#i can’t believe matthew settle is really there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gluion · 6 days ago

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wish you were sober — seok matthew

seok matthew x reader, slight myung jaehyun x reader

wc — 6.9k genre & warnings — fluff, light angst, crack, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, vomitting in one scene, kissing/making out, jealousy, zb1 friendgroup antics, HAOBIN AND GYUBRIK CANON SRY, boynextdoor and kiss of life cameo, reader has hair long enough to be tucked and held back playlist/inspired by — apt. by rosé & bruno mars // sober II by lorde // wish you were sober by conan gray // urs by niki // lovers rock by tv girl notes — wrote this mainly bc my life changed the moment matthew read my sign in the jebewon con, finished it the day matthew was @ the prada event. and in both instances, i've gotten significantly more ill, so here's this very self-indulgent, self-insert fic (where aspects are derived from my own experiences) <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — as far as matthew knows, you still liked another man. yet, your friendship with him takes a sudden turn over a drunken confession... or three.

(or in other words, the three times you confess to matthew under the influence but he never believes you—until you tell him sober.)

the first time you confess to matthew happens on the night of hanbin’s graduation—no, not a confession of love but one of attraction.

if matthew has to be completely honest, he still doesn’t know what to make of your words. over the course of three years, he wouldn’t have suspected your interest in him. if anything, he’s under the impression you still like jaehyun. yet, everything shifts the moment he stumbles into the same bathroom as you.

“hanbin, have you found yourself a job?” gyuvin pops the long awaited question.

more than half of the group finds themselves in the kitchen. matthew knows that gunwook’s coming from soccer practice and yujin had to stay home for a doctor’s appointment the next day. as for you, he remembers seeing you with julie on the search for jaehyun and sungho.

the graduated fellow groans. “don’t remind me that i’m unemployed. this whole job search is going to kill me.” hao chuckles as hanbin rests his head on his shoulder.

gyuvin slings his arm around jiwoong’s shoulders. “oh, don’t worry! i’m sure this employed man can make something happen, right?”

“me? you should be asking ricky!” all eyes land on the blond who sips away on a drink. “he’s the one with a family business. i’m barely making it in that goddamn nine to five that i’m still mixing shit for you college students.”

ricky elbows jiwoong’s side, causing the man to yelp. “you could be asking me for a job if you really hated the one you have now.”

“really? you could save me?” jiwoong almost gets on his knees until matthew holds him back.

“please don’t do that. not everyone knows you here.”

the man complies and puts his hands together. “ricky, please. i might just kill myself if i have to deal with another overtime. i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i properly hung out with you guys.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to stick with us all the time. you have a job.” taerae’s point only brings him to a fit of laughter as jiwoong tickles him.

regardless of how loud taerae and jiwoong are, the rest of the group continues to discuss hanbin’s dilemma. “but yes, i could make something happen if you really want,” ricky offers.

“really? thank you!” hanbin hugs him. “it’s almost impossible to find a job. i don’t know why.”

“tell me about it. i can’t even get an internship. i’m already willing to settle for an unpaid one but no one seems to be accepting,” taerae complains as he leans against the wall.

hao swishes around the alcohol in his cup. “that does make me wanna ask what the upcoming seniors are planning to do.” his eyes darted between taerae and matthew.

taerae grins. “the goal is to become a trophy wife.”

“of course it is.” gyuvin laughs before leaning against ricky. “i’m marked safe. i don’t know about you guys.”

jiwoong groans while taerae rolls his eyes at their public display of affection. “you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

“yeah, whatever. what about you?” ricky looks at matthew. “are you still planning for medschool or is there another career crisis happening again?”

he shakes his head. “nah, i’m still pretty set on med school. next year is going to be hell for me.”

“ah, that means matthew is going to be the one providing for his partner! taerae, now’s your chance.” hanbin’s joke has everyone bursting into laughter.

taerae dramatically clears his throat, choking in between which only makes them wheeze. “matthew, can i be yours?”

matthew gets closer to his friend, his face only a few inches apart before saying, “not until you let me become yours.” at his double down, everyone starts to make gagging noises, including taerae who physically cringes.

“get a room!”

“damn, no kiss?” ricky’s joke in contrast to gyuvin’s complaint has jiwoong chuckling.

“yeah, you know what? fuck you, guys. i’m going to find someone at this damn party.” with that, taerae ventures off. jiwoong follows without another word.

gyuvin’s phone rings in his pocket. as he brings it out, he sees a message. “oh, gunwook’s already here! i’m gonna go grab him.” ricky trails behind his partner, leaving matthew with the other couple.

hanbin looks around before asking, “hey, where is y/n?”

“last time i saw them, they were looking for myungjae and sungho.” matthew chugs down his drink before letting out a sigh.

“i wonder when they’ll finally grow a pair and ask him out, or just do something about it,” hao wonders out loud as he stares off into the crowd. “it’s almost painful to watch. i feel like i need to play cupid.”

“wait, why haven’t you been helping them out?”

hanbin’s question has matthew laughing in disbelief. “you think i haven’t? i’ve done almost everything to push them. i even told them all the signs that show he’s clearly interested, but y/n won’t budge. i’m surprised they’ve been sane enough to not say anything even while drunk.”

it almost seems like their conversation summoned jaehyun into the kitchen as he comes rushing to them. “oh, speak of the devil. we were just talking about you,” matthew says with a smile until he sees worry taking over jaehyun’s features.

“guys, i think y/n had too much to drink.”

matthew stands up straight. “where are they?”

“in the bathroom with julie.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to you while jaehyun follows. “what even happened?”

“y/n was fine, i swear. with how they were acting, we all thought they were just tipsy. but it was like watching a sudden switch from that to… genuinely almost passing out.”

it’s not that matthew doesn’t trust jaehyun. if anything, he would trust him any other day to watch over you, but tonight’s events only show that jaehyun still has much to learn about you. the guilt in his voice only shows how much he cares.

as soon as matthew spots sungho and natty outside of the bathroom, he rushes to them. “oh, thank god you’re here. julie is helping them freshen up right now,” sungho says.

“we weren’t trying to get them blackout drunk, we swear. we really thought they were okay, but i don’t think they ate enough before drinking. me and julie were helping y/n as they were throwing up but they kept looking for you.”

matthew rubs his chin over natty’s explanation. “can i go in?”

“uh, let me check.” natty knocks on the door before swinging it open.

“matthew, we’re sorry. we really didn’t know,” jaehyun apologizes.

before matthew can say anything, julie exits the bathroom. “i think they puked out whatever they could. just make sure they stay close to the toilet.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to the doorway. he sees your hunched figure by the bathtub as you sit on the tiled-floor. in your drunken state, you don’t notice him as you quietly sing a melody.

matthew should’ve been filled with worry. yet, he thinks back to natty’s words, and the image of you looking for him plays in his mind—and it’s a smile that he can’t get rid of.

once he closes the door behind him, your eyes snap to him. “matthew! you’re here.” your slurred words bring him to a chuckle.

matthew remembers the last time you were this drunk; it’s funny to find you in the same situation after telling him multiple times that you wouldn’t drink that much ever again. he crouches to your side, taking in the sight of your disheveled state. “y/n, i thought we weren’t going to drink that much anymore.”

“i know,” you hiccup before your eyes shut, “i’m sorry.”

sure, you were always a mess whenever you drank this much, but you were never intolerable—never to matthew. (after all, he’d deal with you in your most intoxicated state over the others.)

his hand reaches out to tuck some strands behind your ear. at the presence of his warmth, your cheek snuggles against his palm. “you don’t have to be sorry. it’s okay.” you melt into his touch.

without thinking, his thumb caresses your cheek, etching invisible shapes onto your skin. he watches you twitch over the action, and your eyes meet him once more.

matthew’s ready to draw his hand back, help you stand up and escort you back to your place—

“you’re so pretty.”

his movements halt. matthew doesn’t know if he heard you right or if the alcohol is getting to him as well.

“huh?”

and the next thing you say stops him from breathing. “you’re so cute.”

it’s not unusual for you to compliment him, really, but something’s different about now. maybe it’s the alcohol or the distance between you two, but all matthew knows is that your words carried some weight different from other instances.

perhaps now is the worst time for matthew to be stuck in a daze. you’re drunk. he shouldn’t be making a fuss over the nonsense you spout, which is why he fails to catch the telltale signs of your impending nausea. (and you clearly wouldn’t have caught yourself in your intoxicated state.)

before you both know it, you throw up on yourself, and that finally snaps matthew out of a haze. he’s quick to grab the trashcan and bring it close to you. as you vomit, he holds your hair back. it keeps on going, and going, and going—at least matthew will take that as a clear sign that you’re done for the night.

on the next day, matthew asks if you remember what you said last night. when he’s met by your confusion, he knows better than to not think anymore of what you said then.

(and instead of sharing your slurred words, he tells you of the vomiting mishap in the bathroom. jesus fucking christ, i am not drinking ever again, you say in embarrassment.)

ever since that night, matthew has made it a habit to ask about your progress with jaehyun. it’s not that he’s running away from the events of that night. after all, hanbin’s right; matthew should do a better job in playing cupid for you and jaehyun. yet, all questions pertaining to your relationship with the boy were always met with a shrug and a refusal to dive into the details.

a few months pass. something romantic has yet to develop between you and jaehyun. at this point, matthew is feeling hopeless about the future you dream with that boy, but he isn’t the type to give up. he knows that there’s something between you two—all you need is a push.

“happy birthday, gyuvin!” everyone cheers as their cups clink against each other.

the birthday boy grins as he leans on ricky’s shoulder. “thanks, everyone. i’m glad you guys are here,” he mumbles. his cheeks have gone red and his words are starting to slur. considering how long the party has been going, matthew isn’t surprised to see gyuvin very much intoxicated.

for his birthday, he decided to invite his friends from his other social circles; basketball jocks, gaming nerds, and even student council folks take over his house as they talk and play over drinks. gyuvin thinks now would be the best time for all of his friends to meet. still, most of the group sticks together.

“you know, you should just hire me to bartend for your parties. everyone in this party seems to be chugging the drinks i mix for them,” jiwoong jokes as he bumps his shoulder against gyuvin.

“isn’t the next party going to be halloween? are we even planning to host one?” hanbin asks.

taerae tries to recall the previous arrangement. “didn’t we agree to spend halloween with yujin?”

“nah, we decided on christmas. yujin said he has plans for halloween, so we can host or just find another party to crash.” gunwook’s response brings the whole group to look at him. he raises his hands in defense. “don’t look at me! i’m not offering to host.”

“does myungjae not plan to host one?” hao’s question seems to be directed at matthew with how his eyes are on him.

jiwoong brings his hands together. “perfect! he might hire me.”

matthew rolls his shoulders back. ever since he tried playing cupid, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to go to him for anything related to you and jaehyun. first, it was when gunwook wanted to know about jaehyun’s schedule. next, it was gyuvin when he asked if jaehyun and his friends would be attending this party.

it’s not like matthew knew everything about myung jaehyun.

(unfortunately, it doesn’t help that he only has jaehyun’s schedule because he had to find a way to make you spend time with him. what doesn’t help his case any more is that he only knew of jaehyun’s attendance because he wanted to make use of this party to push you to do something.)

“i wouldn’t know.” matthew takes a sip of his drink. “and, wouldn’t hanbin know? he’s closer to myungjae than i am.”

“we should just ask him. where is he, anyway?” hanbin looks around.

“probably with y/n, or something,” ricky jokes before swaying in his spot with gyuvin. “any update on that? what’s been going on with them.”

all matthew does is shrug in response.

“guys, hear me out…” gyuvin calls on the group’s attention. “truth or dare.”

a beat passes.

“let’s go find myungjae.”

“yah! it’s my birthday.” gyuvin pouts over hao’s reaction. “don’t you guys think it’ll be fun?”

jiwoong scoffs at gyuvin’s question. “fun? the last time we played, it resulted in someone losing their clothes and me almost losing my job from a tweet you guys made.”

“i thought you hated your job, anyway.” taerae’s comment results in a scolding from jiwoong. “what?! i’m just pointing it out.”

while some were against the idea, others were onboard with gyuvin’s idea. “i’m sure it’ll be fun. let’s get myungjae and the others to join in as well,” gunwook suggests.

then, it hits matthew that this is it—this is the opportunity that he needs to push you. under the guise of a simple and fun game of truth or dare, he could maximize whatever option you choose. “i’m in.”

everyone ends up agreeing with gyuvin’s game. from there on, all matthew needs to do is grab you and jaehyun and hope that his plan moves forward. (and get his other friends to join, sure.)

matthew is lucky that he’s able to spot julie in a sea of students. while she’s busy chatting with the seniors, he realizes that you and jaehyun aren’t with her. he continues to move through the crowd. the last thing he wants is to see you too drunk to function, especially when the universe presented him with the perfect opportunity for you and jaehyun.

yet, it comes to his surprise that he sees you in the corner, whispering into the ear of your crush with your hand against his chest. the grin on jaehyun’s face is enough for matthew.

maybe you didn’t need your friend’s help. just from the distance (or the lack of it), matthew thinks you might have everything under control. that means that matthew can sit back and allow you two to unfold this romance.

but there’s a sting in matthew’s chest. he’s sure it’s not a heart attack; it should come in a form of squeezing, and the pain should spread throughout his body. yet, the one he’s experiencing is merely an ache. maybe he should hold himself back from drinking any more.

“have you found y/n?” gunwook rests his hand on matthew’s shoulder. before matthew can respond, gunwook spots you and jaehyun. “myungjae! y/n!” at his call, you two snap your attention to them. matthew can already tell how intoxicated you are from how you spin your head to his direction. “come! we’re gonna play a game.” with that, gunwook takes his leave.

matthew’s suspicions are further proven with your inability to walk straight to him. “matthew! there you are,” you giggle as your arm links with his. your hiccup brings matthew to look at jaehyun.

“how much did they have this time?”

“less than the last time, but i’d still argue quite a lot.”

while matthew and jaehyun try to find the group, you continue to latch onto matthew’s arm as you walk sluggishly. “do you not drink a lot?” matthew asks jaehyun.

the boy hums for a moment. “i do, but i think it’s better if i drink less when i’m around y/n. at least i’d be sober enough to take care of them.”

matthew has no reason to doubt jaehyun, especially with an answer like that. he knows that jaehyun would care for any of his friends; jaehyun’s always been the type to help out his friends with any task, but his choice to take that extra step tells matthew enough of his adoration for you.

“what are you guys talking about? are you talking about me?” you slur the question as you tug on matthew’s arm. “it better be good things.”

matthew can’t help but laugh.

as soon as matthew and jaehyun spot the rest of their friends gathering into a circle around a bottle, the three of you quickly find your own spots to settle into.

jaehyun takes a seat near sungho, leaving some space beside him. before matthew can go somewhere farther to sit, your grip on his arm holds him back. “hey, stay with me.” matthew’s eyes flicker between your drunken expression and jaehyun’s gaze fixed on him and you.

“you’re okay. you’ll be with myungjae.”

matthew’s confident that you would agree to sit beside jaehyun. after all, the boy took care of you for most of the night. yet, your grip never falters, and nothing could’ve prepared him for the last sentence you mumble, one only for him to hear.

“no. want you with me.”

matthew stills. the music becomes muffled and the chatter surrounding him falls silent. instead, the beating of his heart fills his ears as heat rises to his cheeks—and he doesn’t know why.

“hey! sit down!” gyuvin calls him out. with all eyes on you two, matthew doesn’t want to upset you any further. if he pushed to sit somewhere else, it would only cause a scene, and that’s the last thing he wants on his friend’s birthday. matthew finds himself sinking into a spot beside you.

the game proceeds accordingly, where most chug some more alcohol with every round that passes. secrets spill out of people’s mouths and laughter seems to fill the air. and for some reason, with all the times that’s passed, you stayed leaning against matthew.

at least you weren’t drinking along with the others.

after multiple interrogations and embarrassing dares, taerae spins the bottle. “please please please, don’t make it me again,” he prays as everyone watches the bottle go in circles.

“i’d laugh if you had to do another one,” gunwook says before taking another shot. “actually, i’m going to hope it lands on you!”

taerae tackles his friend to the ground over his comment, making him yell out complaints. yet, the universe works in taerae’s favor—and also matthew’s.

“oh my god, finally!” taerae cheers as he sees the bottle pointing at you.

you blink a couple of times. “oh, fuck me.” your head finds its spot behind your hands.

“i have been waiting for this one.” taerae rubs his hands together. “truth or dare?”

you have always been the type to choose truth. with the group’s history with dares, you weren’t the type to take that risk, which is why it comes as a surprise to everyone when you say, “fuck it, give me a dare.”

this is it. this is the opportunity that matthew needed. “i have a dare!” he beats everyone from spitting out any useless suggestion. as soon as all eyes are on him, he glances at jaehyun before saying, “i dare you to do seven minutes in heaven.”

your eyes go wide over matthew’s suggestion. “what the fuck?” you smack his arm. “no way in hell am i going to do that!”

“nu-uh! a dare is a dare,” ricky argues. “don’t try to get out of this.”

gyuvin speaks up, “if it helps, you don’t have to do anything with anyone. take this as your opportunity to bond with someone, get your heart-to-heart talk or something. but you can also make out with them, we don’t really care.” before he can take another shot, ricky stops him from doing so.

you groan at your friends’ insistence. “but with who?”

the stars are aligning for matthew. he’s about to chime in with the perfect name—

“what if we just spin the bottle again?” all hope shatters for matthew, and myung jaehyun is to blame. “that can determine who will be with y/n. it’s completely by chance.”

before matthew can interject, gyuvin claps at jaehyun’s suggestion. “you know what? you’re so fucking smart. let’s do that.” with how intoxicated the birthday boy is, no one seems to go against his idea, including you, and matthew fears what will unfold once that bottle lands on someone that isn’t jaehyun.

as soon as gyuvin reaches out to spin the bottle, matthew shuts his eyes in hopes that the universe would listen to him in the same way it did with taerae. he’s not even doing this for himself—it’s all for you. he wants you to win as much as you do with yourself. (he hopes that, at least. he needs you to believe that you have something with jaehyun as much as he does. if you didn’t, then this would go nowhere.)

“oh.”

matthew says one final prayer. he opens his eyes at the sound of gyuvin’s reaction, and what he doesn’t expect to see is the bottle pointing right at him. matthew’s convinced that the universe is going against him.

“well, lead the way, birthday boy,” jiwoong says.

matthew glances at you, expecting to see disappointment, but he only sees an expression he’s never seen before—and one he can’t decipher.

it doesn’t take a while until you and matthew are shoved into gyuvin’s walk-in closet. gunwook says they’ll keep the game going, but matthew attempts one last time to get out of this dare, only for the door to be shut right in front of his face.

as the shuffling of footsteps grow distant, matthew finally accepts defeat. he looks back to see you sitting on the floor with eyes shut. maybe you need these minutes to sober up. after all, who is the best person to take care of you if not him?

matthew finds himself on the floor with you. seven minutes could easily pass with you two; not a single word needs to be said. but tonight, time seems to stretch into an eternity. matthew hates it.

he takes in the sight of you; your shirt’s disheveled and your nose scrunches from the heat of the room and alcohol. still, most things remain the same. your arms cross with every moment your eyes long for rest and your steady heart sounds throughout the room from every exhale.

since when did matthew notice all the small things about you? it’s not like you two were friends longer than he is with hanbin. he still finds himself forgetting trivial things about his friends—with you, it comes easy.

your eyes peel open, and for the first time, matthew’s nervous around you.

“you feeling better?”

you nod before sitting up straight. “yeah, i think the alcohol is leaving my system.”

“that’s good.”

seconds go by.

“so,” matthew clears his throat, “how are you and myungjae?”

a laugh escapes you, not like the ones whenever he cracks a joke but something he’s never heard before. “we’re okay.”

matthew waits a couple of moments until he realizes you weren’t going to expound. “oh, so now, i don’t get to hear you yap about your crush?” his comment manages to earn a laugh he’s familiar with.

but it’s turned into a reality. he can’t remember the last time you actually talked to him about myung jaehyun. if anything, it’s almost like you don’t want to talk about the boy to him.

matthew’s never been the type to force you to share anything, really, but he realizes it’s been a while since you mentioned the boy’s name. it’s impossible for him to ignore that. and tonight, he can blame his curiosity on the alcohol.

