark put his family first before anything, and wasn't afraid to cast away his honour and reputation to achieve that. He loves his wife dearly (enough to have 5 kids lol) and they rule Winterfell as equals. Also his big fur coat? I am going to nest in there.”

Bard the Bowman, The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014) Portrayed by: Luke Evans Defeated Opponents: - Perrin Aybara [Marcus Rutherford], The Wheel of Time (2021-) - Will Scarlet O’Hara [Matthew Porretta], Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

“He wins the Best Father in fiction while also claiming the title of Dragon Slayer. What's not to love?”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Ned Stark:

“Probably the only actually good person in the whole damn series, and a DILF to boot”

For Bard:

[joelmillerlover123]

A Gentlemen's Burden - A romantic regency era Joel Miller story - Part 1

This is going to be a series!!!! Yay!!!!

Description : Your typical life with your sister is thrown upside down as a handsome visitor catches your eye.

Warnings : Um idek if this would be considered a pre/no outbreak AU but I guess it is?? Sarah is a pretty prominent character. Female reader. No use of y/n. Age gap (Joel is like 35ish and reader is like 23ish). Regency!Joel? Tried to keep Joel's character pretty consistent but you know... creative liberties were taken for the point of story telling.

Word count : 3.2k

Let me know if you like it!

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You had grown up in rural England, your father’s sprawling fortune overshadowed by his ‘tragic’ lack of sons. Not that he hadn’t tried, though. After your mother died in childbirth with you, he had married a sleuth of eager, young women, all waiting and wanting to give him that son he so craved. And yet, none of them ever fell pregnant. After his fourth wife and divorce, your father gave up, retreating to his office to manage the estate and figure out who would inherit his fortune. 

That was when you were around thirteen. 

This left you and your sister, Julia, to practically raise yourselves. However, your sister was sixteen and entering the marriage mart. Her beauty and wit earned her a husband in a short time and in her first season. Your father was absolutely overjoyed, because now he may have an heir in a few short years. 

That was almost ten years ago, and your sister has popped out a male heir. In fact, she’s popped out about four children. Your nieces and nephews. They are wonderful. 

Your sister married an extremely rich man and she likes to spend her days traveling and meeting interesting people. Good thing she has an exceptionally soft heart for you, her perpetual spinster of a sister. 

You had entered the marriage mart, sure. Your first season came and went with nothing but uninteresting and shallow men at your door. 

“Not even one of them?” Julia had said, pressing you to take at least one visitor. 

“No,” You had replied, turning back out the window, “Send them away.”

“I’ll tell them,” Your sister had said sorrowfully. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to marry. Sure you did. Marriage between Julia and her husband, Matthew, was quite beautiful. He doted on her and she on him. He gave her anything and everything she wanted. She wanted to come stay with you and your father during your social seasons, and he allowed her. She wanted you to move in with them after your third season and he allowed it. She wants to go and see the world and leave the children with you and the staff for months on end and he goes with her. She lives a good life and you are so grateful to be able to peek in. 

Your sister often left you with her children and estate as she and Matthew went off to far lands and expensive travels. But you didn’t mind at all. Her children were delightful. You absolutely adored them. In order, it was Benjamin and then George and then Katherine and then the youngest, Ella. 

All of them were delightful and you loved them as if they were your own. Ben and George favored Matthew but Katherine and Ella were copies of you and Julia. They even had the same age gap. 

Julia was happy with her family and her husband, even if you find Matthew quite dull.

That’s the problem, you think. The men you’ve met have been quite dull. Conversations are all the same. Ranging from if you can play the pianoforte or if you can draw, nothing about your actual interests. You had grown bored of the marriage mart by your third season and stopped attending the balls and parties. Soon, the invitations stopped coming. 

You and Julia were sitting in the drawing room. Your nieces and nephews were all playing around the two of you, causing you and your sister to sit in the eye of the storm. You were reading a book, something by Shakespeare but you weren’t quite paying attention. Your niece, Katherine, was sitting at the pianoforte, trying desperately to play something pleasant and failing miserably. Your sister had just returned from a month long trip to Italy, having left you with the children and estate, as usual. 

“I think I’m going to host a ball,” Your sister’s voice pulled your attention from the empty words on the page. 

“What?” You said, placing the book face down on your lap. 

“Yes,” She said, her voice taking a thoughtful tone and her eyes growing wistful, “My time in Italy truly inspired me. They’re so free there, truly. They dance all night and wake up in the morning ready to do it all again,” She stopped to think and then turned back to you, “Yes. I’m going to host a ball, and there will be sprays of roses and begonias and lots of greenery, to transport me and all of us to Italy,” She clapped her hands together and stood, “Perfect. I was already growing quite bored.”

“Here?” You stood with her, your skirts ruffling and catching from standing so quickly. 

“Well, where else would I have it?” She asked you the question as if you were dumb. She started walking out of the drawing room, her heels clicking on the tile of the hallway, “Come, come, you will help me plan it!” She waved you on, moving you from your spot on the floor. 

“Julia, what about me? I don’t go to balls, I’m not a debutante anymore,” You said, silently begging her to not insist you come because if she insisted, you would go. 

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Julia waved a hand in the air, poking a head into the staff kitchen, no doubt looking for her housekeeper, Margaret, “Matthew and I will be the hosts and I am inviting you. You must come. And, since you are not a debutante, you will not be badgered by the men you so despise. I’m sure they will scurry away from you just fine, no avoidance needed,” Your sister had a way of saying things that made perfect sense and convincing you quite quickly. 

But a ball? That was the last thing you wanted to do. You have avoided them so successfully that people have stopped inviting you completely. That was the goal. It was perfect. You lived the great life of a pampered house cat and your nieces and nephews kept you sharp and entertained. You didn’t have to have painfully dull and long conversations with painfully unhandsome and dull men. 

However, now that you have been deemed a spinster by society, maybe the single bachelors would look the other way. You definitely didn’t look like a debutante anymore, you are more mature and grown than the young women chasing after young bachelors. You often dressed differently than the young women as well, your sister embracing your independence and desires to be comfortable. What would you wear? 

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The week that followed was a frenzy of glitter and colors and flowers. Your sister was absolutely in her element. She adored planning and being in charge. It was perfect for her. 

“Oh, Matthew!” Your sister came barreling into the drawing room, screaming and holding a piece of paper to her chest, “Your friend, Mr. Miller is coming into town, just in time for our ball!”

“Mr. Miller?” Matthew stood from his place on the couch next to George, “Oh, I haven’t heard from him in ages. What a treat.”

“It says right here he will be arriving tomorrow, if all goes perfectly well. Oh, I am positively overjoyed! Not only are we going to have a ball, but one of our most interesting friends is coming to visit!” She spun around with a smile on her face and Matthew smiled with her, as did you. Her joy was infectious. 

You had heard the two of them talk about Mr. Miller. A widowed father that lived on the opposite side of London. He was a successful businessman, owning multiple lumber companies and having fleets of ships to do his bidding. He hails all the way from America. Very interesting that he would want to settle here, especially since his daughter is also American, from what you hear. Hm. Maybe this ball wouldn’t be so dreadful, at least you could ask Mr. Miller questions about his life. 

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You wake the next morning with the estate abuzz. Even the staff dressing you can’t stop talking about your sister’s visitor from America. Don’t they know he’s not coming all the way from America? Anyway, you don’t stop their chittering or gossiping, you like to hear the rumors the staff start to, more entertaining to report to your sister and laugh about later. 

That is, until they insist your hair must be up for the new visitor. Wearing your hair up was positively dreadful as the pins poked and prodded your scalp. You refused and one of the younger maids frowned. 

“Pray tell,” You say, startling the maids, “Why must I wear my hair up for any old visitor? My hair is never put up in pins. Did Matthew or my sister have anything to do with you requesting this?” You scan each of their faces in the mirror, waiting for something to flash across any of them. 

“No, Miss,” They hung their heads in shame and you narrowed your eyes. 

“Then what is the point of dressing me so… well,” You peered down at the beautiful gown they dressed you in. This was not your typical everyday dress. 

“He’s a bachelor,” One of the younger maids blurted out. 

“Ah,” You smile in recognition. They wanted you and Mr. Miller to hit it off. “I will not wear my hair in any particular way just because the visitor is a bachelor, alright? I enjoy my hair being down and so I will leave it down. Besides, I’m not even truly available to men anymore, ladies. No need to impress them.”

The maids continued their work and you watched in the mirror as the shock at your refusal never quite left their eyes until they all filed out of the room. 

You look in the mirror before joining your sister and her family for breakfast and laugh slightly. Makeup was not something you wore regularly and this morning, your dressing maids had taken the liberty of putting some on you. How kind. 

You were still laughing when you entered the dining room for breakfast. 

“Oh my,” Julia watched you as you sat down next to her, “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” You laughed again, “The staff wants me to marry this Mr. Miller.” 

“Oh,” Julia said, realization coloring her face, “Oh, makes more sense.” 

“Yes,” Matthew chimed in, digging into his breakfast and not particularly noticing you, “I heard some chatter about how you refused to put your hair up, yes?” 

“Yes,” You laugh again, taking a fork in your hand, “Oh, I guess good news travels fast.” 

You and Julia laugh together as you recount what you had heard them say about Mr. Miller and Julia took breakfast as an opportunity to gossip with the children about how rich Mr. Miller was. She even mentioned that Mr. Miller had a daughter that was to enter the marriage mart soon. Sarah, was her name. You listen as you eat your breakfast and soon find yourself floating from room to room, watching the staff flit about, still preparing for a ball and now a visitor. 

You wonder downstairs to where everything is coated in romantic flowers and greenery. You had to say, your sister had quite the eye for a ball. It was still your home and yet you felt as if you had been transported. She had done a truly wonderful job. You must remember to compliment her and Margaret. 

“Come now,” Julia’s hand slotted into your own, pulling you, “A carriage has pulled up and we must greet Mr. Miller.” 

Oh. 

The pressure of meeting this Mr. Miller slid off of you but you couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. You’ve never met an American. 

You lined up with the rest of the family, standing between Margaret and Ella, your rightful place as the lady of the house’s sister. 

You cock your head as the most handsome man you’ve ever seen climbs out of the carriage. As he steps onto the ground, he smiles a warm smile towards Matthew and then turns again reaching a hand out to the carriage door to which a young girl allows him to help her out. She’s precious. Her dark curls framing her face and bouncing with her movements. 

“Mr. Miller,” Matthew announces, extending his arms. 

“Oh, no need for such formalities, old friend,” Mr. Miller rushes to Matthew and shakes his hand and then hugs him, laughing. His voice is deep and gravelly, but the smile on his face shoos away any sort of intimidation he might emit. 

“Mr. Miller,” Julia says fondly, “How wonderful to see you again.” “Lady Langford,” He extends a handshake to your sister, “You’ve added another one,” She looks to Ella, who’s standing proudly, smoothing her skirt a little. You smile, looking at her. Then, Mr. Miller looks at you and cocks his head slightly. “This,” Julia steps out of line and starts walking towards you, “Is my sister,” She takes your shoulders in her hands. “Hello,” You curtsy as best you can and smile at him, “Lovely to meet you.” 

The confidence Mr. Miller has falters slightly as he looks at you and he smiles politely. 

“Lovely to meet you as well,” He extends a hand, but not for a handshake. Instead, he grabs your hand and presses a gentle, quick kiss to your knuckles, returning your hand to its place at your side. 

“She’s unmarried,” Julia threw in, not so casually, “So, she resides with us and cares for the children while Lord Langford and I are away on holiday.”

“Oh, how I’ve missed English company,” He swiftly turns from you, smiling towards your sister. You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding as his gaze leaves your face. His casual, collected demeanor is a stark contrast to the emotions written across his face just moments before. Have you met before? Were you being rude in some way? Surely that isn’t just his face. 

“I’m Sarah,” His daughter’s melodic voice interrupted your train of thought as she curtsied to you, “Thank you Lady Langford for allowing us to visit.”

“Oh, of course!” Julia smiled from ear-to-ear at Sarah and then looked to Mr. Miller, “Come now, Lord Langford must surely want to give you both a tour.”

The four of them walked away, already chatting. You could have joined them for the tour of the estate but honestly, your brief interaction with Mr. Miller had thrown you for a loop. 

“Back into the house,” You placed a gentle hand on the backs of your nieces and nephews, “We will rejoin them for dinner, yes?”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

As the few hours between Mr. Miller’s arrival and lunch passed on, you found yourself lost in thought wandering through the house again. You clutched a book in your hands but again, it was going unread. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Mr. Miller. Of course, this was normal for anyone else. A strange visitor, a properly handsome one at that, with tales from America and you had barely scratched the surface. You allowed your mind to drift to daydreams of his American adventures as a businessman. Maybe he would have a tale of a daring adventure crossing the ocean. You thought of how he might look, a white billowy shirt on, see-through with water, pulling at heavy ropes and sails. You felt your chest grow hotter and you blushed at nothing. 

“Hello,” A deep, gravelly voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, completely startled. 

“Oh!” You turned toward the source and of course found Mr. Miller, “Mr. Miller, I see you’ve found,” You looked around quickly, taking in your surroundings, “The library. Lord and Lady Langford have quite the collection,” You tried your hardest to keep your voice steady but failed miserably. 

