#so at least id see him at some point every day

[infectiouspotato]

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[purpurussy]

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[bkglovergirl]

Hi there! So I was wondering if you could make a fic about bakugou x reader, where she and bakugou were childhood friends similar to him and deku, but the reader has been obvious about her crush on him, always complimenting him, telling him she likes him, even going to UA with him.

He would always straight up rejects her but lowkey likes her, (moving forward to kats arc where hes being a better person lol) the reader still makes him bentos from time to time, always follows him but it doesn't seem to 'irritate' him as much (hes just so happy with her always taking his side), patching him up ect. you get the picture

that is until a girl from class B started taking a liking to bakugou as well and theres a senario where reader gets the wrong idea and think that they're dating class B bitch who always tries to get on her nerves, but in reality bakugou straight up rejects her

reader changing bla bla bla, bakugou being like "WHYD YOU STOP BABYING ME STUPID ASS??!"

readers like "wtf?" bakugous like, "if you we have a problem talk to me, im your bf after all"

sorry if its long. i had a wonderful dream id like to relive ❤️

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bakugou X Reader

Childhood friends to lovers

I love the miscommunication trope, the ending is a little bit different.

Word Count: 2.3k

ೃ⁀➷

Ever since you could remember and much to Bakugou’s dismay you, Deku, and him have been childhood best friends. One thing is very well known between the trio. You have the biggest crush on Katsuki Bakugou. You make sure it’s known. The first time you realized you liked him, you told him almost right away. You both were around the age of seven and were at a playground fooling around. Neither of you guys had gotten your quirks and you “trained” at this particular playground every day whenever you could. You were running chasing the “villain” Deku around and around. Both your faces had dirt covered and you knew with how your clothes looked your mom was gonna be upset at you but who cares? You didn't.

“I’m gonna get you!”

“Nuh-uh!” Deku runs behind the slide and you follow after. 

“Boo! Huh?” He had disappeared, quickly you looked around and saw him running up onto the base of the playhouse and into one of the small tunnels that connect the two. You run after. Not paying attention you miss one of the steps on the stairs and fall. Bakugou close behind went to go catch you and it was right then and there his quirk manifested and burned your arm as he grabbed you. “Ow! Ow!” You whined looking up at Bakugou. 

“Are you okay?!” Deku comes running back down towards you both and you are slightly dazed so Bakugou asks again, “Are you okay!”

“Your quirk! Bakugou your quirk!!” 

“I KNOW STUPID BUT ARE YOU OKAY?” You and Deku both give each other a look before looking at Bakugou. 

“Yes, I’m okay!” you lied. “Bakugou, your quirk!” He smiled, and it was almost like you watched his ego form right then and there. 

‘Hell yeah, I got my quirk before you two!' He turns and puts his arm out away from you guys and gives a small blast. “Look how cool it is!” After some of the excitement dies down, you manage to beg Bakugou to give you a piggyback as he walks you home after you both drop off Deku. “I don’t see the point in this.” He adjusts you on his back a bit to make it more comfortable for himself.

“Think of this as payback.” You giggle as you hear him groan. “Hey Bakugou?”

“What.”

“I like you.”

ೃ⁀➷

Years later you guys got into UA together and lucky for you and Izuku, in the same classroom as well. Confessing to Katsuki happens at least every other week, and him rejecting you happens every time. You both have gotten into a schedule. You’d walk to school and on certain days bring him a Bento box. You’d go to class and try and do everything with him if Mr Aizawa allows it. At the end of the day, Katsuki always walks you to your dorm before walking to his. 

You knock on Katsuki's door and hear some grumbling before he answers the door, “Why can’t I get you at your dorm? Why do you always come to mine?” You shrug and hand him the Bento box you made him. “You gotta stop making these.”

“You say that, but you love it!” he rolls his eyes and takes it out of your hands. You both start walking to class together. “So I was thinking you and I could pair up because I heard Izuku and Todoroki are gonna pair up.” 

“Why do you always wanna pair up together.” “To save you from the embarrassment of not getting picked.”

“I would get picked!”

“Absolutely not.” You go to open the door to the classroom but Katsuki quickly opens it for you, you smile and walk in. 

You follow him to lunch and sit next to him. He grumbles his small complaint but quickly eats the food he complained about. He never says thank you or compliments the food, but you know he appreciates it by how empty he leaves the bento once he’s done. “It’s cold.”

“Stop complaining, maybe you should have brought your jacket.”

“Alright asshole my fault I forgot it!” The bickering goes back a forth a bit before you stand up, “Walk without me I need to talk to Denki about something.”

“Whatever.”