“are you hiding something?”

“it’s not that.”

matthew hums. “then, what is it?

silence falls on you two.

he takes the lack of your response as a sign. to not push any further. to not be curious. to respect your privacy.

to sit back and watch it unfold.

to forget all that you’ve said on that drunken night.

“myungjae and i are just friends.” matthew’s eyes snap up to meet yours. “we’ve always been just friends.”

“but that can change. i mean, i could help you! i’ve seen how much he cares for you, i’m convinced he likes you—”

“matthew,” you cut him off, “like i said, we’re just friends.”

he frowns. “i’m confused. just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you can’t be something more.”

your breath hitches, and his confusion deepens.

“you really think that?”

it’s at this moment that matthew spots something different about you tonight, one he’s never been on the receiving end of to experience—your glossy eyes filled with strong, bittersweet yearning.

and he holds his breath before saying, “yes.”

the bass of the music fades away. the heat of the alcohol means nothing. matthew could care less about who he came with to this party.

right now, it’s just you two.

“i don’t like myungjae.” your reveal causes matthew to frown. “i haven’t liked him for a while.”

“oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

matthew has a million questions running through his head. what caused the change or heart? how long ago did you know that? is there something wrong with jaehyun and he never saw?

“i—”

“when—”

he shakes his head. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, it’s okay. what were you going to say?”

“it’s just… i wanted to know when you realized that.”

a chuckle leaves you. “even before hanbin’s graduation party.”

“you could’ve told me! if i had known, i wouldn’t have kept pushing you to do something with myungjae.” matthew hides his mouth in embarrassment.

you shake your head. “it’s okay. i didn’t tell you because…”

matthew notices your fingers fiddling with each other, an unconscious habit of yours whenever you’re anxious, and his confusion grows.

he doesn’t want you to think he can’t be trusted with your secrets, your stories, everything about you. after all, he wants to be your friend—your person—and how can he do that if you felt an ounce of shame to tell him that? he needed to let you know that—

“i like you.”

time stills for a moment.

for once, matthew doesn’t know what to say.

“time’s up!” the door swings open, revealing gunwook and taerae whose grins are lopsided. “did y’all enjoy the heart-to-heart?” gunwook’s question is an innocent, light-hearted one, but the silence hanging between you two is nothing of the sort.

before matthew knows it, you let out a giggle. “of course!” in your attempt to stand up, you almost lose your footing, causing taerae to reach out to you. “sorry. i don’t know why but i feel a lot drunker than before.”

your slurred words only makes taerae shake his head. “oh, my silly lil alcoholic. let’s keep it going!”

the three of you exit in high spirits. yet, matthew finds himself stuck in his spot.

stuck in his memories.

stuck in the last conversation.

stuck in your words.

stuck in denial.

“yah, matthew! hurry up! we’re still playing,” gyuvin shouts from outside of the room.

because you’re drunk. you probably didn’t mean anything you said, like how you didn’t mean what you said at the last party.

for the rest of the night, you continue to enjoy gyuvin’s birthday.

matthew attempts to do the same.

it’s been two months since that conversation. on the morning after the party, you admit to the group that you lost recollection of the events that transpired on gyuvin’s birthday. with how much the birthday boy drank, he found himself in the same boat as you. taerae says that it’s only best that you don’t remember anything from that night, mainly to save his pride.

but matthew remembers it all. he remembers how you looked at him that night, how your breath hitched, how long the silence was all before you lied.

and he knows you lied.

all it took was one sight of you on a date with jaehyun for him to realize that.

matthew couldn’t believe he showed up to the halloween party, not because he wasn’t the type to deny an invite, but because it’s being hosted by jaehyun.

he has nothing against him, really, but the conversation in the closet shifted everything; his dynamic with the boy, his thoughts surrounding your relationship with jaehyun, his feelings towards you. matthew prefers to keep his distance out of respect for you two.

that doesn’t mean he won’t talk about it with others.

“i really don’t think they’re together.”

“hanbin, did you completely forget what i said?” matthew shakes his head. “they were on a date.”

he finds himself in the kitchen dressed as saiki k with an almost-finished bottle of soju in his hand. while the rest of his friends were off somewhere, hanbin and hao, who were dressed in stitch and angel onesies, stayed with him.

hao takes a sip of his drink. “how’d you know it was a date? they could’ve been hanging out for all you know.”

“well…”

“see! you can’t even defend your point.”

matthew groans. “that doesn’t change anything. i’m sure of it. i mean, they came in a couples costume!”

“they’re matching with sungho, you airhead,” hao points out.

hanbin laughs before adding, “as the incredibles, too!”

their doubtful reactions causes matthew to roll his eyes. he chugs the remaining contents of his bottle before grabbing himself another. “i thought i could trust you two.”

“and you can!” hanbin tries to snatch the bottle but fails. “dammit. just be responsible, okay? it’s already hard enough dealing with jiwoong and taerae when they’re drunk.”

hao sighs. “and you know, jiwoong’s drinking heavy tonight because he got laid off. hoping ricky can help him out.” matthew twists the cap open and drinks straight from the bottle once more. “hey, i’m still saying you should trust what we’re saying. whatever y/n shared in that closet might not be a lie.”

despite their attempts to convince matthew, he knows the truth. there’s no point in trying to prove him otherwise. so for now, he’ll drink the night away.

“i’ll see you guys later, or something.”

“matthew—”

he doesn’t spare a second to hear their protests. as much as he loves his friends, he needs some space to wallow in silence. all he longs for is a quiet space away from everyone with enough alcohol to forget everything.

“matthew!”

this is the last voice he wanted to hear, especially at his state. he sees jaehyun and sungho together dressed in black and red.

“oh my god, you’re matching with riwoo! you’re saiki k, right?” sungho asks.

matthew forces out a smile before nodding. “yeah. incredibles?” he points at the logo on their chests.

“yep! you should take a pic with riwoo!” jaehyun suggests

matthew would’ve agreed any other day, but he couldn’t talk to him. he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with the boy just because of his emotions. “myungjae, i would love to, but i have to go.”

“are you okay?”

when concern paints jaehyun’s features, matthew is reminded once more that there is nothing to hate about him. he needs to get over this whole thing. if you’re happy with jaehyun, he should learn how to be happy for you, too.

a sigh leaves matthew. “yes, sorry. i just need space, if that’s okay.”

“of course. i hope you’re okay. do you want me to bring you to a spot where it’s quiet?”

matthew shakes his head before reassuring the host, “it’s okay, i’ll figure it out on my own.” and with one final nod from jaehyun, matthew walks off.

he passes through the crowd, exchanging brief greetings with familiar faces, until he reaches a hall filled with doors. most rooms were already occupied, and the last thing matthew wants is to know what they’re doing. all he cares about is finding an unoccupied room where he can drink the night, the confusion, the pain, away.

once he reaches the final door, he quietly begs the universe to give him what he needs. as he swings the door open, he notices that the lights are off, and that’s enough for him to believe it’s unoccupied. without sparing a second thought, he shuts the door behind him before letting out a sigh.

it takes him a few seconds for his vision to adjust. with the moonlight cascading over the walls, he’s able to take in his surroundings. as soon as he spots a shelf filled with poetry books, he realizes he’s in jaehyun’s room. matthew couldn’t believe what the universe is making him undergo. he found himself in the bedroom of someone he desperately needed to get away from, but he’ll make do with the last unoccupied space—or that’s what he thought.

“matthew?”

“holy shit!” he jumps along with his heart. as he clenches his chest, his eyes dart to the source of the voice—only to see his friend, his supposed something. your chin rests on jaehyun’s mattress as you stare at him; the same, glossy eyes he witnessed in the closet. matthew clears his throat before standing up straight. “sorry, i thought i was alone.”

you shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “no, sorry i didn’t say anything as soon as you came in.”

a beat passes.

“why… uhm, why are you sitting in the dark?” his chest throbs as he asks the question.

what if you were there to meet with jaehyun later in the night? or what if you had already met with him? maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason after all.

“needed to be somewhere quiet,” you answer. he watches you take a sip from a big bottle of vodka. “somewhere away from the party.”

if you need space, matthew is going to give you that. after all, you were in this room before he arrived. “okay, i’ll go leave,” he says as he turns his back on you.

“no, it’s ok—”

“it’s okay. you were here first, so—”

“matthew.”

how your voice wavers is enough to stop him. from leaving the room. from wallowing in pain.

from abandoning you.

he looks back, only to be greeted by the sight of you in tears. the moonlight shines against your figure, making you glow in the dark room, and he feels all resolve crumble.

matthew rushes to you. as he takes a seat beside you, he sets the bottle on the floor before his hands reach out to cup your face. “what’s wrong?” he asks as his thumbs wipe the tears.

you don’t spare him an answer; all you do is stare right back at him as the tears stream down your face.

matthew think’s he fucked up. was he busy with his issues to notice yours? did you need him? (as much as he needs you?)

yet, as soon as your hand reaches up to hold his, he realizes that this is all wrong; the distance, the physical touch, everything about this doesn’t respect what you have with jaehyun.

“i’m sorry.” he rips his hands away. “i shouldn’t have done that.”

his apology brings another flood of tears from you. “i thought we were friends.”

“we are friends.”

“then, if we’re friends, why couldn’t you give me an answer back then?”

matthew’s heart stills. “w–what?”

“i remember everything.”

the axis of his world tilts.

“from the bathroom to the closet,” you sniffle, “i remember what i said, and i meant everything.”

all he knew then meant nothing to the present.

matthew can’t tell if the alcohol was affecting his senses. maybe he’s hallucinating, or his intoxicated mind is planting delusions that he wishes were part of his reality.

but he blinks hard, and he still sees you.

“please say something.”

matthew takes one breath. “i just… i don’t understand. i mean, i’ve been going like, 5 months, thinking those were meaningless words. even in the closet, you said you were too drunk. and you always claimed you had no memory the next day. i even thought you were on a date with jaehyun the other day.” as you scrunch your eyebrows at his admission, he takes it as a sign to explain. “i don’t know. i saw you two alone a few weeks ago, and i just assumed so.”

“we were just hanging out. there’s nothing going on between us.”

he shakes his head. “well, how am i supposed to know that? when i’ve been going through these months thinking all you said was bullshit until now?”

when guilt flashes in your features, he takes a moment to let his words sink in.

he watches you fiddle with your fingers before saying, “i just want to know why you did all that.”

“is it enough to say that i was scared? i mean, i used the alcohol as liquid courage. but in both times, i couldn’t tell if you felt the same, so, i panicked and said i don’t remember anything.”

one thing that matthew knows about you is that you were afraid to take risks—no, not in decision making but in relationships. he knew that the first time you held yourself back from introducing yourself to jaehyun, and he remembers when you finally approached the boy with at least 5 shots into the night.

“can you say something? anything?” you ask.

and all times, he understood your hesitancy. every time you second guess yourself, he’s the only person who knows when to act as your safe space or a pushing force.

“tell me again. tell me what you told me in the closet, i need to hear it from you.” but when your mouth parts open, ready to repeat the three-word phrase, he cuts you off. “when we’re sober.”

this time, he wants to know if he’s a risk worth taking—without the alcohol.

“tell me when morning comes, then you’ll know.” he sees confusion flicker in your eyes. “because i can’t risk anything when we’ve drunk our hearts out tonight.”

if there’s another thing matthew knows about you, it’s that you hate unfinished conversations. yet, a nod from you is enough for him to know why it would have to wait until tomorrow.

from there, matthew stands up before taking his leave.

all he can hope is that you won’t forget the next day.

when morning comes, matthew can hear a knocking on his door. he makes his way to the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes, before swinging it open.

“i like you.”

his eyes snap open to see you, whose eyes aren’t like the other nights but with something he’s familiar with—hope.

“i like you,” you repeat, “and i’m telling it to you now, without the alcohol.”

this time, matthew doesn’t have to doubt your words. he doesn’t have to shut down his friends’ attempts to comfort him. he doesn’t have to deny what he feels towards you.

without saying anything, his hands dart towards your waist before pulling you close to him. shock casts onto your features. as one thumb finds its way under your shirt, etching constellations that you two will only know of, his other hand reaches to tuck your hair.

his lips meet yours. as his hand travels down to caress your face, your arms slowly find their place around his neck. somehow, everything feels right, almost like you two had done this before. yet, the taste of your lips is one he’s never had. as your nose brushes against his, he can’t help but breathe you in like you’re the last thing keeping him alive.

as you attempt to pull back, he tries to chase your lips. “matthew,” you call out his name before he draws you back in for another intoxicating kiss, one where the buzz of alcohol could never compare to.

“don’t,” he mumbles in between, “let me have this.” he pulls you into his dorm with ease and shuts the door behind you. matthew pushes you against the door with his lips still on yours, hands exploring your figure.

from there, you don’t protest.

maybe he’s wanted you much longer than you did. maybe he’s wanted you ever since you revealed your crush on jaehyun and he never allowed himself to dwell on his own feelings. maybe he’s wanted you since the first time he’s ever set eyes on you.

but one thing he knows is that he wants you—much more than you do with him.

(and he’d never allow you to think he wants you any less.)

networks taglist: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet @kstrucknet

zb1 permanent tag list: @deinsleeps

story taglist: @seokkiez @loserlvrss @itaerae

@blandtako @gong-fourz @rentenwins @pandagirl753

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #kstrucknet #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #seok matthew #seok matthew x reader #seok matthew imagines #matthew x reader #zb1 angst #seok matthew angst #seok matthew fluff #zb1 crack #seok matthew crack

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st7rnioioss · 9 months ago

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ * "I really want to kiss you." pt. 2

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part 2 to "i really want to kiss you", go read that! (im avoiding doing a summary)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: fluff, kissing, swearing

part one

a/n: i didn’t really expect to make part two, but here we are. just a bunch of fluff, no plot really LMAO.

───────── 🐇

Friday, 9:23 pm

“Hey, you home yet?”

“Not yet, still on my way. You looked good today”

“Stop, I’m blushing”

“What I’d do to sit beside you and watch”

“Matthew, you should concentrate on not getting run over. Cut the flirting!!!”

“Sorrryyy, I can’t help it, it’s not my fault you’re practically perfect”

“I LOVE YOI SO MUCH STOP”

Sunday, 8:47 pm

“Oh my God, finally! I can’t believe it took you guys that long,” Madi exclaimed on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, he honestly kinda took me by surprise. I didn’t actually expect him to kiss me, but I had my suspicions,” you said, tucking yourself up in your covers in your soft bed.

“Tell me everything tomorrow at school, please! Also, do you think Nick and Chris knows?” Madi asked.

“Yeah, Nick texted me that Matt came home stumbling into the kitchen, yelling ‘I finally kissed her!’ and then proceeded to smile and ramble about the whole thing. His parents knows too,” you couldn’t help but blush at the imagination.

“Stop, that’s adorable. Anyways, I gotta go, I’m sorry! Tell me all about it tomorrow!” she said, the frown practically being audible.

“No it’s fine, Madi! I love you!” you said just before hanging up.

Monday, 12:21 am

“And then he asked me to kiss me again,” you giggled, taking a sip of your soda as you watched Matt turn beet red.

“Shut up, you’re embarrassing me,” he mumbled, playing with his lunch food as he looked down at you beside him. Chris was playfully hitting Matt’s shoulder, a proud expression on his faces, his mouth full of food. Nate was laughing at Chris, trying not to spit his food out.

“Finally! This was honestly painful. If only you knew how many times he came home just to ramble about you. Exhausting!” Nick sent a look to Madi who nodded, both smiling playfully at Matt. This made you blush, grabbing Matt’s hand under the table, looking up at him to smile softly.

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now, so you guys can stop complaining now,” you laughed, squeezing Matt’s hand. Matt sent a cheesy smile, giving your cheek a quick peck.

“Gross. At least don’t kiss during lunch,” Chris complained.

“Chris, shut up and eat your food with a closed mouth,” you mumbled, the whole table laughing at Chris’s offended expression.

Monday, 7:49 pm

“Matt, you’ve got to be kidding,” you laughed while yelling at Matt. You were walking on the sidewalk, the pouring rain rapidly soaking your shirt.

First he had suggested that you just took an uber home from the McDonald’s, but then he got the fantastic idea to walk instead. You liked the idea until it’s started raining heavily.

“Oh my God, my mom is gonna kill me,” Matt laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder, looking down at you, completely drenched. In a white shirt, of course.

“Well, it was your idea!” you protested, crossing your arms because you got colder.

“Oh? So it’s my fault? You agreed to walk instead of taking an Uber!” he laughed, poking your cheek. You grabbed his finger with a soft smile, rolling your eyes at him.

“Stop fucking poking me, Matt” you lowered your voice, not letting go of his finger. He then eventually got free from your grip, intertwining his fingers with yours. He just smiled at you as an apology, and it sure as hell worked.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself. I like spending time with you, even if it’s in the pouring rain,” he shot a somewhat shy smile, his eyes darting between your eyes and your chest. He then eventually settled on your eyes, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

“You’re so gorgeous, even completely soaked. I love you, you know that, right? I’m glad I decided to kiss you on that park bench,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making you halt your walk.

“Oh stop it, Matthew, you’re making me flustered,” you blushed, covering your face in your hands.

“Hey, don’t do that, I want to see your pretty face, just like I told you!” he giggled, grabbing your hands to lower them from your face. You locked eyes with him, reaching for his now soaked hair to move it out of your way, pecking his forehead gently.

“I love you way more,” you cheekily smiled, the both of you continuing to walk, Matt’s arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist.

a/n: i’m screaminggngnnggg😕😕😕 chris fluff coming soon😈

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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five-and-dimes · 9 months ago

Note

Run Away (But We're Running in Circles), please!

Ah, this is one I've talked about before but it finally has a title! This is the fic about Dream not believing he's loved on purpose (he thinks Hob and Death just "love everyone", not actually him specifically). This is also the one I'm working on now and am planning on finishing next! (Goal is to finish it before Valentine's Day 🤞)

Have a snippet of Hob recruiting more to his cause:

Sniffling, Hob glanced up at the raven, watching as he shifted on his feet anxiously. Hob blinked in realization as he spoke, “You really care about him, huh?” “I mean, yeah, obviously,” Matthew shrugged as much as he was able, “Honestly it’s kind of hard not to. I mean have you seen the guy? Like, he’s supposed to be this all-powerful force of the universe, but he feels more like a kitten you find hiding from the rain under your car, y’know?” Hob barked out a laugh, “I don’t think he’d appreciate that comparison, but you’re absolutely not wrong.” “It’s not like he didn’t care about me first!” Matthew states, almost defensively. He flutters over, settling on the couch cushion next to Hob and he gets the impression that they should be sharing a couple beers right now, gossiping about their mutual friend, “He tries soooo hard to be all cold and aloof, but he knew me for five seconds and tried to keep me from doing my literal job ‘cause he was worried I’d get hurt.” “Yeah, that sounds like him,” Hob smirked, shaking his head fondly. “I can’t believe I had to die to finally get a good boss,” Matthew huffed, “Honestly that’s the craziest part of my afterlife. Turned into a raven? I can shrug that off. I enjoy my job and love my boss? THAT’S the part I have trouble believing.” Snapping his head over, Hob blinks for a long moment. Matthew’s feathers fluff up at his staring, “What? What did I do?” Slowly, a grin spreads across Hob’s face, leaning forward gleefully. “Want to help me with something?”

#Hob's going to start handing out pamphlet on the sidewalk #“Excuse me have you considered loving Dream of the Endless? 🥺”#the sandman #dreamling #I'm really happy with how this one it turning out #even though one of my fluffy scenes turned into angst lololol #my writing

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 1 month ago

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Between the Ropes.. a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 13: Weight

Rhea lay in the hospital bed, the sterile room now feeling somewhat familiar after the events of today. The constant buzz of medical equipment and the rhythmic beeping of monitors created a backdrop to her ongoing ordeal. She had just finished a FaceTime call with her boss, Paul, who had wrapped up a press release regarding her situation. Now, she prepared to speak with Damian.

Jey, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the day, had managed to fall asleep in a chair on the other side of the room. His quiet breathing was not adding to the tension and uncertainty that had defined the day.