He smiled a gentle smile and looked around at the many books, taking steps into the room. 

“Yes,” He agreed, “Lady Langford showed me earlier. She enjoys a guest,” He looked at you again, your breath spilling out of you quickly. 

“Oh, she does indeed,” You smiled, dropping the book by your side. 

“You two are close, I presume?” His smile dropped as he turned towards you fully now, his broad frame appearing even broader as his jacket stretched across his large muscles. You allowed yourself a peak at his biceps and then met his eyes again, hoping he didn’t notice. 

“We are,” You said, a little too loudly. Why was he making you so nervous? “Best friends, we’d,” You faltered slightly, now answering the question truly instead of on auto-pilot, “We’d do anything for each other.” 

“Any other siblings?” He said, his arms still clasped at the hands in front of him. 

“No,” You replied, relaxing a bit into your stance, “Just us.” 

“Hm,” He said, in thought, turning away from you again and looking towards the books, “And these? These are your choices, I presume?” He motioned to the book in your hand.

“What?” You look down at the book in your hand, taking in the title quickly and looking back to Mr. Miller, “Yes, yes. I love to read. I love literature and an occasional poem.” 

“Really? I truly admire some of the new poets and their work. I actually just got back from France with Sarah where we met some wonderful new artists. Have you read anything recently published?”

“France? Wow. It must’ve been beautiful,” You mentally searched your mind for anything you’ve read that had been recently published, “On the Sea by John Keats.”

He nodded and smiled, “Yes,” He unclasped his hands and reached up to touch a book, “Quite a poet for someone your age.”

“Really?” You challenged, feeling your nerves melt away slightly, “Or is it just quite a poet for a woman?”

He laughed at that, retreating his hand from the shelf, “No, of course not. Just… I haven’t found someone under the age of thirty-five to read Keats.”

“Hm,” You purse your lips and return your attention to the book in your hand, “Well, I’d better go and get ready for dinner, it’s a formal occasion in this house.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from Lady Langford,” He smiled, almost laughing, “And, if you would, I’d love to discuss more poets with you. I have a female poet I think you’d love, if you like Keats.” 

You smile, almost blushing. 

“See you for dinner, Mr. Miller,” You turn on your heels out of the library, but not before allowing yourself a proper look at him. His dark hair was starting to curl at the edges, his graying beard was peppered across the bottom half of his face and his big, chocolate brown eyes were set in a permanent gentle smile. You committed the curves of his cheeks and regal nose to memory and allowed yourself to picture those brown eyes that night in bed as you lie awake. 

You smiled to yourself like an idiot as you let your mind wander to places that pictured you, Mr. Miller and Sarah all happily laughing and smiling at some sprawling estate. 

You silently begged yourself to find something wrong with him in the next coming days. 

You have never acted this way about a man, ever. But, they had never piqued your interest even slightly. 

Then, you silently hoped for a dream in which you and Mr. Miller were the main characters.

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Part 2 here!

[aswaki]

big mts [smt x reader]

seok matthew x reader | 1.5k word count | crack

“hanbin sets you up with his friend, ‘big mts’”

contains: short!reader, no gendered terms for reader, suggestive tone (at the end), cursing, blind date theme, family friend!hanbin, mention of choking, brief appearance of jiwoong

“sung hanbin, i am not going out with a guy called ‘big mts’,”

you gave the raven haired man in front of you a deadpan look. his phone was in your hand, a text notification displayed on the screen. it said, “i’m almost there!” and the sender’s name was indeed ‘big mts’.

okay— sung hanbin was a thoughtful person. you had never doubted that. not when he listened to your rants about how stagnant your life was on top of every other bullshit you’ve thrown his way. he made it his mission to be your guardian angel even when you didn’t ask him too. just like how he sent you to a string of blind dates.

it began when you were talking about how there was nothing exciting happening to you for the nth time. you had been so passionate in your rant; your face was flushed. your hands were moving as you talked. hanbin had been moved but jiwoong, who sitting beside him, was the opposite. he simply looked so done.

“you know what you need? you need to get fucked.” jiwoong had declared as he leaned forward. he put his hand on top of yours. a faux serious expression was painted on his features. you stopped ranting, obviously shocked at his words.

“hey!” hanbin slapped jiwoong’s arm. they did a slight stare off while you simply giggled at their antics.

“but you know… he’s not wrong. maybe you need to meet more people! not the fucking. do not listen to jiwoong. you don’t need to be fucking everyone.” his brotherly instincts coming out. his voice was almost far away. hanbin looked at you, deep in thought. you could almost see the gears working in his brain.

that was one random day a few months ago and then the rest was history. it led you to a series of hang outs and dates. you didn’t know hanbin knew that many people. most of these meet ups didn’t end well. you wondered if hanbin just had an ad of you on craigslist (especially with a date with that one person who you were sure you saw getting dogpiled on twitter before).

so it led you to today. earlier, you were over at hanbin’s apartment unit which was a few doors down from yours. you went there under the pretense of hanging out with him. when he opened the door at you, he merely declared, “you look terrible. go change.”

he pushed you out and led you back to your unit. you look down at your sweats. is it not acceptable to be in comfortable clothes on chill days? you opened your mouth to protest but he beat you to it, “you are going on a date!”

“not again!” you screamed.

you removed yourself from his hold and ran to your door. you were not going to lose a couple precious hours of your friday to go with a possible insufferable person you just met.

you felt victorious escaping hanbin. you sighed in relief as you put the key in your doorknob. the door opened with ease but before you could close it on hanbin, he caught up with you. he easily slid right in. oh, curse his long legs. you could only glare at him. the universe was unfair for giving him tall genes but skipped it on you.

hanbin called you by your full name and said, “you are going to change and go on this date. don’t you disappoint me.”

“do i have too? you know what happened the previous times. just give up.” you whined at him. seriously, you were convinced he was bored too, that's why he was trying to play cupid.

“go. change.” he told you as he placed his hand on your shoulders and directed you to your room. the both of you were really close, almost like siblings. you tried to be childish and put all your weight on your feet to stop you from moving. your attempts only failed.

“i swear, this time is different! he’s my friend. he’s really nice and adorable. you’d love him. he just came back from canada. that should be interesting enough for you. go talk about maple syrup or something.” you turned around and gave him a blank stare. 

“okay, maybe not maple syrup,” he backtracked, “but please, please. i showed my friend your photo already. he thought you were cute! if this doesn’t work out, i’ll lay off but he’s already on his way so you need to change!”

your eyes widened. this person thought you were cute? and already on his way? jesus, hanbin knew how to get you working. this person could be a freak but he did say you were cute. you knew hanbin could also be pulling things out his ass but hey, flattery works.

“fine. this is the last one.” you gave in. hanbin nodded excitedly. you went to your room to quickly change your outfit and prepare yourself. you wanted to exceed expectations. this was hanbin’s mysterious friend. you can’t afford to look stupid. plus, given the previous statistics, this could mean this would be your last blind date for a while. you weren’t hoping this would be it. you just wanted to get this over with. you didn’t think it was bad wanting to look good to celebrate the end of hanbin’s crazy project. an end of an era.

you looked at the mirror satisfied with your look. when you stepped out of your bedroom, hanbin wasn’t in your living room. his phone, however, was. it lit up signaling a message came in. you picked it up, scoffing at what you saw. he texted he was close by already but what got to you was the bold letters, ‘big mts’ that flashed on the screen above his message. you thought it sounded obnoxious. you didn’t want to be with someone obnoxious, even for a brief moment.

hanbin came out of the bathroom. before he could express approval at your outfit, you marched over at him and shoved his phone to his face. “wha-”

“sung hanbin, i am not going out with a guy called ‘big mts’. i draw the line here.”

he merely laughed at your words and at the look you sent his way. he knew you were going to give him another one of your rants.

you wiggled the phone in front of his face then you sucked in a deep breath before yapping, “he sounds repulsive. how could you be friends with him? what kind of nickname is that? who calls himself that? do you really want to send poor little me with a person who seems to be as ridiculous and egotistical as ‘big mts’? nevermind that he called me cute. are you even listening? stop laughing. i will call your mom.”

like a spirit drawn to the pleas of mortals, the doorbell rang interrupting your spiel. you sighed in defeat knowing ‘big mts’ is here. hanbin turned to walk over to your front door. you followed close behind him.

“seriously, hanbin, can’t we just ignore him? what kind of name is ‘big mts’?” you huffed as the doorbell rang again.

“you’ll see,” he cryptically replied. hanbin opened the door. he greeted his friend enthusiastically— “matthew!” —they hugged each other. when they pulled away from the hug, hanbin revealed someone who was not as repulsive as you thought.

you wish you could eat your words.

standing right there by your door was a man. he had a well bulked up build. a silver chain adorned his neck. his biceps were exposed by his sleeveless top. his chest stretching his shirt out. thoughts were racing in your head and none of them were pg rated. it wasn't your fault he had a very big... heart. you could only hope you didn’t look pathetic right now checking him out. you understood why he was ‘big mts’. you could see it with your own eyes. you wondered what else is big...

hanbin stifled a chuckle as he nudged you. well, shit, you probably did look pathetic right now.

“hi i’m matthew.” he said, looking at you with an amused smile. his adorable smile was a stark contrast to his body. holy fuck, you felt so shallow right now.

you looked down as he extended his hand at you. even his hands looked good. it would've looked even better if it was around your neck. (but what would be best if it was his biceps choking you.)

ah, you were about to cry. you were the freak, not him.

you grabbed his hand and shook it with no hesitation. you enjoyed his warm smooth skin. “you ready to go?” he asked after you shook hands.

“yes! i am! let’s go!” you replied with much eagerness that surprised all three of you. matthew nodded a goodbye to hanbin.

“jiwoong’s right,” you muttered to hanbin as you gave him a hug of thanks and farewell. hallelujah to the caring, determined (and nosy) sung hanbin for introducing you to his friend.

you gave a matthew a brief look, eyes moving over his handsome face and mouthwatering form, before whispering again to hanbin, “oh, i’m so going to fuck him.”

a/n: tgif! here's a silly little fic as dialogue practice because i truly feel my forte isn't with dialogues. i was actually writing another fic during my break earlier but then i decided to do this. when i remembered hanbin has matthew saved as big mts on his phone, it went downhill from that. i also didn't plan on posting this because i only wanted to put all my smut brainrot in this blog but then eh. sorry for my attempts at humour btw??? might do a part two if anyone wants???? smut???

divider credit: saradika-graphics

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

☁️ - fluff 🙈 - angst ‼️ - smut

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[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

Y'know, for a series that's themed so heavily around deception, misplaced trust, and things not being as great as they seem, it's so interesting to me how we have a total of three characters who have stories that involve a powerful, wealthy individual manipulating them and causing them or their loved ones harm during times of financial struggle or straight-up poverty XF-Ture Tech greeted the impoverish Jeung family with the offer to pay off all of their expenses, only at the cost of their daughter, Min, becoming the Ultimate Student 12 years down the line. This led Min from ages five to seventeen to work away her entire life to achieve this goal, turning her into the perfect image of an Ultimate that Hope's Peak Academy wanted to see, at the cost of her childhood and her autonomy.

Min: I don't know why that man would sponsor some random child, nor why it would be me of all people. And I never had the time nor space to figure out the answer to that question. Min: Failure was not something I even considered, because if I failed, then there would be no future for me or my family. Min: I had simply accepted for my whole life that I would be the Ultimate Student, and I lived my life accordingly. That's why the Academy chose me.

The Lacroix family was sent into a river of debt by their daughter Rose, and when all hope seemed to be lost, Richard Spurling offered to clear her charges and pay off her fines if she decided to work under him as a painter for the Spurling Foundation. Any semblance of herself in Rose's works has now dissipated, her sense of identity only tied to the contract she signed with an angelic devil.

Rose: Forever working to pay off my mistakes, and never being able to call my art my own... This isn't the life of an artist that I wanted. It's not what anyone would want. Rose: All I do is make paintings on others' beck and call. It's been so long that I don't think I remember how to paint something original anymore. Rose: That spark of vitality is missing from anything I make. Like this painting. And I can't help but feel like I'm missing a part of myself.

Little is known about the details of Xander's story at this time, but we know enough to know that he falls into this category too. The Matthews family lived in a town with an understaffed hospital and a river as their only water source, leaving them unprepared for an incident that would gruesomely wipe them out. Meanwhile, Duke Spurling, a wealthy man in extreme power being a politician, who instead of using his power for good was, from what we can tell, sitting on his dollar bills while the innocents around him lost function in their limbs.

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It's just really interesting to me how this is a theme across all three characters, and I can't help but wonder if this will carry over to some of the other characters as well.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 1 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your Step Father would like to introduce you into high society but you're required to take lessons to learn how to play the part and from your instructor's perspective it seems like you have a lot of catching up to do. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Explicit Language, not really anything else at this point lol a/n: Planning on turning this into a short series so please let me know what you think <3 p.s. this is horribly edited and was written in one sitting lol

"Why do I have to suffer the consequences of the decisions you made for this family?" I say chasing after my mother as she walks down the main hallway in our new home. "Y/n becoming a debutant is not a consequence" she says, making her way into the main living room.