ೃ⁀➷

You switch the song on your phone before putting it in your skirt pocket and walk to class. You smile seeing Katsuki ahead of you and run to catch up but stop quickly. Katsuki is handing a girl his jacket and she’s smiling at him. Your heart sinks and you feel nauseous as you watch him open the door for the girl. You look at his face. ‘Is he blushing?!’ you bite the inside of your cheek and walk into the classroom. You hear Katsuki call after you but you ignore him. The small banter between you two is non-existent and the whole class quickly takes notice because you are uncomfortably quiet. The notes Katsuki passes to you go unread and you push them off your desk. Katsuki is panicking in his head, he is going through every single thing he’s done today and he can’t think of anything he has done wrong. You were fine at lunch and if anything happened you wouldn't ignore him, if anything you'd whine and complain to him about it. To Katsuki’s surprise, he’s really annoyed you aren't complaining to him. The bell rings and you quickly stuff your bag with all your things and speed walk to the door. “Hi is Katsu there?!” of course, you would run into her and Katsu?! Who the fuck does she think she is? Everyone is staring at the two of you, you step to the side to let the girl in and she runs up to Katsuki. “Katsu!” Your classmate's eyes follow the girl and look at you thinking the same exact thing you are. You shrug and walk out.

ೃ⁀➷

The next morning you walk to the classroom by yourself. Denki and Izuku come to check on you but you wave them off saying you are okay. Before they both walk away you quickly ask Denki to be partners in training. He gives a look to Izuku before agreeing. Katsuki walks in minutes later, late. He tries to talk to you but Aizawa tells him to get into his seat and he obeys. 

Training starts a couple of hours later, and just like you guessed, no one wants to partner with Katsuki. He watched as you walked over to Denki when Aizawa announced that you all should grab partners. He’s crushed but shakes it off. His pride stops him from walking up to you. Kirishima takes one for the team and partners up with Katsuki. The training goes well, and surprisingly, you and Denki are a great team.

“I think we should be a team more often, Y/N!” You smile, agreeing with him. The next set of teams that are put against each other are You and Denki vs. Kirishima and Katsuki. During the whole fucking battle you manage to avoid Katsuki, you don’t know how you manage to pull that off and neither does he because he tried so hard to come after you specifically. By the end of the battle you and Denki come out victorious and Katsuki is pissed. Katsuki rips off his gauntlet looking at you and Denki walking off together and talking.

“Denki I-”

“Kaminari.” he corrects.

“Kaminari.” You smile. “I just don’t get it. Who the fuck is that girl?! Where did she come from? I’m with Katsuki so much how did I not notice there was another girl.”

“Doesn't he reject you all the time?”

“A part of me doesn't like it’s a rejection. He likes the things I do for him, but his rejection seems like a wait, not a no.” you put your hands up to your face, “I’ve liked him since we were little. The memory of me first liking him is imprinted into my body! How do you just get over that? How do you get over Katsuki Bakugou.” Kaminari puts his hand out to stop you from walking into a wall. You look at him and his face is looking at you with confusion.

“What do you mean by imprinted?” You roll up your sleeve and show him the big scar that was left on your body. 

“This happened when his quirk first manifested. It was by accident and instead of celebrating his quirk he made sure I was okay first.”

“That doesn't sound like Bakugou.”

“I KNOW!” You rest your back against the wall, and Kaminari leans against it facing you. You don’t know how long you talked, but at some point, the talking turned into scheming. Katsuki comes walking up and the girl is right next to him talking away and honestly, he’s annoyed. It takes everything in him not to scream in her face. He sees you first. Then he sees Kaminari leaning against the wall next to you. At the same time, you see him first. Then the girl walking next to him. He takes note that he’s changed and cleaned up after training, you guys aren't even changed out of your hero outfits and are still all messy. The training ended an hour ago. He stops walking which the girl next to him takes as a green light to wrap her arms around his arm. Kaminari notices and quickly stands in front of you to block your line of view.

“Don’t look it’s only gonna hurt more.”

“Come to my dorm.”

“What?”

“Come to my dorm right now.” You grab his arm and drag him away aggressively. Kaminari has to stop himself from complaining your grip hurts.

ೃ⁀➷

Katsuki got up early enough to get to your dorm room. He knows this is the time you leave, he knows your exact schedule to the T. He knows your whole life and who you're close with so he’s honestly so fucking confused why you walk out of your dorm room and run up to Denki fucking Kaminari. On top of that, you hand him a bento box. His fucking Bento box. He’s stunned and stands there like a dumb ass watching as you walk away with him.

Class is giving him a headache. He just feels the need to take as many pain pills as he can. You and Denki have been joking around non-stop and it doesn't help that you sit in front of Katsuki and Denki sits in front of you. The class feels like forever. There is no training today so it is just class and he doesn't know how long he can just sit here and watch as you painfully ignore him. He concludes he’ll talk to you before lunch but that plan is quickly foiled as the girl from class 1B comes barging into the classroom like she owns the place and attaches herself to him. Katsuki watches as you stare a second before Kaminari puts an arm around your shoulder and walks you out of the room as quickly as he can. He makes a new plan that he’ll talk to you at lunch but that plan is also quickly ruined as the girl blocks him at his table so he can’t get up and go to you. So as your plan goes perfectly, he gets a perfect view of you and Kaminari sitting and having lunch together. He then makes plan number three, he’ll follow you around until he gets the perfect moment to yell at you. It’s perfect. He follows you to class with the annoying girl talking away. He sits in pain the whole rest of class as he watches you and Kaminari fool around the whole time.