As Rhea settled back into her pillows, she dialed Damian's number. The screen flickered to life, and Damian’s familiar face appeared. His expression shifted from a casual smile to one of concern as he took in Rhea’s weary appearance.

“Hey, Rhea. How are you holding up?” Damian asked, his tone filled with genuine worry.

Rhea sighed, her eyes heavy with the weight of the day’s events. “It’s been rough. I’ve been through a lot today. I can’t even remember most of what happened before I ended up here. Jonathan found me bleeding and battered outside his place. I lost the baby...”

Damian’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God, Rhea. That’s awful. I can’t believe what you’ve been through.”

Rhea nodded, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s been overwhelming. The doctors said I needed a transfusion, and Jonathan was the only match. I’ve got Samoan blood now. It’s strange to think about.”

Damian’s face reflected a mix of disbelief and fascination. “So you... you have Samoan blood now? That’s incredible. I mean, it’s a profound connection, but the circumstances are just...”

Rhea interrupted, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s a lot to process. The haka they performed for me, the ceremony—it all felt so intense and significant. I’m now part of something bigger, a family and a culture I wasn’t really connected to before.”

Damian shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “It’s a huge shift, Rhea. Being linked to the Samoan Bloodline is a big deal, especially with everything that’s happened. You’ve been through so much, and now you’re intertwined with their culture in such a profound way.”

Rhea looked over at Jey, who was still sleeping soundly, and her voice softened. “Yeah, it’s been a whirlwind. I’m grateful for the support from Jonathan and his family, but it’s all a lot to take in. I just hope things can start to settle down soon.”

Damian gave a reassuring nod. “You’ve got a lot of people around you who care and are there for you. You’ll get through this. Just focus on your recovery, and take things one step at a time.”

As the call ended, Rhea set her phone aside and glanced at Jey, still resting peacefully. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on her, but the support from Damian and the presence of Jey brought her a small measure of comfort.

Rhea tried to find some peace, the hospital room door opened, and two detectives stepped inside. They were dressed in standard detective attire, their serious expressions matching the gravity of their investigation.

Rhea glanced at them, her unease evident.

One of the detectives, a tall man with a sharp gaze, introduced himself. "Mrs. Adams, I'm Detective Harris, and this is Detective Martinez. We need to ask you a few questions regarding the incident earlier today."

Rhea nodded, her voice weary but cooperative.

"Okay, what do you need to know?"

Detective Harris started with a straightforward question. "We're trying to piece together what happened. We noticed you've been in contact with quite a few people, but not your husband, Matthew Adams. Can you explain why that might be?"

At the mention of Matthew's name, a jolt of memory flashed through Rhea's mind. The fragments of the earlier confrontation with Matthew began to coalesce, and she recalled with painful clarity the details of the assault.

The memory of Matthew's anger, the violence, and the pain he inflicted on her overwhelmed her.

Rhea's voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes filled with anguish. "Matthew... he's the one who did this to me. He found out I was leaving him for Jey. I told him I didn't love him anymore, and he... he beat me up. He kicked me, and I thought I was going to die."

The detectives exchanged a quick, concerned glance, their focus sharpening on the gravity of the situation. Detective Martinez, his tone more gentle now, asked, "Are you sure about this, Mrs. Adams? Are you certain it was your husband who attacked you?"

Rhea nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Yes, I'm sure. I was going to leave him, and he... he just lost it."

Across the room, Jey, who had been napping, awoke to the unsettling conversation. His face hardened with a mix of anger and hurt as he listened to Rhea's confession. The realization that Matthew was responsible for the violence against Rhea fueled his rage. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain his emotions.

Jey finally spoke up, his voice filled with tension. "Detectives, I need to know if Rhea and I have to stay in Orlando. We both have careers that require us to travel. This situation is serious, but we can't be tied down here indefinitely."

Detective Harris looked at Jey, recognizing the urgency in his voice. "We understand your concern sir. We'll need to conduct a thorough investigation and gather evidence before we can provide any definitive answers. For now, we'll do our best to expedite the process and keep you informed."

Rhea looked at Jey, her heart aching with gratitude and worry. Jey's support and determination to navigate the situation, despite his own pain, was a testament to their bond.

As the detectives continued their questioning, Rhea and Jey both felt the weight of the situation pressing heavily on them. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but the strength they drew from each other and the support of those around them offered a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil.

After the detectives left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Jey, his anger and frustration still simmering, turned to Rhea with a concerned expression.

“Rhea,” Jey began, his voice soft but firm, “where would you like to stay while we’re here? We need to figure out accommodations.”

Rhea looked at him, her eyes still red from crying, and shrugged wearily. “I don’t really care, Jey. Just... just stay with me.”

Jey nodded, determination set in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here with you for as long as you need. We’ll figure out the details later.”

He moved closer, gently cupping her face in his hands. With a tender, reassuring kiss, he conveyed all the love and support he felt. The touch of his lips was a small comfort, a brief escape from the crushing weight of her grief.

Rhea’s eyes met his, and she could only manage a weak nod, her emotions too raw to respond more fully. The loss of their baby weighed heavily on her, casting a shadow over everything. Jey’s promise to stay by her side was a lifeline in the sea of her sorrow.

“Thank you, Jey,” Rhea whispered, her voice barely audible. “I need you here.”

Jey squeezed her hand gently, his own heart aching for her. “I’m here, Rhea. We’ll get through this together. No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you.”

As Rhea closed her eyes, trying to find some solace in Jey’s presence, the comfort of his promise provided a small beacon of hope. Despite the pain and uncertainty, having Jey by her side was a crucial source of strength in the dark hours that lay ahead.

Jey sat by Rhea’s side, holding her hand tightly as they both silently processed the overwhelming day. Their shared grief hung in the air, each tear and touch a quiet reflection of the bond they had. As they leaned on each other for comfort, they were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. A doctor entered, clipboard in hand, her expression calm but serious.

“Mr. Fatu, Mrs. Adams,” the doctor began, offering a gentle smile. “I wanted to let you both know that most of your vitals are starting to stabilize, Mrs. Adams. That’s a good sign. Your body is responding well to the blood transfusion, and your recovery looks promising.”

Rhea nodded slowly, taking in the information. “That’s good... I feel better, I think. Please call me Rhea.” She winced thinking of Matthew’s last name.

The doctor’s expression softened as she continued, her tone careful. “Rhea, I hope you noticed that you have a small cut on your stomach. I wanted to explain that we had to make a minor incision after discovering the baby no longer had a heartbeat. It was a difficult decision, but it was necessary for your health.”

Jey’s grip on Rhea’s hand tightened slightly, his heart aching as they both processed the words. Rhea swallowed hard, her fingers unconsciously moving to the bandage on her stomach.

“I understand,” Rhea whispered, her voice strained but calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jey nodded beside her, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “We get it. You did what you had to do.”

Rhea took a deep breath, shifting slightly in the bed. “Do you think I’ll be able to leave soon? I just... I don’t want to be here anymore.”

The doctor offered a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard, but it’s crucial for you to stay here overnight for observation. Your body’s still recovering, and we want to make sure there are no complications.”

Rhea sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but she nodded. “Alright... I understand.”

The doctor paused for a moment, glancing between Jey and Rhea before speaking again. “There’s one more thing. I wanted to ask if either of you would like to see the baby?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with emotion. Jey and Rhea exchanged a look, both of them caught off guard by the offer. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of the decision pressing down on them.

Jey’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What do you think, Rhea?”

Rhea looked down at her hands, her heart aching with the thought. She wasn’t sure if she could handle it, but at the same time, there was a part of her that needed closure, a part that wanted to see their child, even if just for a moment.

“I... I think we should,” Rhea finally said, her voice trembling. “I think we need to.”

Jey nodded, his hand never leaving hers. “Alright. We’ll see the baby.”

The doctor gave them a respectful nod. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As the doctor quietly left the room, Jey and Rhea sat in silence, bracing themselves for the emotional wave that was about to come. Though neither of them spoke, the shared understanding between them was clear—they would face this moment together, no matter how hard it was.

A few minutes passed in silence after the doctor left. Jey and Rhea sat together, their emotions swirling beneath the surface, their hearts heavy with grief and anticipation. The soft sound of wheels rolling into the room broke the quiet, and a nurse appeared, gently pushing a small cart.

At first, Rhea assumed it was more medicine or equipment, but as the nurse approached, the reality of the moment sank in. The cart wasn’t filled with medical supplies—it held their baby. Rhea’s breath caught in her throat, and Jey instinctively reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

The nurse spoke softly, her voice filled with compassion. “Your baby is very small, but if you’re ready, I encourage you both to hold your hands out together.”

Rhea and Jey exchanged a glance, their emotions too overwhelming for words. Slowly, almost in unison, they raised their hands together, palms open and trembling. The nurse carefully lifted the tiny, fragile bundle and gently placed the baby in their hands, cradling it between them.

Rhea’s heart stopped for a moment as she gazed down at the baby, so small and delicate. A wave of regret and sorrow hit her all at once. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered every time she had ever thought about abortion, every doubt, every fear. She had never imagined this—holding her child like this, so fragile, so still.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she stared down at the baby. “I... I can’t believe... I ever thought...”

Jey, too, was fighting back tears, his breath shaky as he held their child with Rhea. His heart was breaking, not just for the baby they lost but for the pain Rhea was carrying with her. “Rhea,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “It’s okay... you didn’t know. None of us knew.”

But Rhea shook her head, her tears falling freely. “I shouldn’t have ever thought that way. I didn’t want this, Jey. I never wanted this.”

Jey gently leaned his forehead against hers, trying to offer her comfort. “We didn’t want this, Rhea. But we’re here now. And we’re together.”

The nurse, standing quietly nearby, gave them the space to grieve, her presence a quiet reassurance that they could take as much time as they needed.

As Rhea continued to stare down at their baby, her heart ached with an overwhelming mixture of love and loss. She gently moved her thumb, brushing it lightly over the baby’s tiny form. Despite everything, this was their child, a life that was part of both of them.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the baby, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jey’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down at their baby. He had no words, only an immense sadness, but he held Rhea close, letting her know he was there with her in every moment of this heartbreak. Together, they mourned the loss of what could have been, their hands joined in holding their baby, both feeling the weight of a future that would never come.

Time had become irrelevant as Jey and Rhea sat together, their baby cradled in the palms of their hands. The world beyond the walls of the hospital room felt distant, almost unreal. The quiet hum of machinery was the only sound, but neither of them noticed. They had been holding their child for what felt like hours, each lost in their own heartache. The nurse had quietly left some time ago, giving them the space and privacy to mourn.

Rhea’s eyes were fixed on the tiny form in their hands, her face pale and tear-streaked. She felt like she had been hollowed out, her grief so overwhelming that it had consumed every part of her. She had cried so much that it seemed like she had no more tears left, only a dull, constant ache in her chest that wouldn’t ease. Her body was still weak from the trauma, but it was her heart that was shattered.

Jey watched her carefully, feeling his own sorrow pressing in on him. He was torn between his own grief and the need to be strong for her, but it was impossible to hold back the tears any longer. He let them fall, quietly, his heart breaking all over again with every breath he took. He had never imagined anything like this—losing their baby, seeing Rhea like this, feeling so helpless.

After what felt like an eternity, Jey softly broke the silence, his voice hoarse and raw. “Rhea...” he started, his throat tight. “We need to talk about... what happens next. About the baby.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze still locked on their child. It was like she was somewhere else, lost in her own grief. Jey’s heart ached for her, but he knew they couldn’t stay like this forever, no matter how much they wanted to hold on.

“We can... we can cremate the baby,” Jey continued, his voice thick with emotion. “We don’t have to do a funeral if that’s too much for you. It can just be us... something private.”

The word “funeral” hit Rhea like a punch to the chest, the reality of it making her stomach turn. She couldn’t imagine standing at a graveside, saying goodbye to the baby she had barely gotten to know. The thought of planning something like that, of being surrounded by people when all she wanted was to disappear, felt unbearable.

Her voice came out in a fragile whisper, barely audible. “I can’t... I can’t do a funeral, Jey. I just... I can’t.”

Her words cracked, and her whole body seemed to sag under the weight of the grief she was carrying. She felt utterly drained, like she had nothing left to give, not even the strength to make decisions.

Jey’s heart twisted at her words. He hated seeing her like this, so broken, so lost. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb rubbing over her skin in slow, comforting strokes. “You don’t have to,” he reassured her, his own voice trembling. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We’ll do whatever you need, Rhea.”

Rhea let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt like she was drowning in sorrow, her mind racing with guilt and regret. She looked down at their baby, so small, so fragile, and the weight of everything she had been through came crashing down on her.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t want this... I didn’t want any of this.”

Jey leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to hers, his own tears falling freely now. “I know, Rhea. I know. None of this is your fault. We didn’t want this either.”

For a long moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, their hands joined, cradling the tiny, still form of their child. The pain was suffocating, and the silence that filled the room was heavy with the weight of all that had been lost.

“I don’t know what to do,” Rhea whispered finally, her voice breaking again. “I don’t know how to keep going.”

Jey’s heart shattered at her words, but he held her tighter, refusing to let her fall into the darkness. “You’re not alone, Rhea. I’m here. I’m always going to be here with you.”

More time passed, though neither of them could say how much. Eventually, Rhea shifted, her body trembling as she took in a shaky breath. The loss of their baby felt like a wound that would never heal, and yet, with Jey beside her, she knew she wasn’t facing it alone.

They would grieve together, and somehow, someday, they would find a way to move forward. But for now, they sat together in their shared sorrow, holding their baby for the first and last time.

“Mr. Fatu if you please follow me, we have an urgent matter to discuss.”

Jey gently adjusted Rhea, cradling her as she held their baby, and kissed her forehead before stepping out of the room. His heart felt heavy as he left her, but the nurse’s urgent request for a private conversation weighed on his mind. He followed her through the quiet halls of the hospital, the sterile scent filling his lungs as they made their way to another floor. The nurse led him to a small, dimly lit office where two people were waiting.

As he entered, a tall man in a sharp suit stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Fatu, I’m Julian Velasquez, with the law firm Brentley and Barnum. I’ve been hired by the WWE to represent you and Rhea during this difficult time.”

Jey shook his hand, his brow furrowed. “Represent us?”

“Yes,” Julian continued, his tone professional but kind. “Given your high-profile status in WWE, the company wants to ensure that you and Rhea are protected legally, especially with all that’s happened. We’re here to make sure that no one takes advantage of your situation, and to offer any legal support you may need.”

Jey nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information. His mind was still clouded with grief, but he appreciated the gesture. He glanced at the second person in the room, an older woman with kind, weathered eyes. She smiled gently and introduced herself.

“I’m Ms. Gurdie Crowley, the president of the Organization for Lost Littles. We specialize in providing support for families who have experienced miscarriage or infant loss, particularly in the Orlando area. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Jey’s throat tightened, but he managed a nod. “Thank you.”

Ms. Crowley’s eyes softened further. “I understand that discussing burial options is difficult, but I’m here to help in any way I can. Many families choose cremation in situations like this. Is that something you and Rhea have considered?”

Jey cleared his throat and spoke quietly, the weight of the conversation almost too much to bear. “We’ve decided on cremation. Rhea... she doesn’t want a funeral.”

Ms. Crowley gave a small, understanding nod. “I see. I’d like to offer you an option that some families find comforting. Given your baby’s size, it’s possible to create jewelry containing the remains—pieces that can be worn, keeping your child close to your heart.”

She handed Jey a brochure filled with photos of delicate rings, necklaces, and bracelets designed to hold ashes. Jey’s hands shook slightly as he took it, flipping through the pages. Each item seemed both beautiful and heartbreaking, a physical reminder of the loss they would carry with them forever.

Jey paused on a page featuring a matching set of rings and a necklace. He swallowed hard, looking back at Ms. Crowley. “Her ring size is a 7... mine is a 10. She likes an 18-inch necklace. Also, her ring… can you ship it to my father’s house? It’s going to be saved for a special occasion.”

Ms. Crowley nodded, quickly jotting down the details. “Thank you, Mr. Fatu. I’ll make the arrangements. These pieces will take some time, but I’ll ensure they’re handled with the utmost care.”

Jey’s heart felt heavy as he handed the brochure back. “I appreciate that.”

Ms. Crowley offered a soft smile. “We also offer counseling services for families. It can be a lot to process, and we want to make sure both of you have the support you need.”

Before Jey could respond, Julian chimed in. “The WWE has already arranged counseling services for Mrs. Adams and Mr. Fatu. We want to make sure they have everything they need, including mental health support.”

Jey looked between Julian and Ms. Crowley, grateful but emotionally drained. “Thank you... both of you.”

Ms. Crowley nodded kindly. “Of course. I’ll be in touch soon with the next steps, but please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all.”

Julian stood, signaling that the meeting was over. “If there’s anything you need, Mr. Fatu, I’ll be your point of contact. We’re here to help.”

Jey shook their hands, still feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. As he left the office and made his way back to Rhea, all he could think about was the painful reality of what they were facing. But he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t going to let her face any of it alone.

—

In the quiet sanctuary of Jonathan and Trinity’s home, the evening was filled with a soft, practical activity—preparing the guest room for Rhea and Jey. The room was being arranged to provide a sense of comfort and normalcy once Rhea was released from the hospital in the morning.

Trinity, arranging fresh linens on the bed, glanced over at Jonathan. “You know, despite everything that’s happened, I’m really glad Rhea is now part of the family. It’s been a tough road, but it’s good to see the family coming together.”

Jonathan, who was adjusting a set of pillows on the bed, looked up and said, “Even with all the chaos and pain, having Jey back in the family is what really matters. It’s been a long time coming.”

Trinity smiled, her eyes meeting Jonathan’s with a warmth that spoke of shared feelings and understanding. “It’s been rough, but seeing everyone come together, it feels like we’re starting to mend some of those broken pieces.”

Jonathan walked over to Trinity, pulling her into a gentle embrace. He leaned in and kissed her softly, the touch of his lips conveying the depth of his affection. Trinity responded with equal tenderness, her arms wrapping around him.

As they pulled away slightly, their faces still close, Jonathan’s voice was filled with sincerity. “Thank you for being so strong through all this, Trin’. It means more to me than you know.”

Trinity rested her forehead against his. “We’re in this together, Jon. And no matter what happens, we’ll face it as a family.”

They shared another quiet, intimate moment, their closeness a comforting reminder of their bond amidst the unfolding challenges. The preparation of the guest room, though a small task, symbolized their commitment to providing support and care for Rhea and Jey during a time of need.

Later that night, after finishing the preparations, Jonathan and Trinity settled into bed, the weight of the day still lingering but momentarily distant. The room was quiet, save for the soft glow from Trinity’s phone as she scrolled through her news app, trying to unwind.

Her thumb paused on a series of headlines, her eyes narrowing. One article after another popped up, all speculating about Rhea’s attack. Trinity sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, irritation creeping in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

Jonathan turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Trinity tilted her phone toward him, showing him the screen. “Look at this. Every one of these so-called ‘news’ sites is trying to spin what happened to Rhea as some kind of storyline. Like it’s just a part of wrestling.”

Jonathan scanned the headlines. Each article seemed more absurd than the last, questioning the authenticity of the situation, trying to claim that Rhea’s attack was part of an elaborate WWE plot.

“‘Rhea Ripley’s ‘attack’ just another storyline?’” Jonathan read aloud, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. These people seriously have nothing better to do.”

Trinity huffed in agreement, her frustration bubbling over. “I can’t believe they’re trying to turn something this serious into a storyline. Like Rhea didn’t just go through something traumatic. It’s so disrespectful.”

Jonathan leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem with being in this business sometimes. People don’t know how to separate reality from what they see on TV. They think everything’s just part of the show.”

Trinity shook her head, locking her phone and tossing it onto the nightstand. “It’s disgusting. She just lost her baby, and they’re out here writing this nonsense like it’s some scripted drama.”

Jonathan reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We know the truth, and so does Rhea. That’s what matters.”

Trinity sighed, leaning into Jonathan’s embrace. “I know. I just hate seeing her go through so much and having people question whether it’s real.”

Jonathan kissed her forehead softly. “We’ll get through this as a family, Trin’. Let them talk. We’ve got more important things to focus on.”