"To me it is" I complain, dreading this entire ordeal already. "The whole process only lasts about a year so-" "A year? You expect me to be parade around in pretty dresses and entertain people I have absolutely no interest in just because you decided to marry a rich man? Yeah, no I'm not doing it" I say, watching as she takes a seat on the couch waiting for me to tell her my grievances, knowing that I won't back down easily. 

"It's not a huge commitment I promise. You'll have etiquette lessons twice a week, go to a fitting every once in a while and take dance lessons once a week. I'm sure you can sacrifice a few hours out of your week for this. "Your father wa-" "Step father" I cut her off, making my stance on the man known. "Your step father wants to introduce you as his daughter and the best way to do so would be having you come out at a debutant ball" she explains hoping to show me their reasoning behind it. "Oh I'm straight so don't worry I won't be needing a coming out event or anything like that" I say teasing her. 

"Very funny" she says clearly unamused, "I would really appreciate it if you just did this for us, and if you don't want to do it for us then do it for you, for your future. Do you know how pivotal this moment could be for you? A lot of important people go to these balls so if you want to make a name for yourself in this city then that's a great place to start" she says hoping to entice me, showing how this could benefit me as well. "Just think about it, okay?" she says standing up to leave the room and placing a hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, leaving me conflicted. 

A few days later at the breakfast table I finally decide to give them my answer. "Um, dad" I say hoping to get his attention. "Yes honey?" he says putting down the newspaper that he had just been flipping through. "I think I want to go through with the whole debutant thing if you still wanted me to" I say playing with my sleeve, still unsure of the choice I've made but I guess theres no going back now. "That's great! I'll contact the agency and get all of your lessons set up straight away" he says quickly texting his assistant, asking them to get things set in motion.

"Would you prefer private lessons or would you like to take them with some of the other girls that are preparing to come out as well?" he questions, still looking down at his phone. "Oh it's okay don't worry about getting her pri-" "Private lessons would be great" I say cutting my mom off. The less interactions I can have with these spoiled rich kids, the better. I send her a tight lipped smile, telling her to back off before I change my mind and she does just that. 

"Alright, I have Matthew working on it now so we could probably get everything set up by the time your classes end. You finish up at four right?" he asks, catching me off guard, "You know my class schedule?" I question. "Of course I do! What kind of father would I be if I didn't pay attention to my daughter's academics?" he says, giving me a warm smile before taking one last sip of his coffee, standing up to go. 

"I've gotta head off, love you" he says giving my mother a quick peck and then coming over to me to give me a kiss on the top of my head. "Have a good day you two" he says to us as his final adieu, heading out to where his driver is waiting for him. "Thank you" my mother says, happy with the effort I'm putting into assimilating our family. "I'm doing this for you guys, but I'm also doing this for me like you had said, I guess I'll just have to suffer through it for the next year" I say, already questioning myself. 

"I promise you won't regret it!" she reassures me, reaching out for my hand across the table and I mirror her action. 'I sure hope not' I say to myself and give her a pained smile before leaving to head off to class. 

"You're what?" my friend Jesse say, not believing a word I just said. "I'm gonna start taking lessons to become a debutante" I say, repeating myself, hoping he'll just take in the information so we can move past it. "So you're blowing me off so you can go to Barbie school?" he says, still in disbelief. "It's not Barbie school" I say rolling my eyes at him before sitting down at the table we usually hang out at during our breaks. 

"Aren't they going to be dressing you up and making you all girly so you can go to tea parties and balls?" he questions, sitting across from me. "Yes..." I say trailing off not being able to prove him wrong. "Barbie school" he says satisfied with himself, taking a bite out of the apple he had just bought for dramatic affect. "Whatever" I say crossing my arms across my chest. "So when do you start?" he asks, suddenly curious about the topic. "Matthew sent me a text with the address I'm supposed to go to for my first etiquette lesson so I guess I'll be headed there after class. 

"And Matthew is...?" he questions, "My dad's assistant, I've told you this like five times already" I say rolling my eyes at him. "I'm sorry okay, there have been a lot of changes in your life and brand new characters added to the cast so it's hard to keep it all straight" he explains. "Name one other person besides Matthew that I've told you about" I say with a raised brow, curious as to who these 'new characters' might be. "Your step dad" he says proudly, not elaborating further. 

"Anyone else?" I ask, rolling my eyes at the cop out answer he gave me and he decides to sit in silence after putting little to no thought into anyone else I might've told him about. "Do you even know his name?" I scoff, feigning irritation. "Scott? No Thomas!" he says confident in his second answer. "It's James" I say standing up and grabbing my stuff so I can walk towards my next class. 

"I'm sorry, you know I have shit memory" he says throwing his arm around my shoulder after catching up to me, having only been a few steps behind. "I know" I shake my head laughing it off, "It's funny how clueless you are sometimes" I say, shrugging his arm off of me. "Hey!" he whines, semi offended. "It's okay though, I still love you" I say waving him off as we part in different directions and blowing a kiss at him which he bats off to the side, rejecting my love. "Later loser" he says and we head off to our respective classes.

After the lecture is finally over my professor calls me to the front. "Yes?" I question, waiting for what he has to tell me. "I read your paper last night" he starts, "I'm sorry Professor I had some other assignments due at the same time so I wasn't able to put in as much effort as I wanted to" I confess feeling guilty about putting that assignment on the back burner. "Well I was actually going to tell you that I was rather impressed with it" he says looking up at me from his seated position at his desk, fixing his glasses. 

"Really?" I question, surprised that it was good enough for him to even single out. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in participating in this writing contest at the end of next month" he proposes and hands me the flyer showing all of the details. "You really think my writing is good enough?" I question, not even having considered signing up for something like this. "I wouldn't be speaking to you about it if I didn't think it was" he says laughing at my reactions. 

"This would be amazing thank you!" I say starting to skim through the details real quick. "You can take that with you if you'd like" he offers and at that I nod in thanks and say my goodbyes before walking out and heading out towards my car. 

"Now where exactly is this place?" I ask myself aloud, pulling up the text I got and putting the address into my gps. "45 minutes?" I say in astonishment, now slightly panicked seeing that even if I leave now I'll still be 10 minutes late. "What the hell Matthew?" I curse and put my seatbelt on, speeding out of the parking lot and down the street, praying that I'll be able to somehow shave a few minutes off the eta to make it in time.

"Punctuality is one of the most important aspects of proper etiquette" I hear the man say to me with his back turned as I walk into the area of his home he has dedicated to these lessons. "I'm very sorry I did not realize how far these lessons would be in relation to my University" I apologize hating that I've already made a bad impression which has clearly started us off on the wrong foot. 

"Proper planning is also something you must consider to be able to maintain a certain sense of decorum before arriving to your intended destination" he says still with his back to me. "I apologize again Mr. Jeon it won't happen again" I say using what I hope is the proper way he would like to be addressed. "See that it doesn't" he says finally turning around to face me. I nod my head in acknowledgement and he gives me a sour look showing he's displeased with my response. 

"One must verbally respond to properly communicate with one another" he says, placing his hands behind his back and interlocking his fingers while walking towards me and stalking around me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Understood" I respond and once he finally comes back around facing me he looks me up and down one last time before uttering another word. 

"For your next lesson be sure to come in a dress or skirt that sits at the knee as well as stockings and heels of some sort and a blouse of course to pair with the skirt. If one wants to act like a lady, one must dress like a lady" he says and turns away to grab something in the corner of the room. "Noted" I say under my breath already exasperated, "What was that?" he questions looking over his shoulder at me, sorting through a few books to bring over. "Understood Mr. Jeon" I say, trying to play along and follow his rules.

"Seeing as we need to start from the very beginnings of the art of etiquette I need you to read these books by this time next week" he says handing me five very large books weighing my arms down and requiring me to stumble back to regain my balance. "All of them in a week? That's almost a book a day!" I say surprised by the workload I've been given after not even starting the actual lesson yet.

"I was not aware of the fact I would be required to teach you everything from the very start so let's just say we both have a lot of work to do" he says and motions towards a place I can set my purse down along with my five new headaches for this next week.

"Take a seat here please" he now motions to a chair that he has placed in the middle of the room waiting for me to do as he says. I walk up cautiously and take a seat, sitting on it like I normally would, knowing that he's meant to critique how I sit to change it. "Sit up straight, roll your shoulders back" he says taking in my posture at all angles while I follow along with his orders. "Loosen the tension in your back and shoulders" he says placing his hands on my shoulders from behind making me tense up even more from the unexpected contact. 

"You've done the opposite of what I've asked you to" he says and I can hear how fed up with me he continues to be. "You startled me, I didn't realize you were going to do that" I say under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. "One must never mumble or talk back to anyone no matter the circumstances. Especially aimed to or in front of an authority figure" he says and walks back around to face me again. "So you see yourself as an authority figure to me?" I question, curious to see what his answer might be.

"I see myself as someone who deserves your respect and obedience" he says and tilts my chin up with his pointer finger maintaining purposeful eye contact. "And you will treat me as such". 

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[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 29]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.4k

ao3 link

Foggy never thought he would be babysitting Matthew Murdock’s kid.

As much as Foggy loves Matt - and it is a lot - he is the first to admit his best friend is more than a bit of a disaster. Matt is brilliant and kind and truly a good soul, but he is also a self-destructive idiot with more baggage than any airport in the nation. He always tries to do the right thing, but the right thing never seems to involve taking care of himself. And that doesn’t even include all the Daredevil bullshit.

If Matt had come to him a few months ago and told Foggy he wanted to be a father - to go out and have a kid at that exact moment - Foggy would have beat him over the head with the nearest solid object. Matt can barely run his own life - there was no way he could raise a child.

Matt was still working on even managing to have friends and a real life outside of his mask and his ability to balance it all had been on thin ice. Matt getting into a serious relationship had been a laughable idea and that relationship leading to a baby wasn’t even a thought. 

As far as Foggy had been concerned, as long as he was Daredevil, Matt was destined to be a bachelor. 

So, of course, God’s favorite punching bag was told he already is a father. 

The change in Matt isn’t what Foggy expected. He expected panic. He expected Matt to be in Church for eight hours a day praying for guidance while he had a crisis. He expected Matt to spiral.

He hadn’t expected him to take to being a father like a duck to water. He hadn’t expected it to completely rewrite his best friend’s DNA. 

It seemed like overnight the dumpster fire of a man he knew was replaced - born from those ashes was someone who Foggy almost didn’t recognize. 

It was a Matt who cares about himself. One who isn't being reckless. One who no longer hides things from Foggy and Karen, who lies about injuries and thinks he is a one-man army. 

In the office, if Matt isn’t working, he’s listening to self-help or parenting books. He talks to other people, and he actually makes an effort to not look like he’s getting abused. He’s focused in a way Foggy hasn’t seen since college and it makes Foggy so so happy. 

But it also terrifies him because he doesn’t know how long it will last. Is this a temporary change or has Matt finally learned he isn’t alone, and his actions affect others?

It is too early to tell and Foggy feels like a complete asshole for doubting his friend and waiting for the ball to drop, but he feels like he’s also being realistic. 

Matt has hurt him so much over their friendship - and Foggy has hurt him, too - and his sweet angel of a child doesn’t deserve to have that be a possibility for her. 

As far as Foggy can tell, Minnie inherited all the best parts of Matt - his smile, his charm, and his inherently good nature. He knows if Matt doesn’t manage to fuck it up - and Foggy prays he doesn’t - she is going to grow up to be a beautiful woman, heart and soul, with no reason to yell at God. 

He couldn’t ask for a better little girl to babysit. 

All she wants to do is watch Lady and the Tramp over and over and Foggy couldn’t be happier to oblige. It is easy to sit back and watch the movie - he hasn't seen it in a long time, and he forgot how charming all the characters are.

It is halfway through the third viewing of the movie when big brown eyes finally tear themselves away from the screen. Foggy watches curiously as Minnie slips off the couch and toddles over to her toy chest in the corner of the room. She methodically begins going through her things, lifting up each toy and giving it a good once over before setting it back down.

“What’cha doing, squirt?” he asks.

Minnie does not look back to him as she replies, her tone making him feel like it is the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m gonna make dinner.” 

Dinner was had before Foggy arrived for babysitting duty, so he guesses it is time for some make believe. He is very much used to this from watching over his nieces and he wonders what kind of play will be in store for him. 

The first toy she deems worthy to have a seat at the table is a Barbie and the second, almost immediately after, is a floppy looking bear that clearly has had another life before this one. The pair are transported to the coffee table and delicately sat down before Minnie whips her head around to look up at Foggy.

“They need says-or-eases,” she says seriously. He can barely get out a confused ‘okay’ before she’s scampering down the hallway to the bedroom. He decides to sit and wait to see what is going to happen. Moments later, the little girl is back in the living room with an armful of supplies. He can make out a lot of costume jewelry, and among the fake pearls and gems, a pair of fake glasses. 

It is all dumped in front of the table unceremoniously before she is off to collect something else. 

Foggy stays on the couch as markers and a variety of play food join the pile on the floor. He has no idea what could be going on in the mind of the toddler, but it is amusing that she is so determined in her task.

Finally, everything is gathered and Minnie plops down in front of her toys, mouth turned down as she focuses. She starts sorting through things, making multiple little piles, and Foggy can’t help but ask, “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m a Big Girl,” she replies factually, not even bothering to look up. She’s completely locked in on whatever it is she is doing, and since she’s doing nothing deemed risky, Foggy lets his eyes go back to the movie. 

As Lady roams the streets of some unnamed city, Minnie dresses up her toys. Barbie gets draped in so many necklaces her torso is no longer visible, and the bear gets the glasses. She hums and haws over the positioning on his muzzle for a good minute before she takes them off and disappears from Foggy’s eyeline. Her feet pop up a second later and he determines she is laying tummy down on the ground.

He checks his phone as she plays - replying to messages from Marci and Karen and going through a few work emails. 

He is in the middle of checking his calendar when Minnie’s curls reappear in front of him and she is back to trying to balance the glasses on the bear’s face.

Except, now, the lens of the glasses have been colored over in red marker and Foggy knows exactly who the floppy bear is meant to be.

“Is that your Daddy?” he asks, not at all containing the glee in his voice. Karen is going to Love this. 

“Uh-huh,” the baby tells him as she finally manages to get the accessory to stay on. She grabs the doll next and holds it up to show it off. “This is Mommy.”

“That’s Mommy?” Foggy confirms. He quickly switches his phone over to his camera app to start taking a million and a half pictures.

“Uh-huh. They are on a date. Like Lady and Tramp,” she explains, “We gotta make them dinner.”

His heart absolutely soars and he knows this is one of those stories he is going to tell everyone - Matt’s precious little daughter pretending her toys are her parents on a date, while her real parents are out on their first date. It is some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen and he’s glad he’s the one who agreed to babysit. 

He pushes himself up into standing, so ready to get in on this make believe action, “Of course. What are we making them for dinner?”

They spend the next five minutes rearranging things - the play kitchen set is moved into the real kitchen and Foggy drapes a throw blanket between two chairs so the dining guests can’t see the food being prepared. Mommy Doll and Daddy Bear get a plastic Pooh Bear plate between them, and an LED candle is scrounged up to give the date the right ambience. 

Foggy gets designated as the Waiter - he even slicks his hair back and lets Minnie draw a pencil mustache under her nose and she, of course, is the Chef, as well as puppeteer of the toys. 

Once everything is set up - the make believe begins.

“Oh, ho, hon,” Foggy says in a horrible French accent as he kneels beside the coffee table, a pad of paper and a pen in hand. “What a lovely couple! You are looking so beautiful this evening, mademoiselle!” 

“Thank you!” Minnie chimes, altering her voice just a little to be higher as she takes hold of the doll to make it bounce as it ‘talks’. “You are beauty-fulls too!” She then grabs the bear with her other hand and shakes him just a bit, making him sound gruff as he chastises, “What about me?”

“You are as handsome as ever, sir,” is his cheesy reply. With too much flourish, he brings up his pen and positions it on his paper, “What drinks can I get started for you? Water? Juice? Wine? May I suggest a bit of hot cocoa?” He over emphasizes the last word, making the little girl start to giggle.

“We don’ts have cocoa! Only water and appy juice!”

Foggy dramatically throws his hand over his heart, “My apologies! The chef has let me know our options tonight are Water de Aqua and Appy Juice.”

“We want appy juice!” Daddy Bear tells him, and he makes sure to write the order in nice big letters.

“A wonderful selection, sir! We get it from the finest grocer, and it is chilled to perfection. Shall I get you started with some appetizers?”

Minnie squints over to him, tilting her head to the side and doing a wonderful impression of Matt as she asks, “What is an appy-tiger?”

“It is a snack you get before dinner, so you don’t get hungry while the Chef makes the food,” he explains in his normal voice. 

The toddler nods like she really understands what he means, then she turns her two toys to face each other. Mommy Doll is moved first, “Do you want an appy-tiger?” 

Daddy Bear’s head nods as Minnie grumbles out, “I want a cheese stick and ice-cream. Please, thank you.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” Mommy Doll replies. She is turned towards Foggy so hard her necklaces clatter together, “I want a cheese stick, too. Please, thank you.”

He writes down the request and promises, “That will be right out.” As he pushes himself up onto his feet, Minnie streaks past him to get to her kitchen before him. He purposefully takes his time, letting her get herself set up before he arrives. “Order up! We got two cheese sticks and an ice cream for the couple at table one.”

“Two cheese sticks and ice cream!” The little girl calls back excitedly. She moves to start digging through her plastic food, but then she freezes, and she gets a look on her face Foggy has seen so many times on Matt’s that he’s lost count.

She’s heard something. 

Before Foggy can ask what it is, the unmistakable sound of a fuse being blown fills the air and the power dies, leaving them in a deep darkness. A brief panic takes a hold of him - he’s been in far too many situations where this sort of thing means danger - but logic prevails, and he rushes over to the window to assess the damage. 

The neighboring buildings still have their lights on, so someone in the building must have overloaded something. It happens all the time in the heat of the summer and not a cause for him to go into fight or flight mode.

“Looks like it is just us,” he tells Minnie as he turns back to her. He can only just barely make out her outline - there is only one window in the room, and it faces an alley. There is next to no light filtering in and the only thing still going in the apartment is the weak LED candle.

He expects Minnie to be scared - after all the sudden lack of light is kind of terrifying - but she seems completely unaffected. 

“The tee-vee turned off,” is what she replies with, sounding annoyed as can be. 

“Everything turned off,” Foggy counters. “We’ve got no electricity. We have to wait for it to come back on.”

He hears her huff as he makes his way back to the couch. He’s careful as he moves, not wanting to accidentally crush any of the playthings that have been spread around. 

“Do you still want to play Dinner Date?” He asks. It is pretty dark, but if they just stick with going between the couch and the fake-kitchen, he thinks things should be okay. 

“No, I wanna watch Lady and Tramp.” There is a slight whine in her voice that makes him think this might turn into tears and his heart breaks a little. He doesn’t want to be the one to deny her anything. 

“The power is out, squirt. The television isn’t going to work. We have to do something that doesn’t require power.” 

“Why?” He can hear the underlying Murdock Anger in her question, and he notes it is something he’ll have to tell Matt.

“Do you know how it usually makes this sort of noise?” Foggy asks before humming. He can sometimes hear electricity, so he knows she must know what he’s talking about. She confirms with a little ‘uh-huh’ and he continues on. “Well, that means it is getting power and can work. It’s not getting power right now, so it can’t work.”

He hopes the logic makes sense in her little brain. 

She doesn’t respond right away and that worries him. He plucks the little LED candle up from the coffee table and holds it up like a torch. It barely casts enough light for him to see his hand and does nothing to help him locate the curly haired toddler. 

He walks slowly over to the kitchen, hoping to find her pouting by her toys, but the area is empty. He did not hear the pitter patter of feet and groans at the thought of another ninja in his life. 

Of course, Matt’s child would be able to sneak around in the dark undetected. Why wouldn’t she?

“Minnie,” he calls out softly, hoping this doesn’t turn into a game of hide and seek. “Where are you?” 

He turns in place, trying to remember if he left his phone on the table or on the couch. The battery is in the forty percent zone, and he’d rather save it than use it as a light source. He’s pretty sure he was told there are flashlights under the sink, but he can’t remember if it was the kitchen or bathroom sink. 

He decides to try the kitchen sink first and blindly makes his way there. He admittedly doesn’t have the best vision anymore and his eyes are taking forever to adjust to the meager amount of light, so he has to move slowly.

“Will you read me Lady and Tramp?” a tiny voice suddenly asks from right beside his knee and Foggy totally doesn’t scream.

“You totally need a bell,” he tells the child before rubbing at his face with his candle free hand. “If you help me find a flashlight, I can read to you.”

The noise of annoyance Minnie makes is right from Matt’s playbook, “why do you needs a flashlight?”

He wonders if this is the first power outage she has experienced, but if that was so, he doubts he would have been told where the flashlights were. Though, Minnie’s mom is a bit paranoid and anxious, so it could have been a ‘just in case’ thing, but who really knows.

It is a question for later. Right now, he has an annoyed toddler ready to bite his ankles over Lady and the Tramp.

“It’s too dark for me to read,” he tries to explain, hoping she will accept the answer. 

She doesn’t.

Instead, he gets sassed.

“It’s not dark.”

“It is, too,” he counters. 

He can perfectly picture little hands-on hips as she doubts him, “Not-uh.”

He resists the urge to say ‘uh-huh’ and attempts to rationalize with her, “Mouse, I can barely see past my nose. It’s too dark for me to read to you without a flashlight. Can you help me find one?”

He can just see her curly head of hair looking up at him and he doesn’t need to see her face to feel her judgement. With the huff so haughty it could rival Marci, Minnie plops down to the ground and drops something that sounds like a picture book in front of her. 

His suspicions are proved right when he hears the soft fluttering of pages. 

“El…ay..dee..why. El..ay..La! La..dee…Lay..dee..Lady!” Her little voice is full of frustration as she tries to sound out the word Foggy knows she can’t really see and his heart pangs in sympathy.

“Minnie, don’t strain your eyes. Let’s just find a flashlight, it’s too dark to read.”

“I want Lady and Tramp!” The little Murdock barks at him, “I can reads it!” He hears what must be her finger hitting the page and he pictures her trying to trace the words. “La..La..lady. Lady. wuh…wuh..double-you ay ess. Wuh…Wuh-ah…Wuh-ah..”

“Was?” he tries to supply, feeling so guilty. He should just step away and find the flashlight before she really hurts her eyes, but he doesn’t want to leave her when she’s getting into a mood, even if it’s a few feet.

Apparently, helping is not what she wants, because he instantly gets her tiny wrath, “I can reads it myselfs!”

Foggy’s hands shoot up in front of him in the universal ‘my bad’ pose and he apologies, “I’m sorry. Let me get the light and we can read together.” He decides, if anything, he’ll just go grab his phone and waste the battery. Anything is better than upsetting Minnie the first time he properly babysits her. She’ll never want to stay with him again and he’s pretty sure Matt would easily bend to her will. 

“But I can sees it!” She practically yells it at him, her voice getting wet and wobbly. There is a hint of desperation in it that makes Foggy feel like an absolute villain for not believing her. “I can sees it and reads it by myself!”

He gives up on trying to convince her and pivots to go to get his phone. As he carefully steps around her to find his way back to the couch, she picks up her watery ‘reading’ again.

“La..Lady wuh-was a…Lady was a..el..el you..el you see kay…”

Foggy locates his phone on the coffee table and it wakes up as soon as he picks it up. The light hurts his eyes, and he has to look away so he isn’t blinded by it. 

Daddy Bear looks up at him from his interrupted coffee table date, beady little black eyes hidden behind red lenses and so suddenly, with enough force to cause him mental whiplash, Foggy feels like a complete idiot. 

He turns to shine his phone on Minnie, who is hunched over her book, trying her very best to sound out the words. 

“See..Kay…Luh…Luh..see..kay..why..Luh see kay why.”

She is trying to read the word ‘lucky ’he realizes. He knows kids can memorize stories, but there’s no way such a little baby can memorize how to spell all the words and pretend to read them out loud. 

But this isn’t just any normal little baby. 

This is Matt Murdock’s little baby. 

Matt Murdock - who has enhanced senses and passed them on. 

Matt Murdock - who is blind and wouldn’t know what it would be like to have enhanced eyesight. 

“Holy shit,” Foggy says to himself. “She’s got dark vision.”

--

a/n :

i'm sorry, this chapter fought me so much. Foggy refuses to cooperate with me :( this is nothing like i was planning and I kinda hate it

--

tags:

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer  @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[bellaxgiornata]

Break the Tension [Chapter One "The Arrival"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: When Marci first asked you to be the Maid of Honor at her and Foggy’s wedding, you'd already been forewarned that your old college rival from Columbia, Matthew Murdock, would be Foggy’s Best Man. And while you'd expected a long weekend filled with tension between the pair of you, you hadn't anticipated all of the sexual tension–or the sex.

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: This is a short series (planned for seven parts) and I just really needed to get the idea out of my head. This is definitely not my usual Matt x Reader dynamic nor the usual cocky Matt in an enemies to lovers fic; you'll see why even more in chapter two. Let's just say Matt needs the smug wiped off his face and I wanted to see him desperate. Feedback is always appreciated! The chapter list can be found here!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705

The taxi driver hefted your suitcase out of the trunk of his car, setting it onto the circular gravel driveway beside you with an audible huff of exertion. You watched as he wiped a hand across his forehead, one hand still holding the hanger of your dress high above your head so the white garment bag wouldn't drag along the ground. 

“Thank you,” you said, arm already growing tired from holding up your dress.

The man closed the trunk of the taxi, turning around and sending you a friendly smile. “Of course, miss,” he replied. “I hope you have a lovely weekend. Certainly looks like a nice place you’re staying at.”

You laughed lightly in return, wishing the man a good day before he turned and headed back to the driver’s side of the car. Lifting up the handle of your suitcase that you'd brought for the weekend, you turned and focused on the grand building before you. It was easily two levels tall with trails of ivy growing along most of the stone exterior between the numerous large windows. The manor itself was impressive with two wings branching off either side of the main building. The front driveway you were currently standing on led up to a walkway that wound between an impressive garden of hedges and flowers. In the center was a large fountain, and the peaceful sound of the water spewing forth met your ears once the taxi had finally driven off behind you.