Trinity nodded, allowing herself to relax in his arms. Despite the noise of the outside world, what truly mattered was right there with her—a family bound by love, loyalty, and strength, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Due to Monday Night Raws Previous Episode I had these chapters already pre written. I had three different ways Chapter 12 would go and this chapter was apart of that.

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roadtogracelandx45 · 10 months ago

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Paradise Undone| 1| S. McGarrett

Summary: Gracie isn’t the only reason why Danny Williams relocated to Hawaii, his youngest sister Emily is a nurse in the navy and is stationed at Pearl Harbor and is in an on again off again fling with Steven McGarrett.

His new partner. And Danny is dead set on keeping them apart as much as he wanted his sister happy, the last person he wanted her to be with was Steve McGarrett

@prettyinpayne @marycorleone

This wasn’t the first time that Emily Williams had been asked to come see her brother Danny, a police detective first with the New York Police department and now with the Honolulu police department, to patch him up and it wouldn’t be the last but this was the first time that the man she had been sleeping with on and off with was sitting on the rolling chair next to the desk. “Shit.” She cursed herself before she stepped into the office, “Danno? What did you do now?” Danny, who had been lecturing Steve, paused and smiled seeing her. “It was all him Em.” Emily finally met Steve’s dark eyes and was glad to see the surprise in them. The last time they had seen each other, they had been in Japan and she was getting ready to ship back out to the states.

“And who is he?”

Danny was oblivious to the uneasy stare between the two, he was eager to start another long bitching session about his new partner and his sister usually listened. “Steve McGarrett.” Danny asked as she started looking at the wound on his shoulder.

“As in the McGarrett case?” She glanced over at Steve who was putting two and two together, Emily had told him stories about her siblings, especially her stuffy older brother.

“Yeah. He got me shot Em? Can you believe that?” The older Williams sibling questioned turning his head to watch his sister work.

“Not really, you got held hostage before, and had to have knee surgery after that case with Libby went wrong. So this doesn’t surprise me at all.” She answered, “didn’t you have the paramedics look at this?” “Why? When I have a nurse on speed dial?” Danny asked, “Em here is in the navy too but her contract is up soon.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, folding his arms, eyes never leaving the siblings, curious. Emily was the exact opposite of his new partner, she had always been quick to laugh and enjoy herself while Danny wasn't that.

“Supposedly she wants to stay. God knows why.”

“Three things Danno, beach, warm weather and you and Gracie.” Emily paused as she opened an alcohol wipe, “and there is no Clara,” Clara was their mother who along with their two sisters Bridgett and Stella were very interested in when Emily was going to settle down and have kids.

“That is our mother.” Danny started before wincing when she dug her gloved thumb into the wound in annoyance . “I know that Daniel but she doesn’t harp on you. “When are you going to have kids Emily? You are such a young and pretty girl.”

Unable to help himself Steve coughed out a laugh, he had heard that impression one too many times which caused Emily to laugh. “Do you two know each other?” Danny asked after a heartbeat, “you can’t know each other.”

“We know each other.” They both answered.

“No, no Emily! Wait, this isn’t the guy you shacked up with in Cuba is it?” Emily pressed her lips together in a tight line so she wouldn’t start laughing outright.

“Emily Anne! Tell me the truth.”

“No comment.” she risked a glance over to Steve who was studying her every movement. “Do you need me to pick up Gracie after school?” Being able to have a relationship with her niece was part of the reason why she jumped on being stationed at Pearl Harbor.

“Emily! Tell me the truth.” Danny had glossed over her question like she had expected him too and he was furious. Like Matthew, their brother, he was fiercely over protective of Emily and their other sisters.

“Yes, okay?” she snapped back as she started bandaging the wound. “But you have no room to talk, Daniel. You are the one who ended up marrying someone you pulled over.” Another quiet laugh escaped Steve, he had heard all about her brother’s ex-wife after she found out that she had filed for divorce causing a smile to twitch on the corner of her mouth. “You told a total stranger about my personal life?”

The younger Williams sibling smiled then, “Well yeah, he's a good listener and I had to have someone to talk to. And I was not going to use the satellite phone to call Clara.”

Groaning Danny dropped his chin to his chest, “You two are going to put me in an early grave.”

“Don't be so dramatic Danny.” Emily rolled her eyes, “We both know that it will be Rachel and step Stan.”

“Step Stan?” Steve stepped in, unable to help himself, now that he was putting faces with names, things started making sense and he wanted to try and diffuse the situation mostly for Emily’s sake.

“Rachel's new husband. He seems nice.” The younger sibling returned. “You only say that because he tried to buy your affection too.” Steve and Emily exchanged a look with furrowed brows. “Are you still bitter that I attended the wedding for Gracie’s sake?” Danny huffed as he stood up and went into one of the glass offices. “Grace begged and pleaded for me to go, I was on leave.” she informed as she started gathering up the used supplies to throw them away, “I tried to talk Rachel out of it, including offering to be her getaway driver.” “Does he know that?” Emily shook her head, “He wouldn't listen, probably never will.”

#ash writes #series: Paradise undone #oc: Emily Williams #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five o imagine #hawaii five o fan fiction #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett fan fiction #steve mcgarrett imagine

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everlastingdreams · 10 months ago

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The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 26

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Secrets Of The Heart

Notes: 👀

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter: 26/ It’s a secret.

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Once you were done washing, and dressed in clean clothes, you felt a little more human. That such a small thing could lift your spirits was surprising. You left your room to search for the little rascal you had been hoping to see. It took a while to find Squirrel, but you did find him, and your cousin as well, in the kitchens.

Ciro ran up to you at first sight and flung himself into your arms when you knelt down. “You’re really back!”

The joy of him filled your heart. “I am.” You leaned back to look at him “Phew, you’re getting stronger, aren’t you?”

Ciro gestured to Squirrel. “He’s teaching me how to use a bow, it’s making my muscles grow, look!”

He tensed the muscles of his upper arm, as if he was lifting something heavy. Even though you saw no change, you did not tell him this and were proud of him none the less. “Impressive.”

Squirrel stood a bit to the side, clearly waiting for you to call him over and for Ciro to step away a bit. Your cousin did so upon seeing the inquiring look of Squirrel. You opened your arms wide for Squirrel who took the invitation right away, they closed around around him lovingly.

“I have missed you.” You whispered against his hair.

Squirrel swallowed, a tear ran it’s path down his cheek. “I’ve missed you too…”

You could hear the crack in his voice and cradled the back of his head, “I am never leaving you again, do you hear me?” You leaned back to look him in the eyes. “Never.”

“Swear it.” Squirrel demanded.

The look in his eyes made it impossible to refuse. “I swear it.”

With another embrace, the promise was sealed.

Squirrel noticed the bruise to your temple. “Did the Brotherhood hurt you?”

Your mother would not have told him the details of it.

“Not much.” You lied to not alarm the already worried boy. “And in return we burned their fort to the ground.”

Squirrel and Ciro shared an excited look, and right there and then you knew that you wouldn’t be able to leave the kitchen without telling them the whole story. And you did. Ciro considered it one of the better tales he knew of know. Your storytelling came to an end when the children were offered a bowl of soup by the older ladies that were cooking there. You politely declined when they offered you a bowl as well, and left the kitchen.

On your way to find the Ash Man, you ran into Matthew.

“How are you?” He asked. “That can’t have been easy to face your father like that.”

You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “I’ll be better once things settle down after a while.”

“So, the Reaper, eh?” He let a silence fall in the hope that you would start talking about it yourself, but you did not. “That sick bastard. Who would have thought he’d have such plans in that twisted skull of his?”

Matthew was visibly repulsed by the thought.

Remembering it made you feel sick to the stomach as well. “I’d rather just forget everything about his plans.”

“Of course you do. Understandably so. " He put his hand on your shoulder. “Will you come to the celebration tonight? There will be ale and food brought to the courtyard for all. It will take your mind off what happened.”

You doubted ale and a meal would be of much help for that. “I’m not sure I wish to feast.”

He took a step closer, letting those amber eyes achieve what his pleas could not, “Please, y/n? It has been so long since we were able to spend some time together.”

You sighed defeated. “Alright. I’ll make an appearance.”

A broad smile spread on his lips. “Excellent.”

One of the Snake Folk clan entered the hallway you were in, her hurried steps made Matthew step away from you.

“Ser Matthew, may I speak to you for a moment?” She asked.

“Of course.” Matthew said, then turned to you. “I will see you tonight.”

“Good. Uhm, do you know where Lancelot is?” You asked before you’d have to search the whole castle ground.

Matthew’s smile faltered. “I believe he is at the stables.”

It was all he said before he walked towards the woman to hear what she had to say. He could not have made it more obvious that he did not like Lancelot, you hoped that it would change in time.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

It only took you a few minutes to walk to the stables, and you found Lancelot busy pampering Goliath by brushing his coat with some dry straw.

The slight tilt of his head to the side made it known to you that he had caught your scent before you’d even set foot in the door, he did not even need to turn around to know it was you.

“I apologize for earlier. I will knock from now on.” He said.

You weren’t even angry for it, it had not been on purpose. “I know you wouldn’t walk into a room I am changing in on purpose. We’re good, you are forgiven.”

As you came to stand beside him and greet Goliath, you noticed how he kept his attention on the horse and even took a small step away from you. It was so subtle that you could have missed it, but you hadn’t and it was clawing at you.

You wanted to start a conversation to distract yourself from that gnawing feeling, “How did you find my room?”

“By finding you.” He said.

It took you two counts to remember again that he was able to sniff his way around. “I see. Did anyone else see you walk in there?”

It had become so natural to just walk into any room the other was in, but this was different.

A frown creased his forehead, “I do not believe so. Why?”

It was quite winsome how innocent his mind could still be. “Because rumors have been born from less. You just waltzed into my bedchamber, Lancelot. My parents would lose their minds if they saw.”

He mumbled a bit, it was meant as a jest but the undertone betrayed some genuineness, “They can’t have their daughter be involved with the former Weeping Monk.”

You rolled your eyes a little. “It’s not about your past, Lancelot. Remember that I told you that my father kept me away from boys as much as he could? To them, I am still their ‘Little Moon’.”

“Little moon?” He found it a curious name.

“It comes from a secret we as Dawn Folk have.” You carefully said.

The attention left Goliath, the brushing of the horse’s coat continued absentmindedly, “Will you share this secret with me?”

You tsked him, “Don’t be nosy, Ash Man.”

He just kept looking at you, undoubtedly wishing he could read your mind.

At first you tried to ignore it, and when that didn’t work, you stared right back.

His curiosity was strong, “Please?”

It was rare for this secret to be shared to other Fey. “If I tell you, you can’t tell another soul.”

He thought you weren’t serious, but the look in your eyes made him understand that you were, “I swear it.”

The secret spilled from your lips, “Dawn Folk can only conceive on nights with a full moon.”

Little Moon… Because you were the result of an amorous encounter during a blue moon.

He blinked a few times. “Oh.”

“And the Reaper knew this secret. It was why he-” An involuntary shiver went through you. “Ugh.”

He saw you shiver at the memory. “He is nothing but ashes now, he is not on your skin and he will never be again. There is only you.”

Hearing it brought some comfort, every time you thought back to the horrible moment, you felt his hand linger on your skin. You could not let the Reaper hold this power over you, he was ashes and you were still burning with life.

With a deep breath, you took Lancelot’s advice to heart and felt your mouth curve into a soft smile just for him. “I’m glad I didn’t let you die.”

A chuckle passed his lips. “Likewise.”

You almost rolled your eyes again, but then you noticed the changes in his attire and the small one in his appearance. He must have been grooming his stubble meticulously again, it had grown a bit whilst you had been held captive, he had clearly reversed that change. The ruined clothes were gone as well, the aketon was traded for a dark brown leather jerkin and he wore a pale grey shirt under it. All that had not changed was the weapons he had on him.

This was good, he deserved to be treated well.

You reached to touch the new sleeve of his shirt and saw him lean back. That small response gave you great worry, had you done something that made him uncomfortable? You decided to just ask and kept your tone light, “Have I done something wrong?”

It greatly confused him,“No. Why do you ask?”

No?

Then why did he seem afraid of you touching him all of a sudden?

You chased the truth out of him. “I just feel like you seem a bit uncomfortable. And you did rush out of my room so quickly earlier.”

His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, then lifted to your face. “I am not uncomfortable.”

You could tell that there was something being left unsaid. Slowly, you reached for him again and chose to touch nothing else but his cloak. He did not move away when you gingerly waved your fingers in the fabric. With a look shared, you wanted to let him know that you meant no harm. The opposite happened this time, he turned his body in such a way that it closed some distance between you.

“The cloak is new, isn’t it?” You failed to fight away the intrusive thought entering your mind and stunned him when you leaned in to smell the cloak.

He was surprised by the action, but not alarmed.

Your mind caught up with you and the sudden embarrassment hit. “Uhm… gods…sorry…”

His surprise turned into a smile so charming that it got you flustered at the sight of it, “Are you sure you are Dawn Folk, and not Ash Folk?”

The response he had to your strange action was so positive that it made you think that the Ash Folk must have once seen this as a common occurrence.

You wanted to take a step away, before he’d grow uncomfortable after all.

He was the one that prevented it by putting his hand on the back of your arm, “What do I smell like to you?”

The genuine curiosity coming from him was what saved you from feeling awkward.

“I don’t know.” You blurted out.

His head tilted to the side a bit, he did not believe you, “Tell me?”

You were fidgeting. “You smell like the forest. Like the warmth of a bonfire, if that makes sense.”

The answer seemed to please him, as if he didn’t expect you to actually tell him.

It made you recall when you had asked him the same question and got a rude answer in return. “The last time I asked you what I smelled like, you said I smelled strange.”

He had not forgotten the ill response. “You did, because I had never smelled one of the Dawn Folk before.”

Alright, that sounded like a plausible reason.

You dared to ask him again and hoped for an honest answer, “What do I smell like to you?”

The boldness he displayed, when closing the small space between you and dipping his head down to your neck, had you lost for words. His nose never touched your skin as it followed the curve of your neck up to your jaw, the only thing that did was his breath. A tremble in your legs began and spread to the rest of your body, you tried to hide it.

He was able to answer your question now, “The night’s air after rain.”

The scent was how he imagined freedom would smell like.

The hot flush you felt crawling up your cheeks made you tilt your head down. Was this the Hidden’s doing? Or was this… him?

A small touch to your arm was his way of pulling your attention to him again. He was watching you curiously, every small detail of your expression was caught by his gaze, like he was reading a book.

“So, not ‘strange’ then?” You managed to form a sentence.

“No.” His voice had lowered.

Taking a step back would have freed you from the influence his presence had on you now, if only your mind was convincing enough to make your feet move. “The celebration tonight, uhm… will you make an appearance? After all, you did kill the Reaper and gave the reason for this feast.”

Was that an invite to accompany you?

He thought it better to keep his presence discreet. “I think it is best If I stay in the room I was given tonight.”

You wanted to change his mind. “But-”

He explained his reasoning, “I will not jeopardize the chance I was given here. There will be other days in the future where I can be part of a feast. For now, I am content to be where you and the boy are.”

Maybe the people weren’t ready for him yet, or perhaps he was not ready for the people…

You would not push him further. “I will put one of my books in your room, you’ll have something to read at least.”

He hummed approvingly. “That would be kind.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat was what finally made your feet decide to step away from him.

Mirena was standing by the doors and looking between you and the Ash Man for a moment, then spoke to you, “There you are. I was wondering if you wanted to prepare for the feast with me? Like we used to.”

She was speaking of the days when you were younger and smaller, and stealing her gowns that never suited you whenever there was as much as a rumor of a celebration or joining. Of course she did not mind and let you play freely, and when you got older the dresses made for adults finally began to fit. There were many times where you would spend time helping each other look immaculate for special occasions. But it had been so long ago, and trousers offered an advantage in many situations.

“Mother, I’ve not worn a dress in years.” You chuckled nervously.

And you had just put on fresh clean clothes…

Her smile faltered a little. “Of course, I understand.”

Seeing her response made you realize that maybe she just wanted to relive a memory with her ‘Little Moon’.

Even Lancelot was looking at you to see if you had seen your mother’s heart crack a little.

Before she could walk away, you hurried after her. “Wait! I- uhm… I don’t know if my old dresses still fit me. It’s been so long.”

Mirena had taken that into account, “Oh! Worry not, Sweetling. I have something for you.”

Ah, of course she would have something up her sleeve for you to wear.

The enthusiasm was dripping from her face as she took you by the arm and walked away with you.

When you looked over your shoulder, you saw Lancelot send you a sympathetic look.

Like you didn’t know he would laugh later if he saw you in a dress…

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

What began as something to please your mother, ended up being a memory to cherish. After Mirena insisted on using her magic to heal you, the bruises had vanished from your skin. She was pleased with the result until she noticed the scars on your back while you were changing into the dress.

Even though the Dawn Folk could not heal scars, she still wanted to try but you refused to let her use any more of her energy. While she helped you put the dress on correctly, considering you had began with putting it on backwards, you told her where the scars came from.

Unlike your father, she always patiently let you tell your story, even when tears were in her eyes. When you saw them, you had wrapped your arms around her. You were her Little Moon, but she was the world to you.

And she was the only person in the world who could make you want to wear a dress.

She had given you a new one, the linen had your favorite color and the neckline was more revealing than what you were used to.

One look in the mirror of your room and you had to admit that perhaps gowns did suit you after all. The dress was simple, but it fitted your form and flattered your curves.

You would never forget the look your mother gave you when you decided to just wear your belt and sword with it. She got you in the dress, she had won her battle and chose not to fight that one. After all, her daughter was a fighter at heart.

Whilst you were viewing yourself in the mirror, a knock sounded at the door.

Mirena called out and young Squirrel waltzed into the room, she must have taught him to knock…

He was stunned to see you now, “I thought you never wore dresses?”

It made you self-conscious about the dress. “I haven’t worn one in a long time.” You made a small slow turn while asking, “What do you think? Should I wear it for tonight?”

Squirrel pursed his lips for a beat, then nodded with approval. “It’s nice.”

Nice? It was as close to a compliment this cheeky child would probably get.

Your confidence returned. “Good. Good…”

He came closer. “I saw there is ale being given out in the courtyard. Can I have some? I tried asking but the other knights won’t let me.”

Mirena looked at him incredulous. “Young man, you are too young to be drinking ale.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from letting out a chuckle.

“Y/n?” Squirrel whined.

Oh, you hated to disappoint him. “I’m sorry, Squirrel. Mother is right. But I’ll tell you what, I won’t drink ale either.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised and doubtful.

“I swear it.” You said.

Squirrel felt less excluded now.

Mirena walked over to the boy. “Come, there must be something else you would love to eat and drink.”

Squirrel followed her as she walked out of your room. You took one last look in the mirror, then plucked the book you had set aside for Lancelot from your bed. It was a small walk to the room he had been given, you placed the book against the closed door knowing he would find it there.

Your walk continued for a while, the doors of the fort were open and the sound of a violin welcomed you into the courtyard. From what you could see, a lot of people were present and even the gate was open to welcome those of the village.

A warm large bonfire gave the courtyard a mystical appearance now that the sun left the land in the hands of the moon.

You spotted Squirrel and your mother while she was helping him and Ciro acquire the food they desired.

No ale is what you had promised, and after some searching you found one of the village offering warm sweet tea to those who sought something to drink.

Some villagers had not come empty handed, it made the night even more meaningful to see that even in these hard times the Fey were not afraid to share.

It gave you hope to see it.

You stayed away from the dense crowd and kept to the walls, just enjoying the atmosphere. The news of the Reaper’s death, and the one who caused it, traveled through the castle.

Matthew found you close to the gatehouse and came to stand beside you. “You came.”

“I knew it would make my mother happy.” You informed him.

He was as charming as could be. “Not just your mother, I’m happy to see you here too. And by the gods, you look beautiful tonight.”

Had you heard him right?

“What?” You blurted out shyly.

Matthew had no problem repeating it a little slower, “You look beautiful tonight.”

You blinked a couple of times and took a sip of your tea to wash the nerves down. “Thank you.”

He looked around himself, “Your shadow isn’t with you tonight?”

You looked at the ground and found your shadow, “My shadow?”

“The Ash Man.” He clarified. “I have not seen him tonight yet.”