The venue was massive, boasting quite an expansive plot of acreage that it was nestled inside–or so Marci had told you during all the wedding planning. A long, winding road encompassed by trees on either side had led up to Fairfield Manor, and not too far behind the manor you'd spotted what looked like a forest when the taxi had pulled up. You were positive if you consumed too much alcohol this weekend and wandered outside past sunset, you'd surely end up lost.

As much as Marci had shown you photos of the place, gushing over it repeatedly to you about how perfect it was for her and Foggy’s wedding, the photos certainly hadn’t done it justice. 

Beginning to make your way up to the entrance of the manor, you walked towards the winding path which led through the stunning garden out front, carrying your dress and toting your luggage behind you. Seeing the place in person had left you wondering how Foggy and Marci had afforded this venue for an entire three days. You figured Foggy’s firm must’ve been doing well because Marci’s salary alone couldn't possibly have paid for everything. Though with how extravagant it was, it most certainly screamed Marci.

This weekend the entire bridal party, along with Marci and Foggy’s immediate family, were staying here for the duration of the wedding festivities. Tonight you were practicing the rehearsal for the wedding ceremony here at the venue before heading to a nearby restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. Tomorrow was the big wedding day itself, which meant an early morning start for hair and makeup during breakfast, followed by an incredibly long day and probably a drunken evening. Then on Sunday Marci had scheduled a late morning brunch before everyone departed the manor, allowing a bit more time to visit before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon.

Coming to a stop before the large, ornate wooden door that seemed to tower over you, you released the handle of your luggage long enough to push it open. Immediately you were met with the sound of voices and loud, boisterous laughter coming from a hall to your right as the door swung wide into the foyer. Though as you began to pull your suitcase into the building, still juggling your garment bag in your other hand, your ears picked up on the sound of a familiar voice. One you hadn't heard in a long time.

One that instantly set you on edge.

It was annoying that he was here. Of course you'd expected it–Marci had warned you ahead of time–but actually seeing him again this weekend was going to be another story. 

Matthew Murdock. The cocky fuck boy of Columbia who thought he was smarter than you, always going out of his way to show you up and point out your every mistake because one time you had embarrassed him by correcting him in class. He was an asshole, always so irritatingly ethical for a man who slept around without a care for anyone's feelings. Though of course he'd never flirted with you , always choosing to argue with you instead. And when graduation day had come, he'd certainly rubbed it in your face that he'd been top of the class. 

Though what he hadn't known was that you'd spent most of your time busting your ass working at a coffee shop just to try to pay what the scholarships wouldn't cover of your tuition while your mother was struggling with a cancer diagnosis. Thankfully she'd gone into remission not long after you'd graduated, but still, Matthew Murdock had made college miserable for you on top of everything you’d had going on. And you'd despised him for it.

So you certainly weren't excited to see him this weekend.

Setting your luggage down and turning back around to close the heavy door after yourself, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and remain calm. You were here for Marci, after all. This weekend was a big moment for her and you were excited and grateful to be a part of everything. She was one of your best friends. And truthfully you'd never had issues with Franklin Nelson. He had at least always been cordial and friendly to you. 

So you weren’t going to think about him .

The moment you’d shut the door with a solid thud , you heard your name being excitedly called from behind you. Spinning around with a smile already plastered across your face, you spotted Marci with outstretched arms racing towards you across the foyer. Her short, flowy white dress fluttered around her legs as she nearly jumped on you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You’re finally here!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering when you’d show up!”

"Sorry, I got caught up at work," you told her, squeezing her just as tightly back the best you could with your dress still in hand. "Had some details to finalize before I was gone for the weekend and you know how Sheridan gets."

Marci pulled away from you, rolling her eyes at the mention of your boss. 

"I do, in fact," she answered. "But you're here now so let's not talk about work! Come on, let's get your things to your room. It's almost time for the rehearsal."

Grabbing your luggage handle you followed Marci down the hallway, wheeling your bag behind you in one hand and now no longer as concerned about the garment bag dragging along the floor in your other, your arm tired from holding it above your head for so long already. As the pair of you walked, you could see a group of others that you assumed were the bridal party already congregating about midway down the hall, drinks in their hands and dress clothes on. The sight was a reminder that you’d still have to change quickly before the events of the evening because you hadn’t wanted to stay in the dress slacks and blouse you had worn to work earlier for the duration of the evening. 

"I take it I'm the last one to arrive then?" you asked Marci.

The sound of both of your heels clicking along the marble floor echoed around the elaborate hallway as the pair of you walked. Your eyes scanned each painting lining the walls that you passed, noticing each one was a beautiful watercolor of a picturesque scene. Overhead you noticed the ornate chandeliers hanging down, the crystal glinting in the light. Truthfully this place was stunning. 

"Yes, but that's alright," Marci answered, waving a hand. "I appreciate that you sent a text as a forewarning though. But," she continued, glancing at you over her shoulder and wincing before she leaned in to whisper, "that also means you're the last to pick a room. So you sort of…don't get to pick."

Shoulders sagging, you shot Marci a flat look. "What's that supposed to mean? Is the heat not working in it or something? Or it's haunted by a hundred year old ghost?"

Marci shook her head, a sheepish smile on her face. "No, it just means the only room left is the one…next to Matt’s," she answered softly. 

You came to an abrupt halt, stopping dead in your tracks and closing your eyes. Your first instinct was to turn around and call that taxi back to see if you could catch a ride back to the city. It was bad enough you'd have to be cordial to Matt this weekend, but you certainly did not want to interact with him more than necessary. 

But you were here for Marci this weekend, you reminded yourself again. It was only for a few days that you’d be staying here and having to run into him, and then you'd go back to never running into him again in the city. And it would be heaven. Inhaling a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face as you focused back on Marci.

“I know you both never really got along but–”

"It’s okay," you replied slowly, shaking your head. "So our rooms are next to each other for a few days? Not a big deal," you said, trying to convince yourself just as much as Marci. "Doesn't mean I'll have to talk to him. Or see him. Or anything more than necessary."

"Right," Marci agreed, nodding quickly. "Exactly. You two only need to interact for the wedding and the rehearsal a bit.” 

With a sigh you grabbed your luggage, continuing to make your way back down the hall with Marci at your side. But as the pair of you began to pass the group of bridal party members already loudly conversing with Foggy, you heard them call out to Marci, begging her to stay and join them. Attention shifting to the group, your eyes almost instantly landed on Matt standing just beside Foggy. Your jaw clenched at the sight of him, your hand tightening around the handle of your luggage as your back stiffened.

He was dressed in a nice pair of slacks, a white dress shirt with a dark red tie, and a dark suit coat. He'd apparently switched out those black rectangular glasses he always wore in college, exchanging them for some round ones with red lenses. Admittedly they looked good on him, which only annoyed you further. Because of course he'd grown more attractive in the years since you'd last seen him–he even seemed broader and somehow more muscular under that fitted suit coat with the buttons of his dress shirt straining at the seams. Though you had a strong feeling he was probably still the same flirty asshole you remembered him as, maybe even worse now since he could throw around that he had his own law firm. And the stupid smile on his face as his head turned in your direction only irritated you.

"I'll be back in a minute," Marci told the group. She said your name, telling them you'd just arrived. "I was going to show her to her room. Help her get settled first."

"No, that's alright. Go on," you assured her, gesturing your head to the group. "I can find the room on my own. I need to change anyway and then I can join everyone."

"You sure?" Marci asked carefully, focusing back on you.

"Yeah, don't worry about me," you replied.

And that’s when you heard it. Matt saying your name, the sound of it on his lips causing your eyes to narrow as your head turned slowly back towards him. It had been so long since you’d heard him say it, yet it still had your blood boiling almost instantly. The smug smirk that quickly grew on his mouth wasn't helping, either.

"Showing up late?” Matt teased you. “Even after all these years, you still need to make everyone wait on you?”

You bit back the comment forming on your tongue. This was not the time nor the place and you certainly weren’t going to let him openly get a rise out of you in front of everyone. Though it didn’t escape your notice when Foggy nudged Matt’s shoulder, leaning in and whispering something to him.

“Some of us had work to finish, Murdock ,” you countered briskly. Turning your attention back to Marci, you told her, “I’ll get changed fast and be right out. I won’t keep you waiting on me.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” Marci told you, shooting Matt a glare that you know Foggy saw. “We’ll be here a bit longer before we head down to the ceremony location out in the courtyard. And your room is just at the end of the hall,” she continued, pointing down the hallway. “Room twelve. On the right.”

You thanked her before continuing the rest of the way towards your room, fuming internally because you’d been here a matter of minutes and Matt was already getting under your skin. It didn’t bode well for the rest of this weekend.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and your focus fixed straight ahead on the wedding coordinator who was currently running over details about tomorrow’s ceremony with Foggy and Marci. The rest of the bridal party had been paired and lined up at the back of the courtyard behind you, all of you patiently awaiting instructions on what to do next. 

There was a lot of chatter coming from the group behind you, too. All of the other bridal party members were taking the time to get to know their partners, animatedly talking to each other. Unfortunately you being the Maid of Honor when Matt was the Best Man meant you two were stuck together for the wedding events this weekend. Currently you were doing your best to ignore his irksome presence beside you as he continued to tap his cane against the stone pavement, the repetitive sound causing you to grind your teeth back and forth. It didn’t help that you were forced to stand so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his body along your bare right arm, the heat of it raising goosebumps. But it was only because it was early fall and a little chilly outside; you couldn’t help it that the bit of warmth happened to feel good.

“So are you just planning to ignore me the entire weekend?” Matt asked softly, leaning slightly towards you as he spoke.

“I would prefer to, yes,” you answered simply.

Matt laughed bitterly, shaking his head. The gesture caught your attention and you glanced at him beside you through narrowed eyes.

“What?” you asked him.

“Just can’t believe you haven’t changed after all these years,” he replied.

Eyebrows shooting up onto your forehead at his comment, you gaped at him. Was he serious ?

“That’s funny coming from the self-important asshole who upon hearing I’m here decides to immediately make a rude comment,” you shot back. “Pretty sure you haven’t changed one bit, Murdock.”

“And you’re apparently still stuck on using my last name,” he quipped back, his head turning towards you as that smirk you hated tugged at his lips. “Why is that, I wonder?” 

He leaned over just a bit, his mouth gradually lowering beside your ear. You felt a shiver run up your spine when his warm breath grazed your neck. You told yourself it was due to the chill of the evening and not whatever effect he thought he had on you.

“Is it because you’ve always been afraid that you might actually enjoy saying my name? That you might like the taste of it on your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred in your ear. 

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed back, your hard stare focused ahead of you once again. “I’m not like those other women, Murdock. Don’t use that patronizing pet name of yours to lump me in with everyone else that bullshit works on. Because your so-called ‘charm’ doesn’t work on me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, straightening back up beside you. “You sure it doesn’t?”

A second later you felt his fingertips lightly brush against your thigh, grazing your skin just beneath the hem of your dress. You sucked in a breath and held it, your eyes falling shut at the warmth of his calloused touch. Matt had never flirted with you before–and he’d certainly never touched you before. You’d only ever seen him try to work his charm on other women, so what the hell was he doing right now? Was he actually interested in you?

Though when he chuckled softly beside you, your eyes immediately flew open again. Your heart began to pound hard in agitation as opposed to whatever it was that had sped it up a moment ago. Because the cocky asshole had done that on purpose . He was fucking with you, just like he’d always done in college. Except this time it felt significantly more embarrassing because, for the briefest of moments, it had felt good when he’d touched you.

“Seems like it might, sweetheart,” he whispered back. 

“Use my name if you have a need to speak with me, Murdock,” you ground out between clenched teeth, your cheeks heating. “Though I’d prefer if we kept our interactions limited this weekend so we don’t ruin things for Marci and Foggy.”

“Oh you’ve grown so much more bossy ,” Matt teased in delight. “That makes ignoring what you want that much more fun, sweetheart.”

As the wedding coordinator began to make her way back towards the bridal party still lined up, you expelled a sharp breath from your nose. Your hands balled into fists as you hugged your arms tighter over your chest, your nails biting into your palms. This weekend was going to be far worse than you’d imagined. Initially you’d hoped that Matt had grown up since graduation, willing to let whatever it was that made him a prick to you go for a few days for the sake of his best friend’s wedding.

But instead he was still so… Matthew Murdock . Had he really not grown since college? Matured into an actual adult? Why the hell was he like this? Because you’d only ever seen him treat you this way, and it was infuriating. 

“Alright ladies and gentleman,” the wedding coordinator announced.

Stopping just a few feet before you and Matt, she clapped her hands together to quiet the group. A smile spread across her mouth when the chatter came to a stop and you placed all of your focus on her and not Matt, though you could see that smug smile on his lips out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ll be starting the processional inside, just past those doors behind you, for the actual ceremony tomorrow,” she continued, gesturing to the French doors you’d all come out of a few minutes ago before lining up. “But for the sake of time we’ll start out here. You’ll be paired up with whomever you’re walking down the aisle with, moving one at a time down the aisle that’ll be here tomorrow when the chairs are set up. Then the pair of you part before the stone steps for the ceremony just there,” she said, turning at the waist and pointing to where Foggy was already standing and looking nervous. “Once the couple before you parts, the next one proceeds down the aisle. So let’s practice that for now, shall we?”

The woman had turned, making to get out of the way of the line for the processional, but then her eyes caught you and Matt standing beside each other. Her brows creased as she abruptly came to a stop, turning back around and pointing a finger between the pair of you.

“You two–Best Man and Maid of Honor–you need to link arms while you walk down the aisle,” she said. “Go on, just like the others behind you.”

At her comment, Matt’s arm rose up beside you, brushing against your own arm as he offered it out to you. You looked over at it, your lip pulling back in slight distaste. You did not want to have him escort you down the aisle now or tomorrow. And that sentiment was made all the more true when your gaze slid up, noticing Matt was smiling down at you in sheer amusement. He was clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Matt urged. “Let me escort you.”

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you slipped your arm through his before grabbing onto his bicep. But as soon as your fingers lightly curled around his suit coat, you could feel the thick muscle of his arm beneath your hand. Swallowing hard, you pushed that observation as far from your mind as you could. It wasn’t a fact you needed to remember about him.

But as the pair of you began to make your way towards the stone steps where the ceremony would take place tomorrow, Matt’s cane lightly tapping along the stone as you led him there, you couldn’t help but notice his head had turned a bit towards you. And unless your eyes were deceiving you, it looked like he was focused on you behind his red lenses.

[misshoneyimhome]

GM☀️ imagine Willy participating in no nut November and inexperienced reader pushing his boundaries to break his rules and wearing the beautiful outfits to his games to remind him what’s he’s missing. Another to thing add is that his brother is there it adds to challenge. I love the dress she has on because it features his favorite her bum lol I just know a fan might say something about it during game love some jealous William.

https://www.instagram.com/emma.powell/p/C-54fNWyn4t/?img_index=5

Oh my gosh, yes! 🙌🏼 I know I’ve said my requests are closed because of the Sexy Christmas series, but I just couldn’t resist this one 🙈 It’s not much, but this would definitely work as an Inexperienced!reader x Willy scenario 😉

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Willy, established relationship, No Nut November, teasing!reader

Word count: 1.1K

➼｡ﾟ

No Nut November I inexperienced!reader x Willy ✐

William Nylander had a problem, and that problem was you.

When he’d agreed to participate in No Nut November, it had seemed like a harmless challenge. A bit of fun, a test of willpower, perhaps even an exercise in self-discipline. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was you—his endlessly tempting, sweetly mischievous girlfriend—becoming the ultimate distraction. At first, you hadn’t meant to test his resolve. But once you realised the effect you had on him, it became far too tempting to push his boundaries.

And the real tipping point came on game night against the Islanders. You knew William loved when you dressed up for his games, always the supportive partner who effortlessly turned heads in the players’ family section. But tonight, you’d decided to take things a step further.

The dress you chose was daring, and you knew it. Black velvet, with spaghetti straps and a figure-hugging design that left little to the imagination. It framed your curves all the way to the ankles, accentuating your legs, while the clinging fabric hugged your bum in a way you knew William couldn’t ignore. It was classy, yet undeniably sexy—exactly the sort of outfit that would linger in his thoughts all night.

As you walked into Scotiabank Arena, the atmosphere seemed to shift. You definitely didn’t look like someone who was meant to fit it. Heads turned as you made your way to the players’ family section, your heels clicking against the tiled floor. Tugging lightly at your jacket—worn only to shield you from the chill—you carried yourself with an assured smile. You felt the weight of lingering stares, but they didn’t matter. Your focus was on William.

You found your seat and settled in as warmups began. At first, William didn’t notice you—he was focused on his drills, skating with that effortless grace that never failed to leave you in awe. But as he glided past your section, his eyes finally landed on you.

His reaction was immediate. His blue eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightened, and his gaze lingered on you. He faltered for the briefest of moments, recovering quickly, but not before you caught the telltale shift in his expression. The usual confident smirk he wore during warmups had disappeared, replaced by something darker, more intense.

You smirked to yourself, satisfied. Mission accomplished.

Throughout the game, you couldn’t help but notice William sneaking glances in your direction whenever he had the chance. His focus wavered during pauses in play, his gaze flickering to the stands as if he couldn’t help himself. His teammates didn’t miss it either.

“Bro,” Matthew Knies muttered on the bench, nudging his teammate with his elbow. “What’s got into you tonight?”

“Nothing,” William replied curtly, adjusting his helmet in a bid to appear unaffected.

But Matthew followed his gaze, easily spotting you in the stands. His eyebrows shot up, a low whistle escaping his lips. “Ah, I see now. You’re screwed, man.”

William scowled, brushing him off, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The game was already intense for William, but you had made it downright impossible to focus. The black velvet dress you’d chosen for the night wasn’t just bold—it was practically a weapon. The open back and figure-hugging cut were designed to turn heads, and William’s brother, Alex, sitting not far from you in the family section, didn’t miss it.

“Bold choice,” Alex commented when you arrived, a teasing grin on his face. “You trying to give Willy a heart attack before the game starts?”

You smirked, brushing off the comment. “Just showing my support.”

Alex chuckled knowingly but didn’t push it further, though his occasional glances during the game suggested he knew you were up to something.

In the first period, William caught sight of you as he skated past, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your seat. His usual cool composure faltered ever so slightly, and Alex leaned forward with a smirk.

“Nice job distracting him,” Alex quipped, his voice low enough to keep it private. “We might lose the game because of you.”

You couldn’t help but grin, leaning closer. “He’s doing just fine. Besides, I thought a little motivation never hurt anyone.”

Alex shook his head with a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

Things took a turn in the third period. During a brief pause in play, a fan seated a few rows behind you decided to make his opinion on your outfit known.

“Nylander’s got good taste off the ice!” the guy hollered, loud enough for half the section to hear. “That dress should be illegal!”

Your cheeks flushed as a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. You glanced at Alex, who looked just as amused, but when your eyes found William on the ice, the amusement stopped.

He’d heard it.

William’s head turned sharply toward the stands, his jaw tightening as his gaze locked on the fan who’d spoken. His glare was icy, his displeasure evident even from where you sat. His lips pressed into a thin line before he skated back to the bench, but not before throwing one more look in your direction.

“Uh-oh,” Alex said with a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “That’s the look. Someone’s in trouble—and it’s not just that guy.”

The game ended in a win for the Leafs, but as you made your way to the hallway to meet William, you could feel the weight of his gaze before you even saw him.

He emerged from the locker room, his damp hair slicked back and his suit perfectly tailored, but his expression was anything but calm. His blue eyes burned as he walked straight past Alex, who raised his hands in mock surrender, and came directly to you.

“What was that about?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

Feigning innocence, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “What was what about?”

William’s lips twitched, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, his grip firm. “Don’t play coy. You knew exactly what you were doing. And that guy—” He cut himself off, clearly still irritated by the comment.

“Jealous, are we?” you teased, unable to hide your grin.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

Before you could respond, Alex walked past, clapping William on the shoulder. “Relax, bro. She’s just keeping you on your toes. Besides, I think she deserves a reward for helping us win.”

William shot his brother a glare, but the tension eased just slightly as he focused back on you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, you love it,” you replied with a cheeky smile.

He sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got some explaining to do about that dress.”

The possessive look in his eyes promised that you were in for a long night—and you weren’t complaining one bit.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

IDIOT matt sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. i love spider man

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. spider-man!matthew sturniolo x reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. cleaning spider-man's cuts 🫡

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? no!

↳ 𝐂𝐖! mentions of blood/wounds, language, ig kind of angsty?

"this is so fucking idiotic, matt. the day you get your head screwed on right and no longer do this bullshit is the day heaven rains down on earth."

hearing a knock on your window, you're more unfazed then you should be considering the fact that you live on the ninth floor. a few months ago you would've freaked out, but not so much anymore.

placing your book down, you stand up and walk over to the window. quietly sliding the curtains to the side to find your distressed boyfriend, clutching his hand tightly to his torso.

mumbling a string of profanities under your breath, you lift the glass, opening it so the cold midnight wind pours into your bedroom. "fuck, matt." you murmur, helping him climb inside.

blood drips from his skin, his suit ripped open in three long streaks. you frown, pulling him over to your bed. reminding him to stay quiet just in case someone's still awake.

he plops down on your bed, pulling his mask off to reveal the heap of chocolate hair on top of his head, staring apologetically into your eyes. tears and guilt swirling over the light blue you've learned to love so much. "i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out to take your hands in his. "i know i promised you that i'd be careful, and i tried. i tried so hard but today was different i guess."

you look away, dropping his hands before walking into your bathroom without a word. stepping back into your room, you have a series of things you want to scream at the boy, but you refrain and tone it down.

"this is so fucking idiotic, matt." you huff, sitting down in front of him on the bed. "the day you get your head screwed on right and no longer do this bullshit is the day heaven rains down on earth."

he stays silent, closing his eyes for several long seconds before meeting yours once more. not finding the words, he just lightly nods.

"this is gonna sting," you mumble, taking a cotton swab soaked in rubbing alcohol to his torso. doing your best to rub away the dried blood without hurting him.

unto to your surprise, he flinches under your touch. biting down on his lower lip to keep a long list of harsh words locked away on his tongue.

setting down the cotton swab, you stand up, grabbing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt of his that he's been meaning to get back for a while now. tossing them in front of him. "put these on and then i'll wrap that up."

he nods, standing up as you step into your bathroom. looking into your mirror, you run your hands down your face. basically on the brink from steaming at the ears. you're so unbelievably pissed at matt right now, but you know no matter how much you beg him to throw the suit away, he's going to resist and ignore you.

matt walks into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around you and dropping his nose to your shoulder. "i'm sorry, i really am." he whispers.

you turn around, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "i know you are, honey. i'm sorry for snapping at you."

he shakes his head, "please don't apologize. its my fault." he pleads. "there was this little girl who was about to-" his breath catches, "it almost got her and i couldn't stand to watch it and so i left the family i was tending to and so i got in the way and i-"

pressing your lips against his, you temporarily shut him up. "its okay, matt." you hushed, running your hands gently through his coffee-colored hair. "you don't have to explain yourself."

releasing a tight breath of air, he nods before looking down at his feet.

gently taking his hand in yours, you drag him back to your bed to wrap the gauze around his waist. letting him tell you all about what happened tonight and how heroic he felt after stopping whatever villain was out there this time.

letting him hug you tighter, you mumble a sweet goodnight before he falls into a soft slumber in your arms.

TAGLIST

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The Last To Know | Part Three

The Last To Know Masterlist

John Brady x Pilot!Female Reader

The 100th should be nearing the end of its training, receiving its certification for overseas combat. However, as you and Brady both know - man plans, god laughs. Obstacles, however, sometimes present hidden opportunities for connection.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Original Characters, Plane Crashes, Minor Original Character Death, Vomit, Era Typical Sexism/Misogyny, Alcohol Consumption, Tobacco Smoking, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Weapons of War, Inevitable Musical and Flying Inaccuracies, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: This story contains an alternate universe where women have been allowed to fly in combat with the USAAF - in a very limited experiment. Reader is a trumpet player. Brief references to Reader's family and backstory. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6135

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December 1942

“Any news?” Thornton asked as she sank down into the empty chair opposite you.

Shaking your head, you lowered your eyes to the faintly steaming mug cupped between your hands, trying to calm the hopeful race of your heart. You had thought, in vain, she might be bearing word of Brady’s crew. “No Ma’am.”

She hummed in disappointment, settling back in her seat as she tossed her cap onto the tabletop, carelessness betraying her fatigue. In all honestly, you should be in bed. You, Thornton, and every other person loitering around the Officer’s Club this late on Christmas Eve.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.” She murmured, straightening her jacket as you took a slow slip of your drink.

Correction – this early on Christmas morning.

“You, too.” You sighed, the pair of you offering tight-lipped nods to Matthews, the barman on duty, as he delivered a cup of coffee for Thornton without prompting.

The forecast that afternoon had been clear skies, no reason to doubt the practice missions slated for the 418th. Not until the planes began returning within an hour or two of take off, bearing reports of abysmal weather – little to no visibility, high winds, heavy snow. All but one plane had returned by sundown.

It was not unheard of for things to go awry during training. Plenty of statistics outlined the dangers of just learning how to fly a B-17, never mind taking it into combat. But this would be the first for the 100th.

As to what you were doing here, participating in this vigil – that was certainly more complicated. A question you were not entirely equipped to answer. All you knew is that you had found it impossible to consider turning in the for night with the status of his entire crew unknown. Croz had proven himself a humble gentleman, Hambone more of an enigma, while Hoerr seemed polite enough – holding doors for any lady who crossed his path, no matter what her occupation.

Perhaps it was the question mark that hung over the fate of those ten men that left you feeling so unsettled, seeking the company of the likeminded in the brightly lit, uncharacteristically quiet Club. The sound of the door closing lifted your, and everyone else’s, head, your heart leaping into your throat as Flescher stepped into view. The entire crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting on the 418th’s CO to speak, until Bucky sidled up behind him grinning broadly.

“Crash landed in Wyoming, all ten of ‘em are shaken up but fine.” Egan crowed, basking in the cheer of delight that went up from the collected officers.