The knowledge that Lancelot had decided to remain in his room tonight did sadden you, even if you understood why. You couldn’t help but pout a bit. “He thought it was better to stay in the castle.”

He sounded almost happy about it, “A wise choice, considering his past.”

It bothered you to hear that he was glad Lancelot wasn’t here to celebrate, but you couldn’t truly blame Matthew for not trusting him yet.

Matthew voiced his opinion, “I had my suspicion that he was off the Church, but I can’t believe you brought the Weeping Monk himself here. Why didn’t you tell me when I met him?”

To you it had been the right choice. “I didn’t know if I could trust you to keep it a secret, it’s not a small one to keep.”

He took it personal. “You trust the Weeping Monk, but you don’t trust me to keep a secret?”

It was hard not to get a little defensive. “He’s not the Weeping Monk anymore. His name is Lancelot.”

“Fine…” Matthew yielded. “Helio nearly lost his mind when he learned that the Monk had fled and taken his daughter with him.”

After all these years, you never thought that he could get on your nerves but you remained patient. “He didn’t take me with him. I only helped him escape, we didn’t expect to be captured by the Brotherhood.”

“You helped him escape.” He chuckled. “I am impressed with how much you have changed. You used to be quite shy, you know? And now your freeing prisoners.”

It was nice to hear he liked the change in you. “I guess I just stopped hiding who I really am.”

Because the people who mattered most had accepted you just as you were.

“That you did.” He turned to you, bringing his hand up to your shoulder where it grew brave enough to take place on the bare skin. “I hope to see more of this other side to you.”

You turned your head to look at his hand, he seized the moment to kiss your cheek and linger. It was so unexpected that you could barely believe it was happening.

Matthew heard his name be called from the crowd and politely excused himself before he headed to the man who had called for him.

You watched him walk away in bewilderment, the melancholic whispers of the Hidden sounded like they came from behind you and you turned to look.

It was just a group of Feys walking through the open gate into the courtyard, nothing odd to see. And still… the Hidden had lured your eyes to look. You kept looking at the gate for a moment and drank your tea at a snail’s pace while your thoughts were elsewhere.

Never before had Matthew acted flirtatious to you, not like this, he meant it now.

But deep down it bothered you that he had never done so in the past, while you had been so obviously infatuated with him that you almost felt embarrassed to think back to it. He had broken your heart when he had carefully rejected you.

And now he had complimented you and kissed your cheek, but… it had not been like you had thought it would be.

Were those books, who spoke of romance, wrong? Was a kiss by the one you loved not meant to fill your heart with joy? To make you forget how to breathe properly?

You walked away from the gatehouse and watched those around you enjoy the feast. A woman, who played the flute, had joined the violist. The Fey welcomed this evening with open arms, some music and relaxation would surely lift their spirits. Your cousin and Squirrel were munching on some pastries when you came to stand by your mother’s side. Right away she fumbled with a side of your dress that must have looked imperfect to her. You resisted the urge to swat her hand away when you saw others stare at the display curiously. Of course Squirrel and Ciro found it hilarious to see.

“Mother, please.” You tried.

She didn’t listen and only stopped when the dress fell over your form perfectly. As you looked around yourself, you saw your father speak to Matthew, and they were looking at you.

“Are they talking about me?” You couldn’t resisted asking your mother.

Mirena had already noticed the conversation her husband was having with the newest knight. “I do not know. Do not worry, Little Moon, ignore your father.”

You heard her mumble ‘like you always do’ between her teeth.

She was right, you didn’t want to ruin your good mood by worrying. Instead you stayed with her to help keep the children entertained.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

It was past midnight when the feast came to an end. The tired villagers returned home and most of those living in the castle had gone inside. You stayed out a bit longer, cleaning up the courtyard a little. With a basket carried at your hip, you tossed the rubbish into it. After that was done, a woman still present took over and shoo-ed you away. You thanked her and and decided to stay out in the open air a bit longer.

You walked away from the fort and passed under the gate, the view of the coast and sea in the distance was spectacular from the hilltop.

The trunk of a fallen tree on the grass offered a nice place to sit. The nice cool breeze of wind passed through your dress easily, it wasn’t too cold yet for fall. Because of the leaves rustling over the grass in the wind, you had not heard the footsteps approach. It was the sudden touch to you left shoulder that alerted you, you jolted a little and quickly looked behind you. A glimpse of his cloak was the first thing you saw, next you felt the touch against your back as it glided to your right arm.

“Lancelot?” You were glad to see him, he must have waited until the feast was over to set foot outside tonight.

He put his hand on your right shoulder and left it there until he sat down beside you, when it moved away it did so by gliding down the back of your arm.

Curiously you watched him, the hood of his cloak sat crooked over his head and you couldn’t resist readjusting it for him. “I’m afraid you missed the feast.”

Finally, he looked at you, hearing your teasing tone.

There was a faint scent of ale coming off of him. Was he drunk? You could not really tell, you’d never seen him so. And he did not seem like the kind of person to drink much or at all, perhaps little was needed to cause the same effect on a person who lived a sober life.

You fidgeted with your hands at his silence, they had touched so many over these past few months, too many. Lancelot placed a hand over them, then chose one and let his fingers glide against your palm to hold it. Your hand was still as a rock, feeling the pads of his fingers lightly push into it.

This felt so foreign, the way he just gently held your hand. Such a small gesture and it made you unable to look at him. It took you near a minute to decide to close your hand around his fingers a bit, a signal that you were not against this.

His knee touched yours, he moved to sit a little closer. Step by step, he bend the line that had always been there between you. It wasn’t until he quietly spoke your name that you looked at him again.

The hold on your hand got firmer but never painful. Those blue eyes stayed on yours for only a blink, their attention fell lower. It almost caught you off-guard when he leaned in, quickly you turned your head away to avoid what was about to happen. His stubble had skimmed over your cheek, and he remained so near.

“Don’t.” You couldn’t believe the situation you found yourself in. “You are drunk, you’re not yourself.”

He cupped the right side of your neck slowly, as if he was handling a frightened bird, his nose buried into your hair. Even now, when he was not himself, you still trusted that he would not hurt you.

“I cannot lose you.” He sounded distressed, the ale did not help it make sense. “Not you…”

You plucked his hand from your neck and leaned back, getting worried by his words, “You won’t. Why would you think that?”

The hand you had used to pluck his away, was held by him again, he was desperate to keep the physical connection. His other hand came up to your chin, and you froze when his thumb touched your bottom lip. You caught yourself wishing there was no ale in his body, but there was and it was overriding the inhibitions he had always had.

The intoxicated Ash Man gave you another surprise when he decided to lean in and put his lips to your temple. The whispers of the old gods were calm, and assured you that there was nothing to fear. He lingered, and you could not pretend that you did not feel your heart increase it’s rhythm.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw caused a tremble. “Lancelot…”

His voice was unlike you had ever heard before, deep and filled with conviction, “Cor meum jungatur vobis. Inquietum est donec perveniat ad te. Est tuum.”

You did not understand what he was saying, Latin was not a language the Fey chose to learn, it was considered the language of the Church. It had sounded quite like a prayer he whispered in your ear.

“I do not understand.” You gently told him.

His nose touched your temple. “One day, you will.”

The sound of a ceramic jug breaking sounded from the courtyard and you were on your feet instantly, it betrayed how the nerves were flying through your body. You could faintly make out the voices of Squirrel and Ciro and didn’t have to guess what they were up to. Lancelot dropped his eyes to the grass when you looked down at them. You tried not to think too much of what had almost happened between you and him just now, he was drunk and not making much sense, especially when he started to talk in the odd language.

“I think Squirrel and my cousin are trying to carry off some ale that was still in the courtyard.” You told him, seeing how he looked pretty distracted. “I can help you to your room?”

He shook his head and rose to his feet.

You were a bit worried by the way he swayed on his feet a bit, “Are you sure?”

With a gesture of his hand, he let you know that he’d be alright and walked back towards the fort. You followed a few steps behind the stubborn oaf, spotting the children in the courtyard while he managed to find his way to the door of the entrance.

Just then, your mother opened it, undoubtedly to see where the little rascals had vanished off to. She almost bumped into the Ash Man and stepped aside to let him pass, he acknowledged it with a bow of his head. Mirena made eye-contact with you, having seen the state he was in. One look from you and she knew it was best to see to it that he found his room safely while you handled the situation with the children.

You would need to have a word with him about what happened tomorrow.

Had it just been the ale? Would it truly cause a former monk to try and kiss a woman?

It had to be. Still, it was no proper excuse for it.

You looked around the courtyard for Squirrel and Ciro, finally finding them hiding behind a stack of barrels.

A broken jug of ale laid shattered on the ground not far from them.

“Well then. Must I ask?” You tapped your fingers on one of the barrels.

They looked up at you like they had seen a ghost.

“We… found the jug and wanted to bring it back to the kitchen.” Ciro tried.

Impressive, he almost sounded honest, Squirrel’s talent for deceiving must have been rubbing off on him.

“You wanted to bring it back. Full or empty?” You shot the question at them.

Ciro looked a lot less confident now, but Squirrel was thinking fast.

“Full, of course. We wouldn’t drink ale, we’re too young.” Squirrel sounded like he was explaining it to an infant.

“Uhuh.” You bit your tongue, choosing not to battle on this because you knew you might not even win against the witty child. “Good. I am glad we understand each other. Come, let us head inside. You should have been in bed by now, you won’t be well-rested tomorrow.”

They were already relieved that you ‘believed’ the lie, and did not put up a fight when you walked them to the room they shared.

From the looks of it, your mother had made sure Squirrel had a proper bed too. She always went the extra mile for the little ones. Fatigue gripped hold on them at the sight of their beds, and they slumped towards them. Ciro sat down and crawled into his bed, tucking himself in with the sheet properly. Squirrel on the other hand impressed you by letting himself fall flat down on the bed and managing to be comfortable that way. After bidding them goodnight, you left their room and headed to yours.

On your way, you passed by Lancelot’s door and saw that the book you had placed against his door was gone, he must have found it quite quickly considering your scent must have been on it. There was a brief second were you wanted to knock, to get the reason behind him trying to kiss you. But tonight you would not get the truth, not when he was like this.

No, you would have to let this haunt you until tomorrow when you could get a coherent sentence out of him. You walked away from his door and headed to your own room. On your way there, you couldn’t help but overthink the situation. It was upsetting, especially because you hadn’t seen it coming, not from him.

No warning, no explanation.

And he had even tried to speak to you in the language the Fey frowned upon, which made even less sense. What was so hard to just tell you that he had to resort to it?

Now you would have to try to sleep with all these questions bothering you, while the ale in his system would surely get him to sleep. By the time you were in your room, it bothered you so much that you slammed the door shut behind you a little, not caring who it woke in your hallway.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

As every soul on the castle was presumed to be asleep, in the shadow cloaked hallways the Ash Man found his way to your chambers.

No amount of ale could stop the scent of you from being found by him, even the old gods offered him their aid for it. Bound together, by destiny and soul. Upon arriving at your door, the spark of courage left him.

A drunken apology could make matters worse…

He turned upon catching the Fey scent coming from behind him. A man that he could identify as one of the knights stood at a distance, watching him, waiting to see if he would cross a line. Your father had commanded them to keep an eye on him, and they were only following that order.

After being so graciously offered sanctuary, he had done this…

Shame and guilt settled inside of him. He thought back to the moment Mirena had struck him, and why. After everything, even when he thought he was becoming a better man, he had behaved selfishly.

He stepped away from the door, leaving the watchful knight without a reason to believe that you would be disturbed at night by him. He would not taint your reputation, not after risking it for his sake before.

The Ash Man returned to his own sleeping quarters quietly, which proved a challenge as the ale was starting to get the upper hand on his legs again.

But he made it.

A night’s rest would bring him no solace after today. He had seen the interaction between you and Matthew as he was walking near the gatehouse to come and join you at the feast for a while. Patiently he had waited in the discretion of his cloak and the shadows, refusing to be rude and interrupt the conversation you had with the knight.

Now he wished that he had, so he would not have had to see you be courted by the man.

To see it, hurt more than all the prayers left unanswered in his life. The sight of it, worse than the dagger he had taken to the heart. He had tasted the ale at the feast to wash down the bitter taste of the memory. How had he not seen this earlier? That the one he trusted most, was the one who could hurt him so?

It was not your fault, he knew this. He was the fool who had placed his heart into hands that did not even knew they were holding it. And until tonight, he had not known it either until it was shattered.

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#the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed netflix #cursed #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman

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murdockparker · 1 year ago

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Flaking Fancy - Part 1

Matthew Murdock x Reader

Summary: Reader invites Foggy and Matt to her family’s holiday party. It’s a fancy affair, one that she’ll need all the help she can to get through.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (nothing happens)

A/N: Matt is back, bitches. You thought I forgot about him? Hell no. Could never forget about him, no matter how hard I tried. (This is part one of two, but can be read alone!)

“Tell me again why Foggy decided to flake tonight?”

She had been fiddling with the clasp on her bracelet—it wouldn’t close no matter how much she tried—without even looking up at the man across the room from her. If only she had a second pair of hands, or one of those nifty bracelet gadgets she’s been meaning to buy anyway.

“Flake?” Matt barked a laugh. “You know Foggy would want nothing more than to go to a fancy party with free booze and food.”

“Right,” she looked up, “which is weird that he flaked.”

“He said he was sick,” Matt shrugged helplessly. Truth be told, Matthew Murdock could see right through his roommate’s white lie—but he didn’t have the energy to fight him on it, not when he was already late to meeting up with (Y/N), anyway. “Stomach bug or something.”

“He seemed fine this morning during Professor Knight’s lecture,” (Y/N) sighed, placing a hand on her hip. She’d all but given up on the bracelet, throwing the damned jewelry onto her disheveled bed. Her dorm was in a state of disarray—she had gone through nearly her entire closet to choose what dress she would wear tonight. “And I know for a fact he couldn’t have gotten food poisoning—we both ate that shitty Chinese food for lunch, so I would be hugging the toilet too if that was the case.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Matt held his hands up, holding back another laugh. “Believe me, I tried to get him to come with us—”

“I never invite y’all to something this nice,” (Y/N) bent down to grab her heels, “the one time I can get us into a fancy party with fancy food and fancy drinks and fancy people? He just… flakes?”

“You never said this party was fancy.”

She turned her attention from her shoes back up to Matt—his face already plastered with a shit-eating grin that was so uniquely… Matt. “Har har.”

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s fine,” Matt reassured her, “we can still go to your fancy party and have a fancy time with your fancy family. You won’t even notice he’s gone.”

“It’s just…” (Y/N) wrung her wrist, trying to find the words she was looking for. Matt just stood there, waiting patiently for her to continue. “You two are my best friends here at school and this is my family’s holiday party—I just… dunno…”

He could practically hear her heart drop. This party meant a lot to her—this much Matt already knew—but to hear her admit it? “You want to prove to your parents that you’re not totally floundering away at school,” he stated.

“My dad always said law school was a bad idea,” she stood up from her bed, both heels now firmly on her feet, “said I was wasting my time on my ‘passion project’. Mom never really understood my convictions about it either, but she never outright said anything nasty about it.”

“So if you had friends in your corner to back you up—”

“Maybe they’d be more okay with the idea of their daughter straying off their ideal path,” she nodded softly. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t invite the two of you to this party just for that. I also really enjoy your company—something tells me I’m gonna need some of that Murdock sass to make it through the night.”

“‘Murdock sass?’”

“I would’ve also appreciated Nelson’s one-liners, specifically about my aunt’s terrible taste in fashion, but I guess,” she drawled the last word out, “I could settle for just you. Maybe a whole bottle of champagne too, but we’ll see where the night leads us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment on your aunt’s state of dress,” Matt joked, “but I promise I’ll be by your side all night, ready to entertain.”

“Oh, right, you’ll need me to guide you around the house,” she nearly slapped her forehead. “I totally forgot—”

“I’m sure I could manage my way around a townhouse, sweetheart,” he said cautiously, hoping she wouldn’t shy away from the term of endearment. With the way her heart skipped a beat, he safely assumed it was an alright move. “But if you feel the need to show me around…”

“You’ll need the help,” she assured him, smoothing the lines in her satin dress. “Trust me. My parents own the wildest home decor—last time I was over I nearly tripped over an elephant statue by the front door.”

“An elephant?”

“My mom is convinced it’s her ‘spirit animal’ or ‘inner beast’, I guess,” she shrugged. “Always remembering things, holding it over my dad’s head and whatnot.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Matt hummed.

“Shut up,” she slapped his arm playfully. “Come on, we’re gonna be late—”

“Aren’t you going to put on your bracelet?”

“My…” her eyes grew as wide as saucers. “How did you know I didn’t get my bracelet on?”

Matt wanted to tell her the truth—badly did he want to be honest and explain that he was diligently listening to how many times she fumbled with the clasp, the metal clinking ringing through his ears. But, he couldn’t do that, not tonight. “You mumbled something under your breath earlier,” he held out his hand, “come on, let me help.”

“Did I?” (Y/N) shook her head in disbelief. It was likely that she did, it was a bad habit of hers—and seemingly she did it without even realizing it. “Are you sure you can get the clasp?”

“No,” he smiled lightly, grabbing the dangling chain from her hand. “But I can hold it in place while you get it.”

“That… could work,” she breathed, “yeah.”

Carefully, Matt held the chain of small diamonds taught in the air, hoping her wrist would find its place without any guidance. She pressed against it gently and circled the chain around her wrist—ignoring completely how electric it was to feel Matt’s fingertips graze the sensitive skin there. She all but stuck her tongue out in concentration to finish the task quickly, to get them out the door faster, but with the way he was standing so close to her? The way his breath hitched when her fingers brushed his? The task seemed almost impossible.

“T-there,” she mumbled, removing her hand from the clasp. It had taken only two tries this time to get it attached, the help from Matt surely aiding greatly. “All done.”

“Great,” Matt breathed, finally allowing air to fill his lungs again. “Glad to be of help.”

She smiled sweetly, patting his chest. “Come on Murdock, we’ve got a fancy party to attend.”

—

When she had told Matt about her parent’s holiday party, he was expecting the usual. Christmas cookies, carolers, drunk uncles and ugly sweaters. What he hadn’t realized, is that (Y/N) came from a rather well off family, so their version of the holidays was much different than what he was used to. Hell, he’d grown so accustomed to a T.V dinner on Christmas Eve it had almost become the norm, so when a server—a server—asked if he wanted a tourtière? He felt completely out of his realm. To his relief, it seemed (Y/N) felt the same way. He could tell that her heart was beating faster, her breathing was uneven—she was nervous.

“What exactly is a tourtière, anyway?” Matt mumbled into her ear, careful to not bump into her. The scent of her hair nearly sent him into a spiral, her shampoo was intoxicating.

“Some sort of meat pie,” she uttered back, “I think it’s Canadian.”

“What ever happened to pigs in a blanket? That still a thing?”

“I think it was a pork tourtière,” she giggled, “so, technically a pig in an unconventional blanket?”

Matt giggled—God, he giggled. “I guess you’re right, on a technicality.”

“Technicalities are my specialty,” she poked his chest. “You should know that.”

“The specialty of any law student,” Matt rocked on his heels, taking a sip of the bubbling champagne he had been given not too long ago. (Y/N) downed her third glass of the night along with his timid sips. “You should probably slow down,” he said, hearing the soft clink of the glass against the metal plate of the passing server.

“If I’m gonna talk to my parents tonight, I’m going to need at least three more of these things,” she murmured into a fresh glass. He couldn’t argue with her logic, so he merely continued to nurse his bubbling glass.

“What was it like?” He asked, trying to change the subject as best he could. “Growing up here, I mean. I can’t speak for how nice your home is or looks—but by the way it smells, I’m sure it’s very elegant.”

“Cold,” she replied honestly. “Lonely most of the time—I didn’t have any siblings to entertain me. I usually was stuck watching movies with the nanny while my parents decided to spend their evenings at galas and parties.”

“You had a nanny?”

“Oh yeah,” she gulped. “Lucy was my nanny up until I was in middle school, then her daughter Rose took over until I made it to college.” (Y/N) laughed lightly to herself. “It’s funny, if it wasn’t for Lucy bringing new movies over every week, I don’t think we’d be here right now.”

“And why is that?”