Exhaling in relief, you sank lower in your chair, taking a deep sip to finish your drink as Matthews was quickly put to service pouring celebratory shots.

“That’s my cue.” You nodded to Thornton, standing wearily, feeling suddenly fatigued as the nervous worry that had been keeping you awake rapidly leeched from your body.

“Not staying to celebrate?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m already up way past my bedtime, Ma’am. Merry Christmas.” You repeated with a nod, setting your empty mug on the return cart before sliding around the perimeter of the room to avoid getting ensnared in any raucous celebrations.

The night air was cold, sending your hands diving into the fleece-lined pockets of your jacket, breath misting from your lips as you made your way back to barracks. Getting ready as quietly as possible, adding a few more pieces of wood to the stoves before shuffling towards your bed, you turned to the rack beside yours as Lionheart whispered your name.

“Yeah?” You replied just as quietly.

“What’s the word?”

“Safe in Wyoming.”

“Mmm that’s good.” She murmured, voice laden with sleep as she turned over, falling still as she was soon unconscious once more.

Sliding onto your mattress and pulling the blankets right up to your chin, you swallowed tightly as you found yourself wholeheartedly in agreement. It was good that they were safe. Every single one of them. Even that irksome Brady.

They were back on base within two days, a new plane arriving for them just one day after that – war production had vastly improved, even in the last two months. They returned to a Group in the midst of packing up to move to yet another base, another phase of training.

Sioux City, Iowa was your next home, located at the convergence of the states of Iowa, South Dakota, and Nebraska. Arriving the very first day of 1943, the only warmth was in the greeting from the local ground crew, the 100th’s having split off to Kearney, Nebraska to receive their next phase of training separately. The temperature was all of nine degrees, the cold of the wind gnawing at any exposing skin and laying down thick sheets of ice on the runways.

Despite hygiene regulations requiring space between beds, everyone in the barracks found it a great deal warmer to sleep as close to one another as possible, cots pushed together, huddled under as many blankets as could be found, some even resorting to their high-altitude gear to get comfortable. The deep freeze held Iowa tight in its grasp and did not let go for the first week of January. Aircraft engines refused to start, more than a few personnel were injured due to slips and falls on the treacherous ice lurking beneath skiffs of powdery snow or deceptively coloured as black as innocuous concrete.

The 100th found itself grounded at the mercy of mother nature, the vast majority of your colleagues revelling in the proximity to the city and its numerous USO dances. You, yourself, found the lull in activity and purpose tedious.

Burying your nose into the fleecy collar of your flight jacket after yet another failed attempt at a practice mission, you parted ways with your frostbitten crew. The invitation to spend another afternoon in the women’s make-shift club poring over the haul of fashion magazines Nita had procured on her trip off base make your stomach turn and you eagerly pointed your toes towards the hangar to see what the boys in the ground crew were up to. While you might not be able to get up into the air today, you could at least spend time with experienced technicians and perhaps learn a thing or two.

Pulling open the heavy man-door, you stepped into the slightly warmer space where the sounds of repair and idle chatter bounced off the metal roof and walls. There were a few other officers in attendance, most likely longing to be in the air, same as you, but stuck here on the frozen plains with nothing better to do than watch the men in grease-stained coveralls dissemble engines and work on the guts of the machines they normally flew in.

There was one man, off to the side, with several open cans of paint, carefully working on some nose art on a rather spotless looking aircraft. Raising a curious eyebrow as you found painting to be a rather optimistic endeavour in these temperatures, you found your feet carrying you in his direction, peering over at the tail number. ‘42-300071’ you noted with a slight huff. Brady’s new plane, of course. At the sarcastic exhale, the unfamiliar man looked up to you quickly and you stepped closer to address him properly.

“Pretty sure you’ve got the lettering wrong there, Sergeant.” Your lips twitched playfully, watching him pale nervously as his eyes darted back to the three-quarters finished ‘Skipper.’

“M…Ma’am?” He squeaked out nervously, drawing the attention of several passers-by.

“That should most definitely read ‘Brady’s Crash Wagon.’” A grin snuck its way onto your lips as the hangar erupted with laughter, a rather perturbed John Brady stalking around the nose of the plane to eye you in annoyance.

Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, lest you burst out laughing, you could not help but notice that his cap was pulled low on his head, pushing his ears out slightly, giving him the appearance of an overgrown field mouse. Raising a shoulder in a half-shrug of nonchalance, you continued on your way towards an engine stripped of its parts, crouching down to watch the technician hard at work on one of the gears – a tiny yet integral piece.

“You’re a real cut-up, Bo Peep.” Egan beamed, clapping you on the shoulder playfully, driving that laugh that had been stubbornly hovering in the back of your throat past the barrier of your lips as you straightened to face him. You could not help but notice the faint-hearted laugh he produced, the fact that the expression did not quite reach his eyes.

“You ok, Major?” You murmured, referring to him by his recently promoted rank.

His eyes met yours, studying you for a moment before he nodded and offered a wink. “Just fine, Bo Peep. Stay warm, huh?” He patted your shoulder again before moving along, leaving you alone with your confusion and growing sense of unease.

A glance back over your shoulder at the flushed face of Brady, surrounded by his bright-faced comrades as they watched the final touches being put on the nose of his plane provided no insights. Bucky’s uncharacteristic moment of solemnity became did not become more understandable until Thornton cornered you a few days later with the news that Wing was reticent to certify the 100th for overseas combat. The lack of flying days here in Iowa, combined with the limited planes available at the outset in Washington, capped off with the disorderly transition from base to base – including one particular crew’s detour to Minneapolis to send a message via wrench dropped out of a machine gun port…well it had all raised a lot of doubts in the minds of your superiors.

“How bad are we talking here?” You murmured, leaning in closer as a few girls filtered by towards the showers. “A complete failure of the experiment?” Your throat clenched painfully around the words, feeling more than a little queasy at the thought that after months of hard work, you might be packing it up to head home anyway.

“Dutch doesn’t foresee it being quite so dire, just promise me you’ll keep your nose clean, Lieutenant. We’ve been perfect thus far, now we must be simply flawless.”

“Understood, Ma’am.” You nodded quickly, parting with a sharp salute, hurrying toward the Mess Hall to dig into some breakfast.

The warmth on the breeze, a sudden turn in the weather, was a hopeful sign and one that did allow you all to get back into the air. Your efforts to arrange Deep in the Heart of Texas for the 280th’s band to play for Thornton on her birthday, in honor of her home state, also proved an excellent distraction. While the vast majority of officers had absconded off base for one of the ubiquitous USO dances, you had taken up residence in the corner of the Officer’s Club, taking the record player hostage as the Ladies Club did not have one on this base. With your one purchased copy of the score, and multiple handwritten versions spread out on the table before you, Matthews groaned as you set the needle on the outside of the record to play the song yet again, wanting to read through the clarinet part you had just written out.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll buy another drink in a moment and improve your sales for the night.” You glanced back over your shoulder at him apologetically, startled to meet the blue eyes of Brady, leaning up against the bar.

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” Matthews huffed good naturedly and you jerked your focus back to the task at hand as the voice of Bing Crosby, playing significantly quieter than usual, still managed to fill the basically empty club as your eyes traced along your penciled in notes.

As the song came to end, you lifted the needle, the tuneless scratching of vinyl ceasing, as you tapped your pencil against your lower lip in thought. The arrangement seemed fine in all honesty, but fine was most definitely not what you were aiming for with your birthday tribute to the inspiration for your entire squadron. Pulling the score for the trumpets closer you exhaled heavily, once again debating about which instrument ought to be carrying the melody in the second verse when a voice startled you from behind.

“Saxophones ought to be stepping out there.” Brady murmured thoughtfully, ice clinking against the side of his glass as he took a sip.

Shoulders stiffening nearly to your ears, you glared down at the page before you. “Of course you would say that; you spend all your spare time with a reed in your mouth.”

Huffing a little, he settled down, completely uninvited, in the chair to your left. “Look here, horn lady,” his annoyingly elegant finger jabbed into the sheet music, “you’re overlooking a powerful and impactful instrument that would add dimension to this section.”

Wrenching your eyes from his insistent digit to his stubbornly set face, his jaw jutting slightly forward, you began to regret referring to his mouth earlier as your eyes were tempted to drift there. “You forget that I only have two to rely upon.” You countered quickly, trying to distract yourself.

“Only takes one good saxophone to steal the show.” He replied with a minute smirk, slowly sipping his drink and making you grit your teeth before pulling the scores together.

Using your eraser, you made his suggested changes for the second verse, putting the saxophones in the spotlight and the clarinets on harmony, before setting it all in front of him. “You listen, I’ve stared at this far too long.”

Standing quickly, you set the song to play once more before stalking over to the bar, intent on fetching the drink from Matthews as promised. Assuming the lean Brady had occupied a few minutes prior, you were pleasantly surprised to see him still sat at the table, diligently reviewing the music before him as the song played. Paying and tipping Matthews handsomely as you accepted your beverage, your lips parted in surprise as Brady went to the lengths of setting the song to play again.

“Christ almighty, there are two of you now.” Matthews groaned bitterly and you shot him yet another apologetic grimace.

“Sorry, Matthews.”

“Whatever, just…I’ll be in the back doing stock if anyone needs me.” He sighed dramatically, tossing his towel over his shoulder and disappearing through the doorway behind the bar.

Returning to the table slowly, you swallowed to find Brady jotting down his thoughts on the back of a spare sheet. Resuming your seat carefully, so as not to disturb him, you froze slightly as he suddenly turned his gaze to you.

“It’s a fair start–” He began and so did your struggle to actually listen to the rest of what he had to say rather than immediately fight back defensively.

Though it utterly galled you to admit it, he made numerous good points. You had heard he was a professional musician, had done his degree in music, played with Bunny Berrigan. Hell, you had seen and heard him play yourself at that holiday concert. And his acumen was showing here again, right now. Swallowing your pride, as much as it painfully scraped its way down your throat, you forced yourself to take his advice, to make the changes. Until it came to your substitution for the claps during the refrain.

“I say keep them with the horns, but don’t play these notes, actually clap – you’ll get the audience to join in.”

Your pencil halted in place above your score, head jerking up to look at him. “You’d reduce us to percussion.” You said flatly, tone dripping with disbelief.

Sighing impatiently, he leaned back in his chair crossing his arms. “Fine, someone needs to clap. Your bandleader?”

Raising both your eyebrows, a laugh of disbelief escaped you. “Keever?! Oh that’s rich she’d…” your voice trailed off as you imagined her displeasure. How annoyed she would be at such a lowly job and yet how easily explainable it would be. A dark grin of delight tugged at your lips, and you nodded firmly, grabbing the clarinet score and making a special note, just for Keever.

“Once more, to be sure?” He asked around the pipe now clenched in his teeth, and you nodded firmly, laying the parts at an angle between the pair of you as he set up the record to play one more time, the heavy thud of a box being dropped on the bar sounding from behind you.

The pair of you glanced back to see Matthews disappearing back into the stockroom, muttering unintelligibly under his breath, before turning back to look over your handiwork, nodding along quietly as the song played before you leaned back with a sigh of relief.

“That’s it.” Brady nodded, turning off the record player, curls of smoke trailing from his lips.

Nodding as you finished the dregs of your drink with one deep swallow, you moved to assemble your papers into order, blinking as he held out the record for you to tuck away into its sleeve. Not quite capable of offering words of thanks to the man, you opted instead to provide a deep nod of gratitude, packing it away and heading out for the night.

The band had a week and a half to perfect the piece, using every available moment to practice. The unfinished pool, construction halted for the winter, proved to be the perfect space to keep the endeavour secret – though both yourself and Keever found it much harder to explained prolonged absences to Thornton. After one too many close calls, and one rather intense exchange involving a remarkable amount of perspiration for January in Iowa, you found it necessary to employ the assistance of Egan to keep her off the scent. The man proved more than eager and up to the task at distracting her with inane drabble or outright chaos as the situation warranted.

He was with her right now, distracting her with some meeting along with Dutch, Cleven, Kidd, Flescher, Alkire…at least you were desperately trying to convince yourself that was all it was – and not the dire news you had been praying would not come to pass. Andie shouted your name, drawing your eyes from the blur of music stanzas in front of you to where your Co-pilot was setting down a large slab cake with the assistance of Lionheart.

“Here??” She called again and you gave her the thumbs up through the clouds of balloons and streamers – the decorations having reached astronomic proportions under Bucky’s insistence.

Turning back to warming up, your attention was once again snagged by actions on the floor as Dutch hurried in with Cleven, sliding his blunt fingers into his mouth and giving a sharp whistle. “She’s two minutes out! Places!”

There were times when you questioned the military training of the members of the 100th, but this was not one of them. With surprising efficiency, all of those gathered, including the enlisted women with special permission to enter the Officer’s Club for the evening, quieted down and assembled along the sides of the room emptied of furniture to allow for the extra bodies. You barely registered the opening of the door before a great cheer when up, Keever turning to the band expectantly. Holding the opening note of Happy Birthday for a few beats until the crowd took the cue, she signalled with a bob of her head to proceed with the rest of the tune, the band playing as the crowd eagerly sang to the blushing woman as Bucky guided her to the over-sized cake on the bar.