“One of the movies she brought over was Legally Blonde,” she snorted into her glass, “I wanted to be Elle Woods so bad—don’t get me wrong, I have many other reasons why I want to be a lawyer, but I can’t discredit how Reese Witherspoon had a helping hand in my future career.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Legally Blonde,” Matt hummed. “It never really appealed to me—to be fair, most movies don’t.”

“Well, it’s a fucking fantastic film,” she tilted her head, smirking. “Though, I think the only reason Lucy brought it over so much was because I would actually leave her alone to do the housework.”

“That seems totally unlike you,” Matt deadpanned.

“I was a master at mopping the floors,” she snorted, “Lucy just preferred that I… didn’t.”

“Something tells me you kept getting in the way?”

“There may have been an incident with a jar of pasta sauce and a rogue mop handle—but the stain mostly came out of the floor. I think mom bought a rug to cover it up, though.”

She did. Matt had noticed the slight change in the flooring when they had paraded through the kitchen earlier, avoiding any collisions with stray family members and business partners. It was an odd place for a rug, he had thought, but the little bit of backstory on the matter pulled his lips up in a small smile. “A rug for the kitchen? Seems outside of your mother’s taste.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) barked a laugh, sipping more champagne, “trust that the rug probably costs more than our tuition—so not too far out of the realm of possibility, I’m afraid.”

Matt’s smile faded, just a bit. “What did you say your parents did for work again?”

“Beats the fuck out of me,” she shrugged helplessly, downing the glass in her hand. “The more I try to pry, the more I get shunned away with expensive gifts and trips.”

“So you… don’t know?” His brows were furrowed, laced together with slight confusion.

“Last time I asked they swore me to secrecy,” she leaned in closer, her breath practically dancing across his cheek, “knife to my throat and all. Y’know, mobster style.”

“Mobster? (Y/N), are you saying that your parents—”

Before he could finish his thought, she erupted in a fit of giggles, clutching her stomach nearly in pain.

“Oh my God,” she held onto his shoulder for stability—surely about to fall over otherwise. “You thought I was serious!”

He swallowed thickly, trying to force a laugh. “I mean, most people don’t joke that their parents are in some sort of organized crime syndicate?”

“You should’ve seen the look on your face! You looked as white as a ghost,” more laughter escaped her lips. “Nah, my parents are both Wall Street assholes—most of the people around us are also Wall Street assholes. Some normal assholes too, like my Uncle Tom. Everyone here’s an asshole, except for us”

“Alright sweetheart, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Matt carefully pried the empty glass from her hand. “No need to be ranting about assholes at the holiday party.”

“Speaking of assholes!” (Y/N) nearly shouted, a few business-looking individuals turned their attention to the couple across the room. The lingering stares didn’t last long, nearly every one of them continued their seemingly boring conversations and decided to move on. “We should find my parents! I think I can talk to them now!”

“That seems like a poor decision,” Matt smirked, snaking his arm casually around her waist, leading her away from the room. “Especially in your current state.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “My parents have seen me tipsy before.”

“I think we’re well past tipsy,” he laughed airily, pulling her to a quieter corner of the townhouse. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll agree with your choices tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh,” she groaned into his shoulder, head bashing against him in defeat. “You’re probably right.”

“Usually am.”

“I’m starting to get a headache.”

“I can imagine.”

“I should probably lay down.”

“That seems wise.”

“D’you think my parents would mind if I took a power nap in my room?” Her question was serious, eyes only slightly glazed over from the alcohol. “I mean… it’s my room, y’know?”

“Why don’t you lead the way? I’m sure you can sneak away for thirty minutes,” Matt rubbed his hand gently against her side, urging her to move forward. She nodded slightly before pulling away from him and wandered down the long hallway, familiarity lacing her every step. “Here’s hoping they didn’t turn it into an exercise room or something.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t,” she said seriously, “they already have a home gym on the second floor.”

Matt blinked.

“Right. Of course they do.”

She turned towards a large white door, embellished with an antique looking bronze knob. After a quick knock—something she immediately regretted doing—she opened the door to a nearly unchanged room. The decor was completely different than the rest of the home, save for the furniture, as that matched everything else. Her walls were plastered with movie and band posters, a cork board filled with all of her accomplishments hung beside her bed along with the various stuffed animals that adorned it.

“Welcome to mi casa,” she said unceremoniously, flopping face first down into the mattress. A stray teddy bear fell to the floor as she mumbled something into her pillow—he tried to make it out, but it was no use.

“What was that?” He toed into the room further and shut the door, feet hitting a fuzzy rug quickly.

“I said,” she mumbled, pulling her face up from her pillow, “this isn’t how I was expecting to pull you into my room tonight.”

He could’ve sworn his heart stopped. Had it not been for the rushing blood in his ears, he’d have no way of knowing.

“Yeah?” He nervously chuckled.

“Yeah,” she agreed, rolling onto her back, “was planning on seducing the absolute shit out of you. Figured you’d be amazing tonight at the party, probably say the sweetest crap about me to my parents and I’d want to finally make a move. Even went out of my way and wore my sexy underwear set which… you couldn’t have seen anyway…”

“The thought counts,” he smiled gently, floating his way over to her bed. Cautiously, he sat down beside her, silently hoping she wouldn’t move.

“I mean, it has a bit of lace on it,” she hummed thoughtfully, “you probably could’ve enjoyed that?”

“Probably,” he agreed. She hummed again, putting her head against her pillow. “How much have you had to drink tonight, sweetheart?”

“Not sure, the servers just kept… putting another glass in my hand whenever it was empty.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll go get you some water, maybe some proper hydration will get your head back on straight, stop talking nonsense.”

“Nonsense?”

“Nonsense,” he parroted begrudgingly, patting her leg gently. “All that bubbly’s gotten to your pretty little head, making you say things you don’t really mean.”

“Nah,” she scoffed back, “s’not nonsense, I think it’s the most level-headed thought I’ve had. Probably ever.”

“Sure it is, sweetheart,” he replied sarcastically, tenderly removing the black heels off of her feet—they were practically falling off anyway.

“You’ve gotta stop calling me that,” she lifted her head up from the pillow, desperate to try and look him in the eyes, “or else I’m gonna try to jump your bones, Murdock.”

Matt listened carefully to her heartbeat—it was steady and strong—she was telling the truth. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re hot.”

“You’re not in the right mind and I’m not going to take advantage of you,” he sighed, rubbing her leg tenderly, “it wouldn’t be right.”

“Ugh,” she pushed her face into the pillow again, “why do you have to be so nice all the time?”

“I’m not always nice,” Matt snickered lightly, “but I’m glad you think so.”

“If I wasn’t drunk,” she practically slurred, “would you want to sleep with me?”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, wait,” she pressed her hand towards the sky—hoping it would land somewhere in Matt’s vicinity. “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

“I’m gonna go get you that water,” Matt managed to squeak out, rising from the bed, “maybe find some Advil. I’ll… be right back.”

Matt could barely make out the agreeing murmur that came from the pillow as he exited the room. The party was still in full swing, the jazz band he tried avoiding earlier was still blaring throughout the home. He didn’t want to cause any suspicion on how well he was navigating through the house—the thought of trying to explain how he found the kitchen based on the faint smell of food nearly halfway across the building—Matt pulled out his cane. It was neatly folded up in his inner jacket pocket, he had (Y/N) to guide him around most of the night, it nearly seemed pointless to bring it.

“Excuse me?”

Matt turned around, having nearly made it to the end of the hallway. He hadn’t heard anyone walking behind him—but to his detriment, he was focusing on (Y/N)’s breathing as he walked away, insuring that it was even.

“Uh, hi,” Matt forced a smile, waving lightly, “I’m just looking for the kitchen… sorta hard to find.” He tapped his cane twice for good measure. The blind thing usually worked.

“And you were hoping to find it in my daughter’s bedroom?”

Shit.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), I’m sorry for the informality,” Matt waited for the man to get closer, hoping he wouldn’t punch him square in the face, “I’ve been meaning to find you this evening to introduce myself—”

“Introduce yourself? Tell me, when exactly did you plan to introduce yourself? Before or after you fucked my daughter?”

Matt could feel the blood drain from his face. He knew that (Y/N) had been joking earlier about the mob thing, but now coming face to face with her father? It didn’t exactly seem too far off. “Sir, I think there’s a bit of misunderstanding—”

“Really? How else am I to take fact the same man my daughter has been carting around all night just exited her bedroom? Said daughter in question nowhere to be found?”

“Your daughter had a little bit too much to drink,” Matt said honestly, “she needed to lay down, so she led me to her room. I was just going to go get her some water. I promise, nothing nefarious, sir.”

The older man huffed, breath hot on his mustache. “And your name?”

“Matthew Murdock,” he outstretched his hand, “I’m a law student with your daughter. Just a friend, I assure you.”

“Just a friend,” he mumbled back, meeting Matt’s hand in a firm shake, “and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“You don’t have to,” Matt smiled brightly, “but it’s the truth. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to meet you all the way back here, would’ve thought you’d be enjoying the party with the rest of your guests.”

“Had to step away for a bit,” her father sniffed, “went to my study to clear my head. These parties are more my wife’s thing.”

Matt could smell the scent of cigars coming off of the man’s suit, the cigars overpowered the other lingering scents that he couldn’t quite pick out, but if he had to guess it was probably something Mr. (Y/L/N) would want to keep from his wife anyhow. “I understand, I get overwhelmed quite easily. These things aren’t particularly my scene.”

“My daughter’s alright, I take it?”

“She’ll be fine,” Matt assured him, “once she gets some water I think she’ll be able to join the masses again. Had a few too many glasses of champagne, I think.”

“She’s not much of a drinker,” her father mused, shoving his hand into his front pocket, “guess that silly little law school of hers has changed her in ways I’ll never understand.”

“Columbia is a prestigious school,” Matt bit back, feeling his chest grow hot in anger, “your daughter is a bright student and intelligent beyond her years. She’s going to be an excellent lawyer, I assure you.”

“Prestigious or not,” the older man sighed, “she’s just wasting her time. Her mother and I already had a charming life planned out for her, a good job, a fair amount of inheritance, a husband—”

“Husband?”

“But she decided to throw all our hard work away and act ungrateful for the entire thing,” he finished, clearly exasperated.

Matt’s grip on his cane grew near-deadly, the anger flushing upwards and outwards—you could probably see the steam leaving his ears. He knew of her parent’s convictions, she had been brave enough to share tidbits here and there about their continuous disappointment. It never, ever, made sense to Matt.

“She,” Matt cleared his throat, “is a wonderful woman. Got accepted into an Ivy League school, practically the top of our class and she makes it look effortless. Any parent would be proud to call her their daughter.”

“I never said I wasn’t proud,” her father groaned lightly, fingers rubbing against his temple, “she’s clearly been making a name for herself in the slums. Look, you’re not a parent, so you have little to say on how I decide parent my own daughter.”

“You’re right,” Matt agreed quickly, without hesitation, “I have very little to say to you.” He began to walk away, towards what was presumably the kitchen. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get some water.”

—

He didn’t mean to practically insult her father, of course not, that wasn’t his intention. Matt was sure he’d hear the ramifications of his actions from (Y/N) at a later date, but until then, he had a job to do. He had—thankfully—returned to her room with ease, a cold glass of water in one hand, a frosted pitcher of it in the other, cane tucked promptly in his armpit.

“S’just me, sweet thing,” Matt mumbled into the dark abyss of the room, hearing her stir slightly at the large wooden door creak shut. “Brought you some water.”

“Matt…?”

“Well, at least I think it’s water,” he chuckled dryly, setting the pitcher down on the picturesque nightstand beside her, “could be more of that sangria your aunt was chugging.”

“Looks like water,” she groggily replied, scraping the sleep out of her eyes, makeup be damned. She had hardly been out for twenty minutes, but the nap hit her like a brick to the chest—a good sleep nonetheless. “Lucky for me I sober up quickly.”

Matt forced a smile, nodding only the once. He could still smell the lingering notes of the champagne on her tongue, but he had half a mind to believe her. “The water will help. I couldn’t find any pain killers though—”

“My purse,” she pointed across the room, “I have a bottle with stuff in it. It’s right next to the door, on the ground to the left.”

His heart warmed at the simple directions—even though he knew full well where her purse was, she took the extra moment to describe the location for him. He momentarily fumbled ‘looking’ for the bag—he’d make a mental note to consider coming clean about his abilities at a later date—and managed to loop the strap onto his arm, carrying it back to the bed with ease. His hand dug around, reaching for the bottle she had spoken of, smiling when his fingers wrapped around a rattling cylinder. “Doesn’t sound like you just have pain killers in here.”

“Pain killers, antidepressants, ecstasy,” she chuckled, popping the top off easily. “Maybe an Adderall or two from Foggy…”

Matt knew she was lying, mostly, anyway. Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of anything past her antidepressants. He listened for the soft sound of her swallowing the capsules before settling onto the mattress beside her. “I’m shocked Foggy even had the thought to give you some.”

“Nah man,” she scoffed playfully, “I had to sell my soul to acquire just the one. Well, my soul and my notes from Professor O’Malley’s lectures.”

“Ah, of course.”

“How long was I out?” “Forty minutes at the most.”

The silence that filled the room was comfortable, to say the least. It usually always was when it was the two of them, but a certain tenseness had overwhelmed Matt’s entire being—a detail not entirely overlooked by the still sobering woman sitting beside him. “You… met my parents, didn’t you?”

“No,” Matt shook his head quickly, “just your father.”

A groan escaped her lips, Matt could only guess it could have been heard over the horrific jazz music down the hall. “Somehow that’s even worse.”

“He was… fine.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

“Matt.”

He pulled his hands up in defense. “Alright, fine maybe he wasn’t fine. We had a small chat and… I completely understand why you had me come tonight. He was practically talking you down every chance he got… Christ, (Y/N), I had no idea that he really disapproved that much—”

“Tell me about it,” she somberly replied, gulping half of the glass of water in her hand. “Wait—when exactly did you run into my dad?”

“He… saw me exit your room and thought that we—that I possibly was up to something—”

“What? Like we were fucking?”

Matt’s face flushed instantly, he was nearly certain of it. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“I think I persuaded him into thinking otherwise,” Matt stated quickly, the words tumbling from his lips. “Convinced him we were only friends.” Her response was muffled, even with his enhanced hearing, the blood that was pumping through his head from the embarrassment was enough to nearly deafen him, even for the moment.

“Would that have been the worst thing?” (Y/N) repeated, fully registering the man’s lack of reaction from her earlier statement. “I mean, in the grand scheme of things?”

“What? That your dad thought we were fucking in your childhood bedroom?”

“Yes! I mean,” she slapped her forehead lightly. “No, obviously. Not that, but, in general? Like we were… together?”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” she mimicked, feeling the shame of a thousand suns burn against her skin. “You don’t—that’s fine, forget I said anything—”

It was against better judgment, Matt could attest to it, but he simply couldn’t wait a second longer to put his lips on hers. He hardly knew how to leave her speechless in the best of times, and with the way she was reacting? The way she practically melted into his touch? Matthew Murdock had yet another trick up his sleeve.

She pulled away much quicker than he would have liked, placing a hand on his chest gently. “I thought you said you didn’t want to take advantage of me?” Her tone was teasing, light.

“You said so yourself,” he pressed his forehead against hers. “You sober up quickly.”

Her laughter morphed into a hiss of pain, gravitating away from his touch. “I might be a liar,” she groaned. “My head is killing me.”

“Liar or not,” Matt said softly, rubbing her hand lovingly. “I don’t intend on doing anything more than kiss you tonight, it wouldn’t be right. I’m sorry for kissing you in the first place.”

A sly grin pulled against her lips. “So you do want to do more than just kiss me?”

Matt laughed lightly. “I may be blind, but I’m not stupid, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now and, based on your comments tonight we probably could’ve been kissing a lot earlier.”

“Oh yeah,” she scoffed playfully. “I’ve wanted to do something about my major crush on you since our ethics class.”

It was Matt’s turn to grin. “‘Major crush?’”

“Ginormous,” she nodded. “I’m talking like, heart eyes every time you would walk into the room sort of crush.”

He always had a small suspicion that she felt a little more than just friendship for him—based on her vitals and breathing patterns, naturally—but hearing her confirm it was like music to his ears. “You’re making it really hard to not kiss you again.”

“Good,” (Y/N) mused, squeezing his hand tighter. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“How about I take you out first? We can kiss all we want after.”

She frowned. “Just kiss?”

Matt leaned in closer.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to not get any use out of your lacy underwear, would we?”

The couple erupted into a fit of giggles, both thinking fondly on ways to thank Foggy for flaking.

—

BONUS: “Look, guys, I’m happy that you two finally got your heads outta the sand and got together and are acting like the grossest couple imaginable, truly,” Foggy said, sipping his coffee quickly, eyeing the new couple down. “But you do realize this wasn’t some grand scheme or anything, I really was sick last week?”

Matt laughed. “Sure you were, Fog.”

(Y/N) followed suit in her own flurry of giggles. “Oh yeah, I’m so sure.”

Foggy stared at his two best friends, looking back and forth between the lovebirds. He sighed. Loudly.

#matt murdock #daredevil #marvel #matthew murdock x reader #marvel x reader #reader insert #hope y'all enjoy pardners #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock

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whump-card · 1 year ago

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Sunless Lives Part 24: I Will Not Go

~1320 words

CW: conservatorship, loss of rights, drugging

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~~~

M BECK: I’m just worried about my possessiveness. I don’t know how I’m going to treat him if I’m around him again. I don’t want to be controlling.

DR MANDAL: You’re using two different words here. Possessive and controlling. I think they’re a little different. Do you think both are true?

M BECK: I don’t know.

DR MANDAL: Let’s talk about possessiveness first. Do you want to possess Simon?

M BECK: Not really. Or, in a way. I guess I do want to but I know that that would be bad.

DR MANDAL: Why would it be bad?

M BECK: I don’t want to own him. That’s what the vampire wanted. That feels dehumanizing. But I do want him to be mine. But I want him to be his own person, too.

DR MANDAL: Matthew, I’m going to be honest, that sounds like a healthy level of desire for another person. You want him, but you still want him to be his own person. I think that’s normal.

M BECK: Oh.

DR MANDAL: Have you had many serious relationships before? Where you were as in love with someone else as you are with Simon?

M BECK: No.

DR MANDAL: So this level of desire is new for you.

M BECK: I guess.

DR MANDAL: Love can be scary.

[0:38]

DR MANDAL: Do you want to talk about feeling controlling now?

M BECK: Okay.

DR MANDAL: What makes you want to control Simon?

M BECK: I think he makes bad decisions sometimes. He has trouble taking care of himself.

DR MANDAL: What are some examples?

M BECK: Staying with the vampire. Or the way he lets Isles treat him.

DR MANDAL: Anything else?

M BECK: Um.

DR MANDAL: Those aren’t very many bad decisions. Can you think of some good decisions that he made, or times that he took care of himself?

M BECK: Yeah. Yeah. He knew that victim protection wouldn’t keep him safe, after Lara, and he was smart enough to tell Isles that. He’s always reading self-improvement stuff. He convinced me, um, the vampire, to get the cure. He opened up to me when he needed to after Finch. There were a couple times when we were dating too where he really clearly told me when something bothered him, and I appreciated that. Um. I know there’s more.

DR MANDAL: Sounds like he makes more good decisions than bad.

M BECK: Yeah. You’re right.

DR MANDAL: So if he makes good decisions and takes care of himself most of the time, maybe you can let go of that need to control.

M BECK: Oh.

DR MANDAL: Can you trust him to take care of himself?

M BECK: Yeah. I think I can. God, I can’t believe I called him an idiot. Do you think I’ll be able to call him soon?

~~~

Simon stepped out into the hallway of the clinic, blinking hard and gripping his coat tight. Amber and Christian were talking to each other in hushed tones that fell silent when they saw him.

“Ready to go?” Amber asked. Simon flinched a little at her loud voice, remembering her gun. Remembering that she’d almost shot Matthew. That she still might, if anything they did antagonized him.

Simon nodded quickly, not trusting his own voice.

“We’ll walk you out,” Christian said, smiling at him. It wasn’t comforting. They started walking through the clinic, back out the way they came in. They passed through the waiting room and came to the front doors.

“Put your coat on, it’s cold out.” Christian ordered.

Still a little dazed, Simon pulled on his coat and struggled with the zipper.

“Let me.” Christian butted in and zipped it up for him. Simon opened his mouth to complain, but thought better of it.

“Listen.” Christian settled his hands on Simon’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You’ll only be at Fort Summerwhite until I get your list squared away. After that… we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Okay?”

It was very much not okay, but Simon was too afraid of what Matthew might do if he put up a fuss. Of what Chris and Amber might do to Matthew in turn. So he nodded, and let Christian guide him by the arm through the doors, past the police officers standing guard and onto the sidewalk. There was a car waiting, a gray sedan. Christian opened the backseat door for him, and Simon got in, heart pounding. Two men sat in the front. A tall woman sat on the other side of the back seat, smiling at him.

“Hello there, you must be Simon! My name is Kelly, I work for Fort Summerwhite.”

Simon jumped when the door slammed shut. They were just putting him in a car, with strangers, to be driven off to God-knows-where.

This never ends well.

He could only barely see through the tinted windows as the car pulled away and Christian waved at him from the sidewalk. Kelly rambled on about Summerwhite’s amenities and how much he was going to love it there, but Simon couldn’t focus. He hadn't even found out exactly where Matthew was going. How would he know where to go, where to call? He needed to call Gina, and Matthew’s dad, and find out where they were too.

Matthew had told him to go to Summerwhite, to get better, and Matthew was always right, but… Simon could get better on his own. He always had before. He knew how to take care of himself. He could do it, without being locked up by strangers.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said loudly, interrupting Kelly’s pitch. “I don’t want to go. If you could pull over and let me out, please.”

Kelly sucked in a breath, hesitating.

“Simon, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“What? No, just pull over here, and…”

“Simon,” her voice was firm, “Do you know what a conservatorship is?”

He didn’t, but something about her change in tone froze him with dread.

“Your boss and friends were so very worried about you,” she continued, now condescendingly sweet, “And they felt like you couldn’t take care of yourself. So your boss, Cristian Isles, had a court place you under a conservatorship. It means you don’t have to worry about making any tough decisions for a while. You can just rest and be taken care of by everyone at Summerwhite.”

Simon still didn’t fully understand, but he knew it was something bad.

“No, no, I’m not consenting to treatment. I don’t want to be in this car anymore, you have to let me out or it’s kidnapping. Pull over.” His voice wavered with uncertainty.

“It’s actually not, Simon,” she said slowly, “Captain Isles is your conservator, and he has placed you in our custody, and we’re taking you to Fort Summerwhite for your own safety.”

“No, you can’t…” The car slowed at a red light, and Simon unbuckled his seatbelt and yanked on the door handle. It was locked.

“Let me out!” he shouted, searching for the lock, running his hands over the door to no avail.

“You need help, Kelly?” the man in the passenger seat asked.

“Let me out!” Simon leaned forward to yell at the driver.

“Yes, I think so,” Kelly frowned at Simon, “But be careful.”

“You can’t do this!” Simon insisted, “This is kidnapping, I don’t want to be here -”

The man in the passenger seat took something out of the glove box and as the car fully stopped at the light he got out and opened Simon’s door. Simon leapt at the chance and tried to jump out past the man into the street, but the man easily caught him around the waist.

“Help!” Simon screamed, shoving and clawing at the man, “Somebody help!”

But strong hands twisted his arm and slammed him against the side of the car, and a sharp sting in his neck made him cry out. His words fell apart into a jumble, then his thoughts, then his sight.

Then nothing.

~~~

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Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sunless lives arc 3 #cw conservatorship #cw loss of rights #cw drugging #sunless lives #my writing

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 2 years ago

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2022 MOVIE OF THE WEEK #35

die hard. can you believe i had never seen this movie until this year’s holiday season? cuz i can’t really believe it. i went through such a bruce willis phase when i was younger, i used to own the dvd set of moonlighting and i watched him on friends and in movies with matthew perry and the fifth element was a classic in my house...somehow this one just escaped me, i think because my mom’s Action Men tastes were very specifically adrian paul and chuck norris. whereas mine can probably be best described as ‘aw shucks schlubby charm,’ dudes who just seem more normal until they are required to be badasses. bruce willis, david harbour...i can’t remember what other actor i realized he reminds me of while watching this, but i know i told leander and was pleased by the realization, so i’m sure there are more examples.

anyway, this was so not on my radar; i didn’t even know what it was about other than through cultural osmosis. when a movie is mentioned as often as this one, you Know It even when you don’t. though there is a specific kind of joy that comes from finally seeing the line ‘yippee ki-yay, motherfucker’ delivered in its original context. that was fun.

until pretty recently, i didn’t know alan rickman was the antagonist--that was a large part of why i watched. and boy does he make a meal out of this role. a significant chunk of this movie was just me thinking about what a great actor he is in this. his line deliveries are so delicious that i made a mental note just to mention ‘ho...ho...ho.’ as something nobody else could have had as much fun with. i was truly sad when his character finally died, because of course that ending was always going to come, but i didn’t want it to. the mark of a good villain is actually wanting more of them when you’re not supposed to like them in the first place, and he was an excellent villain--clever and funny with his own moral code, perfect to face off against bruce willis’s unexpected hero.

besides alan rickman, the other reason i decided to watch this (with @actuallylukedanes and their fiance who had both seen it before) was that it was featured in an episode of you are good, a movie podcast i like, which meant i’d already heard about the plot and figured that might help me enjoy it more. (normally if they discuss movies i intend to watch, i skip those episodes to avoid spoilers, but i never planned to see this one. lol.) anyway, they watched it as one of their christmas picks, and i knew there was a big debate about whether or not it counts as a christmas movie.

now that i’ve seen it, i feel like the debate is settled and it is OBVIOUSLY a christmas movie, no question. it is in my opinion a movie about a bunch of people (including john mcclain) having the worst christmas of their lives, and there was something i found oddly comforting about that. with my shiny new holiday depression this year, i wasn’t in the mood for any holiday movies--but i would rewatch this one every christmas, because like any good christmas movie there is a party and people remember that family is the most important thing. but UNLIKE other christmas movies, it has alan rickman taking his craft super seriously while bruce willis is in his softest and prettiest young phase, which i adore. and things explode.

(i also need us all to move on from this ‘is it a christmas movie?’ debate so people can be converted to the cult of my much more underappreciated christmas fave, batman returns. tim burton said gotham christmas but make it creepy! and michelle pfieffer learned better whip skills than harrison ford just to manifest it. the true spirit of christmas is being reanimated by cats, and using your new nine lives to flirt with a wealthy orphan while seeking vengeance on anyone who wronged you.)

i’m sure i could go on, but you can tell how old this movie is from the poster up there--i was barely ALIVE when this came out, lol. so i am very late to the party and i doubt a ton of people need me going on and on about it. besides alan rickman and bruce willis, i didn’t know most of the cast, but they all did a good job, there was at least one plot thread that didn’t go the way i expected, and i was pleasantly surprised by that. this movie’s racial politics make me reeeeally uncomfortable, but it’s not at all unusual for its time. the one honorable mention i’d give in casting is to the actor i grew up watching on family matters who plays a central role in helping john survive. he’s portrayed as a black hero, but he can’t just be one because he’s john’s emotional support system throughout the movie--no, he has to become a ‘real’ cop again by shooting a guy. at the same time, you have two major comic relief characters, and both are young black men; one driving john’s limo and the other handling technology for the villain. there’s a same sort of ‘balance’ with the movie’s two asian characters, the seemingly kind company owner who’s murdered early on versus a team member of the villain whose role is also tiny.

the movie is also trying to say stuff (or is just accidentally saying stuff based on the era) around post-soviet american perspectives, but i feel like the racial element sticks out way more because it goes uncommented on. like since it’s clearly not something the plot thinks about, these choices are even more noticeable and important because they reflect the buried stuff.

idk, i just have a lot of feelings about the fact that john’s friend over the radio couldn’t be really redeemed unless he used his gun. or about the fact that he and john are both cops in the first place, so even this sort of ‘everyman’ action movie is promoting the idea that while the fbi and other bureaucracy is useless or will even make things worse, good cops are the only hope we have.

and his marital reconciliation--i basically just threw up my hands with that one, because i don’t think a near-death experience on christmas will automatically save your marriage. but at the same time, if your wife’s problem with you is that you wouldn’t follow her to her new job, and you finally show up there and save a whole building full of people while she’s in it...then yeah, okay, whatever. maybe that’s all it takes. i mean, if i were her, i’d probably be willing to consider applying for jobs back in new york after that anyway. they’ve definitely earned some kind of happy ending.

in conclusion, i loved this movie. it is an action movie classic in the truest sense of how that felt in the 80s and 90s, and it features bruce willis at his finest and alan rickman briefly doing an american accent and a whole very huge lot of broken glass. broken glass is basically a character in this movie. die hard was an excellent christmas choice for me this year and i’m glad i was welcome to join in the watching. :)

#actuallylukedanes #convinced me to start posting my completed reviews even when they're out of chronological order #so here we go!#die hard #2022 motw #bruce willis #alan rickman #i have the best best friend

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hanbinics · 2 months ago

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at dawn — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !femreader

contents ⟶ angst, death, suggestive content.

word count ⟶ 2.5k

The first time meeting you was the definition of a fluke. He didn’t even like coffee, hated the way it made his fingers shake and his body jittery. But if it meant catching a glimpse of the pretty blonde girl behind the counter, the one from his calculus class, then he would sacrifice an extra thirty minutes of sleep in the morning.

Needless to say, he’d been extra tired that morning, his dark hair hanging carelessly in his eyes after losing the brush he’d usually run through it, and the line was so long. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get his opportunity to step up, to introduce himself after weeks of quietly admiring her during class and around random spots on campus, and when the line finally does come to his favor, he can’t believe his luck.

The pretty blonde girl is nowhere to be found, but standing in her place, is you. And really, you’re just as pretty. Small fingers tap at the screen in front of you, full lips pressed together in a sort of natural pout, and bright eyes hide beneath the hat included in your uniform.

You’re beautiful—you’re just not her.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a soft smile, tone far too chipper for this hour. Still, he’s entranced. “What can I get for you today?”

Expectant eyes stare back at him and Matt feels his cheeks flush, hoping they’re not as pink as they feel. Even more so, he hopes you don’t realize that he’s just been staring like an idiot.

“Right,” he finally breathes out upon realizing he needs to answer you, feeling jittery enough without the coffee. He wants to ask you where she is, if she’s not working today—the girl from calculus of course—but it’s obvious that’s the case, and he can’t risk any more warmth in his cheeks than he’s already suffered from.

“Actually, do you uh—” he pauses, clears his throat. “Any recommendations?”

He has no clue what to get, doesn’t know what he would like, but he would feel silly for walking in here and leaving with nothing, and he’s already embarrassed himself enough.

Thankfully, you’re patient with him. You can tell he’s a little nervous, can see it in the way his teeth dig into the soft flesh of his lower lip and his long fingers tap on the granite counter top separating the two of you. You don’t know why he’s come in here this way, but you can’t help but find it cute—endearing even—and the fact that he’s already attractive helps.

After settling on something that has a lot of creamer and sugar, making it taste less like coffee than anything, Matt feels better than he had when he first came in here. A taste test allows him to spend a few extra minutes with you, the line behind him nonexistent, and he decides now is his chance.

“I don’t even like coffee.”

The words fall from his mouth without a second thought, and it’s not until the prettiest laugh comes from yours that he realizes what he’s said, his cheeks warm and a goofy smile stretching his mouth.

“Okay,” you start, eyes dancing with amusement, “so why did you really come in here?” There’s a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He’s charming without even trying, and it’s almost intimidating that someone could hold your attention so easily.

Matt could’ve told you the real reason why he came—could have told you that he wanted a chance to talk to the pretty girl from calculus after finding out she worked there, thinking he could grab her number and the rest would be history. But funny enough, he can’t allow the words to leave his mouth when he’s looking at you. Your pretty eyes wait expectantly—hopefully—and suddenly he’s sure of his answer.

“I thought buying coffee was the only excuse I had to talk to a pretty girl,” he admits, blue eyes dancing with a smile that reflects the one growing on his face.

When he finally left, all smiles and jittery hands, he did so with the promise of seeing you again and your number stored safely in his phone, coffee having nothing to do with his current state.

Your first date had him in shambles. Even after Nick had helped him get ready, which mostly consisted of teasing him for being so nervous, Matt couldn’t calm his fluttering heart. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous around a girl, but he also couldn’t remember any whose eyes shined when they laughed or whose smile made him do the same as if out of instinct—like he couldn’t fucking help it.

Nick had tried to convince him to take you out to dinner, somewhere nice with an expensive menu, despite the fact that you were both working college students. He had said it would set him apart from the other guys, that you would be impressed with his choice. But he didn’t think you would like that, didn’t think it suited someone like you, and when he spent the entire night watching you walk through the aquarium with wide, starry eyes, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Talking to you was so easy. He’d been worried it would be awkward, that he would inevitably suffer from his own demise and become unable to come up with anything to fill the night. But for the most part, you did all the talking. You told him about your family, about your classes and what you hoped to accomplish once you were finished with school. And when you finally looked at him with a hint of pink coloring the apples of your cheeks, apologizing for “babbling,” he couldn’t help but immediately shut down your fears, a soft smile on his face while he insisted that he wanted to hear more. Apparently that was enough for you if the smile in your eyes was any indication. He couldn’t believe that you continued to grace his ears with the sound of your voice for the rest of the night.

When he took you back to your dorm, a blanket of disappointment hugged his body. He had spent all night with you, probably longer than either of you had planned on, and he knew he would be exhausted in the morning for his first class. But listening to you talk about your life, about the future you had planned and your dreams of pursuing something your family didn’t think was possible for you—it all left him wanting more. He was in awe of you, of everything you stood for and everything you embodied. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to know anything about you.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you finally say quietly when the two of you are standing in front of your door. The end of the night has come and Matt selfishly wishes he had more of you, that he could have you as long as he wanted whenever he pleased. Fuck, was he attached.

The brunette knew he should respond, should tell you how good of a time he had and that he would love to do it again. But there’s a look to you that has him hesitating on that, his gaze searching yours for an answer to a question he’s unsure of. Telling you the obvious seems so stupid and the closer his mouth gets to yours until he can feel your breath against his lips answers the unasked question dangling on the tip of his tongue, mouths pressing together in what feels like the equivalent to a sigh of relief, to the climax of a novel.

You had him completely—hook, line and sinker.

Your first fight was incredibly stupid. Missed calls, short messages back and forth, and rain checks on dates all lead to one explosive yelling match between the two of you. He knew it would come to a head at some point, could feel the tension building, but he regretted every nasty thing that left his mouth when it finally happened, the words feeling like acid on his tongue when he saw the way your eyes glistened with unshed tears, when he saw the way you turned your head away from him so he wouldn’t be able to see them when they finally did escape.

You were standing on the other side of your room, arms wrapped around your torso and your head bent, letting out every frustration you felt through the tears rolling down your cheeks and the quiet sobs shaking your body. It felt like a knife to his ribs to see you this way, to know that he held any sort of responsibility for it, and more than anything it made him realize just how fucking badly he needed you.

“Baby,” came his soft tone after a few minutes of silence save for your quiet cries, “I’m sorry..”

You didn’t stop crying. You didn’t even turn to look at him, couldn’t see how sincere he was being, and it only pained him more to realize that maybe you couldn’t look at him.

Matt moved closer to you, his hands gentle when taking your hips into his grip. You were tense at first and it killed him, hating the idea of his touch ever causing that sort of reaction. But his arms sliding around you from behind and replacing the way you hugged yourself melted something inside of you, offering a sense of safety that your own arms could never give you. He was everything you yearned for, and it’s all you had been wanting over the last few weeks—some reassurance. It was silly to think that your schedules wouldn’t conflict, but the way the both of you handled it was even sillier, and you felt guilty as he held you, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he mumbled sweet affirmations into your skin.

When he somehow got you to finally look at him, he still held you, but this time with his hands cupping your face, thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks to catch any remaining tears falling.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he tells you again, blue eyes holding a sincerity you know he could never fake. Everything he did was out of love—from the way he looked at you to the way he pressed sweet kisses to your face, making sure to touch every inch that tears had passed through and more in his attempt to apologize.

Kissing lead to touching and touching lead to trusting—trusting him enough to let him lay you down, enough to let his hands rid you of every piece of clothing hiding your bare and most vulnerable form from him. It was then, with his lips pressed to the hollow of your neck and your chest pressed to his, the brunette buried between your legs that he told you he loved you for the first time in a breathy, broken voice the moment your high was coming down, and it felt like you were on cloud fucking nine.

Nothing, the both of you were sure, would ever top that moment.

Christmas came so much faster than either of you had expected. Months of you spending time together only felt like seconds, and Matt was sure this was what being in love was supposed to feel like.

The holidays were here and after gushing to your respective families about one another, it was no surprise that the excitement of meeting everyone was settling in the pits of your stomachs. For Matt, and he was sure you felt the same, this was more than telling his family he had a new girlfriend. You were the one he included when he talked about his future, his dreams, and it was important that this time was used to show the people he cared most about that he had found the person now included in that circle.

“Are you sure you’re not going to fall asleep again?” you had asked him, an amused smile on your lip as you took in your sleepy boyfriend.

It was early in the morning—too early for either of you, really. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, early hints of pinks and shades of orange kissing the sky. You both would have liked to admire the pretty view if time permitted it, but unfortunately home was far from campus, and you needed to leave soon if you were going to make it there on time.

“I’m sure,” Matt had responded with a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to your mouth for good measure. You seemed to accept his words more when his mouth was pressed to yours, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Heading out to the parking lot, he helped get your suitcases into your car, making sure there was enough room for everything. The plan was to meet you there tomorrow morning since he had one more exam to take. He wanted to go with you, knowing it would make him less nervous with your hand in his when he finally arrived to your parents’ house, but he needed to do well on this last exam.

“I’ll be up there first thing tomorrow morning,” Matt assured you, his mouth feeling like a magnet from the way it almost immediately found yours afterward.

You smiled when the two of you separated, admiring the way the falling snow clung to his eyelashes for a moment before finally melting. He watched you get into your car, waited until you were pulling out of the parking lot, until you were too far for him to see you anymore.

He didn’t know it was the last time he would see you.

Matt wakes to something cold on his face. Instinctively, his fingers brush his cheeks, but when he pulls them away to examine the culprit, he realizes they are his own tears.

Sitting up from the stiff, half-frozen grass beneath him, he takes a moment to look around. He’s the only one here, as usual. The guilty habit has eaten him up inside and worried friends and family, but he can’t bring himself to stop—one year later and he still finds himself lost, wandering, until he ends up at the one spot that brings him any sort of solace.

Turning slightly, blue eyes find the cement headstone that stands before the spot where you rest. The moment that he lays his gaze on it usually sends him into tears, unable to find any regular breathing to calm his racing heart, but today is different. The cold air breathes some sort of life into him, it feeling refreshing rather than suffocating. For once, he doesn’t have to fight for air.

Confusion makes his thoughts hazy, but when he looks up at the sky, it’s like a blanket of warmth wraps around his shoulders. Dawn brings hues of oranges and pinks to paint the cloudless skies, and for the first time since you left him, he feels your presence again.

a/n. i wrote this piece a really long time ago, so i'm not sure how i feel abt it now. but i <3 angst so here u go.

©hanbinics

ღ solid divider by @/adornedwithlight ღ ღ moon divider by strangergraphics-archive ღ

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #sturniolo triplets x reader

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daydreamerdrew · 7 months ago

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Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

Captain America (2017) #695-700

These issues were published across November 2017 to April 2018, according to the Marvel Wiki. All were written by Mark Waid, drawn by Chris Samnee, and colored by Matthew Wilson.

Issues #695-697 were all stand-alone stories, part of an arc called “Home of the Brave,” as Steve was road-tripping through the United States in search of a new place to settle down. He explains this in issue #696 as, “I’m tired of being a couch-surfer. I haven’t had my own place in years that wasn’t subsidized by S.H.I.E.L.D. or Tony Stark or whoever before all that went away. Which always tied me to the New York area.”