There were more cheers, which then tripled in volume once she blew out the candles and then, at last, came time for your surprise. Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from your palms onto your olive drab skirt while the attention of the crowd was elsewhere, you took a steadying breath as Keever turned back to begin Deep in the Heart of Texas. As you had assumed, there had been a great deal of push back from her regarding the refrain claps, but you had done an admirable job selling her importance of that role as bandleader. And watching her eyes light up upon taking in the force with which the crowd executed those claps along with her convinced you that it had been worth it.

Damn that John Brady.

Shuffling from the bandstand to thunderous applause at the end of the song, you smiled to Matthews gratefully as he cued up the record player, revellers taking to the dancefloor as you moved to find your instrument case to pack up.

“Lieutenant.” Thornton’s voice cut through the din as her hand landed on your shoulder with a squeeze. Turning to face her warmly, your eyes widened as she pulled you close in a warm embrace. “Thank you.” She said emphatically in your ear.

Pulling back with a quizzical look on your face, she cracked a small smile.

“Egan.” She clarified and you shook your head with a smirk, feeling the expression leech away as her face fell solemn.

“Ma’am?”

“It’s not dissolution but…more training. A month at least.” She leaned in, confirming that the meeting had, in fact, not been a ruse.

Setting your mouth into a grim line, you exhaled deeply through your nose, nodding once to show you had heard her even if you did not fully understand the reasoning. Parting from you with one final squeeze of your shoulder, you turned to wend your way through the raucous crowd, punching the door open into the frigid night, forgetting all about your case. You were about ten steps away from the building when you heard Brady calling your name.

Turning back sharply, you saw him jogging over to you, trumpet case in hand. “It was good.”

Snagging it from him roughly, you gulped. “Not good enough.”

“What are you talking about?” He tilted his head, acutely resembling a bewildered puppy.

Casting your eyes around the desolate exterior of the building and finding only the ghosts of your exhales hanging in the air, you swallowed. “We’re not getting certification.”

His gaze hardened. “Your scores are perfect.” He muttered, tone soured by what you could only assume was envy.

Brady’s reply wrung a bitter laugh from your aching chest. “I could turn water into wine, Brady, and they would say it’s because I can’t make beer. Besides, they’re not going to certify one crew, one squadron even. It’s the whole Group or nothing.”

“Damn.” He grunted. “Do you know how long?”

“A month, at least. Just pray it’s not in this desolate ice field.” You shook your head, leaving him alone in the freezing night.

It was not. At least not for the 418th and 280th. Two days after Thornton’s tainted birthday celebrations, you were on the move once again, to Boise, Idaho. The semi-arid conditions there brought a return temperatures in the forties and regular training flights without the same biting cold of Iowa. It did little to lift the spirits of the splintered squadrons, the 349th, 350th, and 351st scattered hither and yon, the entire Group’s future feeling utterly precarious despite Thorntons assurances that it would not be a permanent separation.

Certain men, of whom Pratt was the most vocal, were more than happy to lay the blame at the feet of the women of the 280th, but in comparison, both on paper and in the air, your squadron was unquestionably outperforming any other as the calendar turned first to February and then onto March. Temperatures rose, the spring rains came to the Treasure Valley, and Blakely married his Sioux City sweetheart, shipped in by train for the occasion accompanied by Hambone’s wife.

You had been learning more than just their names during this prolonged period of training in exile, finding that not only had the weather thawed but so too had some of their reticence to interact with the ladies of the 280th as equals. That was, of course, not to say that things did not remain frosty between you and Brady – no, that friction would most likely never resolve, but perhaps the pair of you might be able to function as colleagues.

March 29 dawned warm and remarkably humid, sending your eyes suspiciously skyward to assess the seemingly innocent clouds scudding along briskly in the stiff breeze. Halting your steps on your way to the Mess Hall, you planted your hands on your hips and furrowed your brow, doing your best to ignore the way Andie was snickering at you.

“You trying to give Stormy a run for his money?”

Shaking your head with a sigh, mostly at yourself, you put one foot in front of the other to continue onward toward breakfast. “Weather’s off, that’s all.” You shrugged and held the door open for her to make up for delaying her meal.

With a nod of thanks she stepped into the Officer’s Mess, usually filled with a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces here in Idaho. In a way it had been a blessing your squadron had been sent along with another – it limited the number of unpleasant encounters with each new Group rotation, watching some other bunch of men making their way through training more expediently than the 100th also had the added benefit of forging deeper bonds between your two squadrons. The Mess was quieter today, however, the members of the 393rd Bomb Group off on an early morning mission. They would surely be moving on next week and the question on everyone’s mind was, would you also get that chance?

It had been a cramped stay, with no spare buildings for the women to make their own club, no time or space for the band to practice. The desire to get certified and get into combat was searing inside everyone by now, it was just a matter of convincing Wing that you were truly ready. Bellies full, crews were assembled and loaded onto transport trucks after the briefing. Dual squadron bombing run without ordinance was the order of the day, but you found your eyes narrowing in on the clouds beginning to grow vertically over the valley as the heat of the day increased under the influence of the sun.

“If the weather allows…” You muttered under your breath to yourself as you jumped off the truck in front of your plane, which the girls had lovingly named ‘Ice Box’ thanks to the cold temperatures you all endured while flying inside it.

“Ok, Stormy.” Andie sassed, happy to assure you she had overheard your pessimism before she slid aboard, making you roll your eyes as you followed.

You wished you had not been right. In fact, there were a lot of things you wished went differently that day.

Take off was rough, the plane buffeted by cross winds and turbulence that had even the seasoned members of your crew questioning the wisdom of their generous breakfast. After much discussion between Blakely and Thornton, the squadrons pushed higher to try and find a smoother altitude above the clouds. The problem was the clouds only continued to bubble and boil higher and higher into the stratosphere, seeming to chase your aircraft.

Glancing out the small window to your left, you frowned as there was no friendly flat-top to these clouds, apparently nothing to limit their towering heights. Listening to nothing other than the sound of your own exhales echoing harshly against the rubber of your mask, you bit off a curse and made the decision to call the lead plane of your squadron to express your concern about the obvious storm clouds.

“Zoot Suit three to Zoot Suit lead.”

“Go ahead.” Came Thornton’s reply, tone perfectly even.

“I’m thinking these storm clouds are more dangerous than they look.”

“Zoot Suit three, same conversation occurring in our cockpit, standby.”

Exhaling slowly, both relieved that she agreed and yet tension increasing now that your sense of apprehension was validated, you nearly missed the bolt of lightning that jumped from one cloud to another in front of the nose of your plane. The thunder, however, was inescapable, the airframe of your B-17 rattling with the proximity of it.

“Well!” Andie huffed. “Think that oughta convince her.”

You were about to reply when a forceful updraft caught the underside of the left wing, driving the plane towards the underside of Biddick’s fort above you, cockeyed, but at such an acute angle you were increasingly at risk of stalling out and sliding backward into the 280th’s formation behind you.

“Shit.” You hissed before barking out to the crew. “Hold on!”

Grasping the throttles, you split the right backward and the left forward, trying to drive the left wing downward as you pulled on the yoke to bank clear of any other planes. The engines whined at the sudden and disparate demands, but thankfully complied, the aircraft spiralling down and away from causing any harm to those around you. Gritting your teeth against the force of the turn, you fought to level out once you had dropped clear, shooting Andie a grateful look as her hand joined yours on the throttle and you pulled on the yokes together.

Chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath, the adrenaline was still singing through your veins as Thornton’s voice came through your headset.

“Zoot Suit lead to Zoot Suit three, everything all right down there?”

“Levelled out now, yes Ma’am.” Your voice was embarrassingly thin but nevertheless audible.

“Zoot Suit lead to all Zoot Suit pilots, Charlie, Delta, Eight, Niner, Alpha, Echo.”

Heaving a sight of relief as she called out the scrub code for your squadron, you remained at your lower altitude, watching the 280th peel off and descend before moving to join their tail as they headed back to base.

“Red Meat lead to all Read Meat pilots, following suit.” Came Blakely’s call shortly after was very validating to hear, though the derisive snort emanating from Pratt made your grip tighten painfully on the controls.

“One dumb girl can’t control her plane and we have to scrub?” He remarked snidely across all the channels, making your blood boil.

“Red Meat six, you have been given the order to scrub, you will turn that plane around or I will take it up with Flescher the moment we land.”

Instinctively looking over your shoulder told you nothing, nothing visible but empty sky from your vantage point, but from the sounds of it, Pratt was continuing on along the mission route, through the thickening clouds and almost persistent thunder.

“Coward…” Was the last transmission, a cruel barb that made your very skin crawl as you would have happily defied that label being applied to any person in the air at the moment, even if it cost you your life.

No further arguments exchanged, you were left the assume that Pratt had complied. Rain opened up, an obscuring curtain of water that nearly hid the runway from view. Mercifully, you were not the first to land, relying on those that found the ground safely before you to help guide you out of the unfriendly sky. Taxiing to your hardstand, you were in the process of removing your flying helmet when Pratt’s plane, being batted about in the wind as though it was crafted of paper, made your breath catch in your throat. Lightning tore through the sky once more, that clouds having since coalesced into one solid wall of black behind him, making the mighty flying fortress appear small.

The sight of an updraft snagging his plane, an occurrence not dissimilar to that which you and your crew had narrowly escaped, sent your heart plummeting, your eyes sliding shut in resignation as the aircraft was thrown helplessly higher into the sky before arcing viciously towards the ground. The resulting cacophonous boom of the explosion, distinct from thunder, had the ladies still sheltering inside the bomber crying out in terror.

“Who was it?”

“Oh god we gotta go help them!”

“No one coulda survived that…”

Yanking the helmet the rest of the way off your head to remove the headset from your ears, you pressed your thumb between your eyebrows to fight off the intense wave of nausea threatening you. The bitter taste of bile was in the back of your throat, creeping higher, and you struggled to take calming breaths as the storm continued to rage outside.

There was not a kind bone in that man’s body, but you had not wished him death. Not even after he accused you of incompetence, nor each and everyone of you of cowardice. Wrenching the sliding window of the cockpit open you stuck your head out the side to lose the remnants of your breakfast, warm rain pelting your face in the process, washing away the evidence.

Retreating back to your seat, you looked to Andie startled as she held out a handkerchief, by some miracle keeping all commentary to herself for once. Quickly drying your face, you tucked it into your pocket with a nod of thanks before wending your way back toward the hatch, coaxing the wide-eyed, shocked girls from the plane and into the covered crew truck to be ferried back to the briefing hut.

That interrogation felt a lot less like practice, Dutch making a beeline for your table and leaning in closely to listen in on your description of the evasive action you had taken, followed by your crew’s collective description of the crash.

The entire room felt muted, everyone’s voices lowered, hushed, like you were already attending the funerals of those eleven men – Pratt’s crew and their experienced observer – who had fallen out of the sky trying to land in the storm.

Maybe if Pratt had turned around when Blakely ordered, he could have beaten the brunt of it. Or maybe there had been nothing that he could have done.

You were starting to feel sick again, excessive perspiration accumulating beneath your flight suit, driving you to open it halfway. Rising quickly to your feet as soon as you were dismissed, you stepped outside desperately to gulp in the fresh air, finding it smelling sweet and feeling cool now that the storm had passed, taking all the humidity with it.

“Bo-peep!” Blakely called out and you turned to see him standing off to the side with a few pilots from the 418th, sharing matches to light their preferred delivery methods for their precious tobacco.

Swallowing hesitantly as he waved you over, you took another life-saving breath of restorative air before moving to join them, more than a little curious at the invitation.

“What did you do before all this?” He asked, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear to light once the book of matches reached him.

Furrowing your brows slightly as you looked from him to Biddick, then Brady, it slowly dawned on you that this was some odd form of acceptance into the group. Tucking the piece of gum you had been fervently chewing to overcome the taste of vomit into your cheek, you shrugged.

“Crop-dusting, mostly, odd jobs in the winter.”

His brown eyes widened slightly as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke up and away from you. “You flew before joining up.” It was not a question, more of an ‘aha!’ statement.

Nodding slowly, you tucked your thumbs into the corners of your pockets. “Almost two years.”

“How’d you get out of that updraft?” Brady’s blunt question cut through Blakely’s moment of revelation, drawing all eyes onto him.

His fingers were tightly grasping the bowl of his pipe, eyes fix firmly on you.

“Yeah, you didn’t even clip the lady beside you, spin out, stall, nothin’.” Biddick shook his head in disbelief.

Bowing your head slightly under the intense scrutiny and praise, you shrugged humbly before taking a breath, trying to remember what you had even done. It had all been instinct. “Split the throttles to overcome the punch to the left wing, took her down in a sharp turn, then Andie and I levelled her out together.” You spoke slowly as each motion came back to you.

“Well, hell, you be sure to tell me anytime I need to stay away from a cloud alright?” Blakely smirked and you laughed softly in surprise.

“Will do.” You nodded in return.

You felt comfort in the sudden levity, in the grins they sent your way, the claps they landed on your shoulder. You had earned their respect, even if it had taken nearly five months, and it meant a lot.

Even if Brady was staring at you silently with his striking blue eyes, his pipe clenched between his teeth.

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The Last To Know Masterlist

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