I found the Captain America event in issue #695 endearing. And I liked Steve’s ethos of “The strong protect the weak,” told to a child at one point as “You have to protect Jacob. [..] Because he’s smaller than you.” I was surprised by the depiction, in a flashback to back when Steve had only recently been unfrozen, that Captain America had been largely forgotten and people didn’t recognize him. I’ve elsewhere seen it portrayed that he was remembered as an important historical figure and him being discovered to still be alive was a big deal. In issue #696, when Steve’s encouraged to take steps to prevent being recognized so that he’s not bombarded by fans and reporters wherever he goes, he says, “It’s not something I give a lot of thought to, to be honest.” Steve’s relationship to media attention is something I find really interesting. This portrayal is simple, but it works for the character. Also, I liked how casual he was at the end of the issue about saving a town. And I enjoyed the opening scene of issue #697, where Steve is casually chatting with a woman in a bar.

Issue #698 is where things really kicked off for me as a reader, with the storyline “Out of Time,” which went from there to issue #700. In this story Steve is frozen in ice once again, only to be woken up in a dystopic America where almost all of the heroes he knew are dead. In issue #698 Steve learns about this new America he’s found himself in, and resolves to “take our country back.” Issue #699 is that overthrow of the corrupt elite. And then in issue #700 Steve struggles to rebuild America from there.

In issue #698 Steve says to Liang, the character who becomes his primary ally in this dystopian future, “‘Doesn’t it destroy you to find out your life’s work left no impact?’ Is that your question? Because I’m trying not to think about it. Right now, I have a job to do.”

In issue #699 she says, “I know you wish you were back home.” He responds, “‘Home’ is wherever my country needs me, Liang. But yes, I do. Still, I’ve made this sort of leap across time before. And like the last one… I need to make peace with the fact that it’s probably a one-way trip.”

Issue #700 is where things got emotional for me. 80 days into building “New America,” Steve is offered a way to go back in time for prevent the apocalypse from ever happening, which he turns down. He explains, “What if all that does is create an alternate timeline? How would that fix the here and now? Or what if I go back in time and somehow fail? That takes me off the board altogether, and then how many more of us die?” At this point in time Steve ultimately believes that, “Your reality is theoretical. Mine is concrete. Real lives versus hypotheticals. […] I can’t abandon this fight. I promised to make this right, and I can.”

But it’s not easy, and 349 days in they suffer a crushing blow, which causes Steve to have a change of heart. He dismisses his earlier mentality as “over-confident” and says he should, “think, not just act. I’ve been ordering my men not to waste energy dying on every hill, but that’s the problem- I don’t know how to stop. I never did.” He says, “Hope is not a plan,” which is called, “the least Captain America thing I ever heard.” And he says that at this point he can either give or accept the Hail Mary, and “I don’t know how to give up.”

Steve is sent back to right when he was frozen in ice, and right before the nuclear bombs were launched. He quickly attacks the villain’s base, but the bombs were still activated. It takes Steve sacrificing himself, with only seconds to spare, to save the world. His final words were him accepting, “I don’t know how to stop. I never did. Hope is not a plan. But you sure as hell can’t win without it.” I had already thought that the way Chris Samnee drew Steve going back in time was beautiful, but the way he drew Steve burning up to parallel that was so impactful. This Steve dies, but the frozen Steve is broken out of the ice by the explosion. And he goes on with his life having no idea about his other self’s sacrifice or experiences in the future. He does happen to come across Liang, but the meeting has no emotional significance to either of them.

The Avengers (1963) #39

This issue was published in February 1967, according to the Marvel Wiki. It was written by Roy Thomas, penciled by Don Heck, and inked by George Roussos.

In previous issues Hank was particularly suspicious of Natasha. In issue #38 he voiced that he wouldn’t stand for her being allowed to officially join the Avengers. She’d been hanging around for a while as Clint’s girlfriend. But Natasha, who’d previously expressed that she wanted to be an official Avenger, shocked them all by announcing that she was breaking up with Clint and leaving the country. She’d been recruited by Nick Fury for a spy mission and was specifically asked to not tell anyone the truth about what she was doing. She’d hoped that by hurting Clint’s feelings she’s stop him from following her, which would endanger him. Hank surprised me during this by saying, “There must be more to this than meets the eye! I may not be a charter member of your fan club, Widow- But I had never figured you for sellin’ out,” before accepting that she was probably telling the truth about her intentions.

In this issue it’s public knowledge that Natasha betrayed the country, and Hank surprised me again by not believing it, saying that, “there’s some reason for her acts! There must be!” The rest of the Avengers are skeptical, too, but Hank seems to me to be the most vocal one. Clint is the exception. He actually left the scene before this conversation, and when he speaks elsewhere on his own he’s expresses that he’s plotting to find Natasha, “Then, maybe- just maybe- I can talk some sense into her- Before it’s too late!”

There’s also a scene at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Nick Fury, Dum Dum Dugan, and Jasper Sitwell. Jasper questions, “But, Colonel- Are you positive she can be trusted?” Nick Fury responds, “We got no choice, Sitwell! We gotta trust her!” This is of particular interest to me because I’m already interested in Natasha and Nick’s relationship, and I like Jasper and it’s stated in Winter Soldier (2012) that Natasha particularly got along well with him.

DC Comics:

Batman (2016) #25-32

These issues were published across June 2017 to October 2017 according to the Grand Comics Database. I’m continuing working through rereading Tom King’s Batman run.

Issues #25-26 and #28-29 and #31-32 were “The War of Jokes and Riddles” storyline. All were drawn by Mikel Janín, except that Hugo Petrus also worked on the inking of issue #29. All were colored by June Chung. Issues #27 and #30 were ‘interlude’ stories, though still strongly related, titled “The Ballad of Kite-Man.” Both were penciled by Clay Mann. Issue #27 was inked by Danny Miki, John Livesay, and Clay Mann, and was colored by Gabe Eltaeb. And issue #30 was inked by Seth Mann, and was colored by Jordie Bellaire.

I remember not liking this arc the first time I read the book. It worked better for me this time, but I think that’s partially because there’s been a little bit of time since I read the first 24 issues of this book. Those first four storylines and what they meant for Bruce’s character were of more interest to me, but this time there was more distance for me as a reader from that more intriguing storytelling.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #16-20

These issues were published across February 1991 to June 1991, according to the Grand Comics Database. All were written by Denny O’Neil. The layouts of all of the issues were drawn by Trevor Von Eeden, which were finished by Russ Braun, and then inked by José Luis García-López. This was the “Venom” storyline, in which Bruce became addicted to and then recovered from an early version of the villain Bane’s fictional drug.

I wasn’t really that into this one. I’ll note that the previous storylines in this book have each followed chronologically near the start of Bruce’s career as Batman, including as part of the stories the creation of the Batcave, the Batmobile, ect. This arc is the first departure from that. Nothing indicates that this story takes place towards the beginning of Bruce’s career as Batman, and also the opening narration of the first issue refers to the story as being reflected upon from the future.

Action Comics (2016) #1064

This issue was published this month, April 2024. It was written by Joshua Williamson, drawn by Rafa Sandoval, and colored by Alejandro Sánchez.

I pretty much said everything I wanted to say about this issue here.

#comics read this past week #my posts

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shammah8 · 8 months ago

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RHAPSODY OF REALITIES

📅 TUES. 12TH MARCH 2024

JUST SAY “YES”

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And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men (Matthew 4:19).

Pastor Chris Says

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Oftentimes, many are plagued with the question of how to make the wonderful blessings of the Gospel they’ve read about in the Scriptures a reality in their lives. There seems to be a gulf between all that the Bible says is theirs in Christ and their experience of Him.

But the words of Jesus in our opening verse unveil a simple principle that can help us understand how to bring these blessings to light, and how to have them manifested in your life. He said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” He didn’t say, “Follow me and try to become fishers of men.”

Don’t try to be who you already are; don’t struggle to get what you already have; just say, “Yes” to Him. Say yes to His Word. Every so often you declare, “I’m what God says I am; I have what He says I have, and I can do what He says I can do.” So, if you were a cell leader, for example, don’t say, “I’ve been pursuing my members; I can’t understand why only 4 out of my 20 members come for meetings. I just keep trying and I have done everything.”

Jesus said, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” But, here you are, “trying” to be a fisher of men and it’s not working. Stop struggling. Stop trying to convert souls; become what you really are by saying, “Yes!” It sounds too simple, but that’s how it works.

What could be harder than the salvation of the human spirit? Even so, we received salvation by simply saying “Yes” to God! All the blessings we now enjoy came because of the salvation we received by saying, “Yes, I believe in Jesus Christ that He died for me and that God raised Him from the dead; and I declare that He is Lord of my life.” And that was it.

You believed and said, “Yes!” You talked "your believing" and it was settled; it worked. If it worked for salvation (and salvation includes everything that the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ consummated for us), then the same principle will work for your ministry, your family life, your finances, your job and everything in this world! Just say, “Yes!” Believe and talk your believing

🙏 P R A Y E R

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Dear Father, thank you for giving me everything I require to live victoriously and be a success in life. I follow you in and by the Word. I’m what you say I am, I have what you say I have, and I can do what you say I can do. You’ve given me a life of praise, glory and thanksgiving. Thank you for your Word that prevails in and through me today, in Jesus’ Name. Amen.

📖 FURTHER STUDY:

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2 Corinthians 1:20 NLT; For all of God’s promises have been fulfilled in Christ with a resounding “Yes!” And through Christ, our “Amen” (which means “Yes”) ascends to God for his glory.

James 1:22-25; But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.

[23] For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass:

[24] for he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.

[25] But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed.

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the-perfect-author · 2 years ago

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This Year Think Possible

‘With God all things are possible.’ Matthew 19:26 KJV

Read these two Scriptures: ‘With God all things are possible.’ (Matthew1 9:26 KJV) ‘Now He did not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief.’ (Matthew 13:58 NKJV) Those two verses mean this: many things that are possible remain undone because of doubt and unbelief. So, this year, think possible. If God’s Word says you can succeed, but you’re failing, it may mean that you don’t really believe what He says, or you’re not willing to do your part. When you think ‘possible’, it increases your energy level. You only invest yourself in what you believe can succeed.

So, when you think possible and trust God for success, your faith becomes the energising force. The first step to thinking possible is to stop yourself from searching for and dwelling on what’s wrong with each situation and eliminate the negative self-talk you hear in your head before you have even opened your mouth. ‘The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences.’ (Proverbs 18:21 NLT) In order to think ‘possible’, you must believe and speak ‘possible’.

The Bible says, ‘But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.’ (Hebrews 11:6 NKJV)

Twelve spies entered the Promised Land, but only two came back and said, ‘We are well able to overcome it.’ (Numbers 13:30 NKJV) God had promised it to them, but the majority thought it couldn’t be done. People who think possible not only create forward-looking, optimistic pictures of the future in their own minds but also in the minds of others. And the opposite is also true.

So, how’s your approach to life? When you face the unknown, the undone, or the untried, do you focus on all the things that can go wrong or all the things that can go right? Aerospace engineer, Wernher von Braun, said, ‘I have learned to use the word impossible with the greatest caution.’ He was the scientist who made it possible for the first man to walk on the moon!

John Andrew Holmes said: ‘Never tell a young person that anything cannot be done. God may have been waiting centuries for somebody ignorant enough of the impossible to do that very thing.’ If you want to achieve something, give yourself permission to believe it is possible, as you trust God for success. In fact start to dream beyond the possible to the impossible.

‘Then he had another dream.’ Genesis 37:9 NIV. Joseph had two dreams. The second was bigger than the first. His first dream was a field of sheaves; the second dream was a sky full of stars. So learn to dream bigger! Henry Curtis said: ‘Make your plans as fantastic as you like because twenty-five years from now, they will seem mediocre. Make your plans ten times as great as you first planned, and twenty-five years from now, you will wonder why you did not make them fifty times as great.’

There is only one way to keep growing: make your goal a step beyond what makes you comfortable. That will force you to keep growing! And it will also set you up to believe God for greater things. Most people want their lives to keep improving, yet they value peace and stability at the same time. They forget that you can’t improve and stay the same. Growth means change, and that means challenging the status quo. Thinking possible means you can’t settle for what you have now. There will always be people around you who want you to give up your dream and embrace the status quo. Love them, but don’t be led by them.

As you begin to believe God for greater things and others try to throw cold water on you, remember that right now, as you read this page, other people around the world are thinking about curing cancer, developing new energy sources, feeding the hungry, improving the quality of life, seeking God to bring healing into communities and winning whole nations for Christ. They are beating the odds and challenging the status quo simply because they believe that in Christ ‘all things are possible’ —and you must too.

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#work emails

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lupoteodoro · 2 years ago

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don’t miss this

#i can’t believe matthew settle is really there #perhaps his first public apparence in five years?#matthew settle #ross mccall #rick gomez #shane taylor #band of brothers #bob cast

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ofoceanandwaves · 2 years ago

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till then my windows ache

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Calliope

Warnings: None, save for what we've already heard on the show

Words: 1.5k

A/N: this wouldn't leave my head! Ever since that episode, it dragged me out of writer's block and even though it was hard, the words just be there. I don't think I've done them justice (Dream is hard to write for but as someone who has a huge block, everyone is hard to write for lol) or if anyone would even be interested in this but just putting it out there.

-x-

It takes great deal of courage and a pep talk from his sister and Matthew to finally decide on doing it. Dream has not done this for ages but he isn’t really surprised when the remembrance of the exact steps to be taken to call for his ex-wife doesn’t take any strain.

He feels her presence almost immediately. Turning around, his breath hitches in his throat as he takes her in. Dressed in a pale blue sundress, she looks breathtakingly beautiful. On second look, he confirms the small splotches on her dress to be paint; her fingers too are smeared with it.

“You came.”

His voice is as surprised as the look on his face.

She offers a tentative smile. “You called.”

Perhaps the irony of the words is lost on the King of Dreams because a moment later, he is shaking his head. “I apologise. You should never feel obliged to come to me at my calling. I also seem to have taken you from your task.”

Dream gestures to her paint-splattered dress and colour stained hand.

Calliope takes a step towards him, closing the distance between them until she is close enough to reach out and touch him, if she wants to.

“I didn’t feel obliged; I never have. But I will not deny that it surprised me. I had come to the conclusion that perhaps you had deliberately forgotten how to call me.”

A frown mars his forehead. “I could never.” The Dream lord sounds offended that she would even think of something like this.

Calliope flashes a smile at him then, the look on his face reminding her of some of their endearing moments from a time long gone. The unfamiliar tug on his lips tells him he is smiling back at her.

“You look well, Oneiros.”

She has started walking towards the nearby market and spellbound, Dream of the Endless finds himself falling in step with her.

“I am sure you’ve seen me better. You look stunning.” The compliment slips out. He isn’t bothered by it though because another smile makes its way to her face and he is suddenly reminded of how much he loved to make her smile or laugh or give him any of her unguarded reactions. It encourages him to keep talking.

“Paint?”

“I am trying out a few hobbies and was in the middle of painting a sunset in Miami, actually.”

“I am sorry to have taken you away.”

“Don’t be.”

Dream doesn’t respond to that. It is quite peaceful, almost like the old times they had taken walks among the flora of the Dreaming.

Calliope knows her ex-husband is looking around for words. He is walking with his hands in his pocket, a sure sign there is something he wants to say but is working up to it. While he is doing that, she decides to fill in the silence

“I wish I could show you my paintings. I have improved so much over the years.”

That’s what it takes, it seems because he suddenly stops, halting her steps too, and turns around to look at her; his eyes fathomless pools of darkness as they settle on her face.

“I would love it if you would visit The Dreaming. I was wrong in stopping you, I apologise. You shouldn’t be stopped from visiting a place you have memories of, perhaps even fond ones.”

She finds it hard to believe the words reaching her ears but the sincerity in his words can’t be ignored. There is also the fact that her ex-husband has never lied to her. Even at the expense of being cruel, he had always given her the cold, hard facts.

“That is the third time you have apologized to me in the last fifteen minutes. Are you well, Oneiros?”

Calliope tries and fails to bring a smile on her lips as she talks; the smile is lost somewhere between the pain and the tragedy that was them and what once used to be their family.

In turn, Dream merely stares at her, wanting nothing more than to take her hand in his and fall to her feet in an ocean of tears. He won’t do it though. He had hurt her enough. He had broken her heart and then trampled all over it and there are wounds that shouldn’t be opened. There is nothing there to encourage touch, no matter how badly he wants to just feel her warmth against his cold palms.

There are small mercies though in this world for beings like him it seems, because Calliope, with all the tentativeness of a deer in an unfamiliar surrounding, slowly slips her small hand into his. His eyes close on their own, the familiar touch bringing back a horde of memories he has desperately tried to keep buried. It is not easy, but he pushes them back behind the door they’re trying to claw out of, pulling it shut firmly before lifting his chin and meeting her eyes. Her hand in his provides just the kind of warm courage he needs.

“Calliope,” he whispers her name quietly, his fingers closing around hers slightly. “Forgive me, I disregarded your feelings as a mother and as a wife. I had absolutely no right back then and I have no right whatsoever now either to request you to return to a place where you had been hurt beyond imagination. When you asked me earlier, I said no, not considering your feelings once again. So I would understand if you do not want to come back.”

There is a thin sheen of moisture in her ex-husband’s eyes but he never breaks eye contact even as his voice wavers. Calliope has seen him be happy, angry, sad and every other emotion known to mortals over the eons, but this was something new, something she had never witnessed.

“Dream...,” she whispers softly. He looks away then but his fingers tighten around her hand. “We did not part on the best of terms. There was... there is a lot of hurt and pain between us but you were not the sole perpetuator. I am guilty as well. I did the most horrible thing I could do to inflict upon you just an ounce of what I was feeling. I paid dearly for that later when thoughts of how you didn’t care invaded me.”

The King of Dreams is shaking his head before she can even finish. “You leaving broke my heart, Calliope, even though I’m aware I deserved it.”

His voice is laced with devastation, pain and something that sounds too much like guilt. Guilt, that has made a home in her, waiting behind that one door she had closed in her mind. That one feeling that had destroyed them alongwith resentment. A love of a lifetime drifting away painfully in hatred filled words and spiteful actions.

Healing begins only when you accept the wound and realise that there will be pain attached to it. This, this is their moment where it could either go back to what it was or move forward, somewhere unknown but with a faint light at the end of it. Calliope decides she wants to move towards the light. “You didn’t deserve it, Oneiros. Do no try to absolve me of the atrocities I did to you. I just wish we could have talked. Perhaps we could’ve saved us.”

“I have been running from this, but no more. It is too late and too little, I’m aware but I am ready to talk now.” Dream’s response is quick in a steady tone that leaves no room for guessing that he was finally ready. Ready to talk about their beloved son, their family and everything they had lost in those fateful days when everything that could, had gone wrong. It brings a fresh batch of tears to her eyes and she blinks them back to find Dream doing the same just as he uses his free hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a small pouch.

He opens his fist and Calliope immediately knows what is resting in his outstretched palm, a wave of intense pain overwhelming her at the sight. Dream doesn’t close his fist around the seeds of Orpheus flowers but his other hand squeezes hers twice, a gesture of reassurance she had used on him eons ago during those high-tensioned Endless Family dinners she had attended.

He remembers; in the enveloping pain, the comforting thought darts through her. She squeezes back a minute later, just twice, just like she always had. She couldn’t know it but the gesture is reassuring to him, a warm pressure on his chest that this was right. Dream lets her stare at the packet of seeds in his hands until she raises her head and meets his eyes, a steely glint in her eyes.

“I would like for us to plant these in our meadow.”

Ever so slowly, Calliope covers his outstretched hand with hers, her nimble fingers trembling against the packet of seeds. “In memory, in love and all that once was, Oneiros.”

Her tears make it blurry but there is a slight tug at the corner of his lips, not a smile but a ghost of it and it is enough to warm her heart.

The first step will be the hardest but they will do it together, it was time. She walks with him down the road, their hands clasped together, as the winter sun sets behind them in an array of golden-pink glow.

-x-

There. Done. Apologies for mistakes, people! Whoever stayed till then, hope I didn't waste your time!

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #dream #tom sturridge #calliope x dream #dream x calliope #morpheus x calliope #dream of the endless x calliope #dreamuse #is that the ship name?#the sandman calliope #calliope #netflix the sandman #the sandman fic

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