ೃ⁀➷

“Why are you following me around.” You turn to look at him. You landed at your childhood park once you realized Katsuki was following you around. It’s cold and you hug yourself.

“So she speaks.”

“Don’t be an ass Bakugou. Why are you following me?” Katsuki’s stomach sinks. At least he knows how you feel now.

“Bakugou?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me?”

‘Don’t act fucking stupid.” He takes off his jacket and gets closer to you, You take a step back. “See what I mean?! I’m trying to give you my jacket and you step away from me! What the fuck Y/N!”

“Sorry, I don’t want what another girl got.”

“What are you- oh…”

“Yeah oh! Kaminari told me I wasn't being stupid but maybe I am! Maybe I should have stopped liking you when you rejected me the first time! BUT NO!” you get closer grabbing his shirt, “You make it so fucking difficult to not be in love with you!” He stares at you and leans down, as much as you don’t want to, you push him away. “No this had gotta stop. I’m not gonna let you keep toying with me and I gotta stop being so delusional.”

“You aren't being delusional.”

“Really because that girl has gotten more attention than I have gotten from you in years. Every time I confess since we were kids you act like I didn't say anything!”

“I just wasn't ready for things to change.” you scoff at him.

“It was always going to change! Did you like dragging me along? Where did that other girl come from?” you sit down on one of the swings and kick some wood chips. Putting your hands on the chain.

“I just wanted to make sure I liked you and I wasn't just… I don't fucking know! You're the only girl who has been in my life that wasn't my mom!” you glare at him.

“Wow.”

“Listen Y/N, I know it was stupid but I just needed to know before our relationship changed and I fucked everything up.” “So what was this conclusion from your stupid fucking experiment?” Katsuki takes this as a green light to come closer to you. You don’t say anything.

“That no girl compares.”

“Wow, Romeo it took you that long?” Katsuki stands in front of you and puts his hand on top of yours. You look up at him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m not confessing again.”

“I know.” He leans down and kisses you. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 5

A smile from you is all he needs to feel recharged.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst , emotional kook, suggestive messages, poor Maria pt.1 [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

This is not going to plan at all.

Not only is he behind schedule wise, he's also not thought about the possibility of what this all might look like to you at all. Because why would you even think that in the first place? He'd be absolutely stupid to cheat on you, let alone with a 64 year old married woman of all people!

But then again, you don't know that part- and he also can't really properly explain it as he would surely blow his own cover, and he's just too close to the finish line to give up now. He already almost cried at deleting your face ID and fingerprint from his phone, feeling like he deleted the memory of setting those things up too, but he swore himself it's for a good cause down the line. You'll make so many more memories together for sure, and they'll top those more than by just a little. He'll make sure that they will.

[Alright, I'm so excited! Next time let's do it this way right from the start- no need to make it so complicated!] Maria had wrote him in full, and he reads over it with a bit of worry. Does she really understand what he meant by his worries?

[I'm not sure you understand. I'm planning something big, and I'm also behind when it comes to physical intimacy these days, you know?] He writes the woman, who he's asked prior about the rules and such regarding.. well, sex in the home he's renting out for the upcoming special occasion he's planned. He doesn't want to get locked up for not following some Airbnb laws he overlooked after all. That would just be embarrassing. [And we're very intimate people. I'm taking her pleasure and happiness seriously, if you get the hint.] He texts her as he boils some water on the stove for his absolute accurately made ramyeon.

[Oh trust me, I've been young too! No need to be shy, I can only imagine that emotions will run high most likely!] She responds, and Jungkook pursed his lips for a second, before he starts to play with his piercings deep in thought.

[No, Maria, I don't think you get it-] he begins to type. [-it's been almost two full weeks at this point, that's the longest we've ever gone without any sex, we're talking at least three orgasms a day times fourteen, I've got some major catching up to do..] jungkook sends her, before he puts his phone down for a second as to prepare the instant noodles properly.

[It's fine, really. No need to worry!] The woman responds. But jungkook wants to make sure.

[She's a squirter- you know what that is right? Either way it's gonna get messy so I'm just making sure you REALLY know what you're getting into if you say it's alright because the carpet looked really nice and I'm not sure how to get cum stains out of that] he rambles, not noticing you emerge from the bedroom now as you put your bag on one of the kitchen chairs. [I can replace it too if that happens no problem, you know how my girlfriend gets haha. Well you don't but you will know after we're done with the place-] he taps and accidentally sends out as you call his name, causing him to almost drop his phone into the soup pot on the stove, only barely catching it in time before he can practically throw it into the pocket of his sweatpants. "Yeah?" He asks towards you, and you look at him still way too hostile in his opinion.

He knows you can be a bit of a hot head. It's what he loves about you- how fierce you can get and how you'll always stand your ground. But he also knows that you're a bit of an aklebiter with some serious anger issues sometimes- once you see red, you don't see anything else anymore. So he's got to be careful not to fuck it up any further, because once he loses you, he loses for good.

Because you're stubborn if you've made up your mind.

"The water's boiling over." You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you sit at the kitchen table, arms crossed in defense. He jumps at your words and turns off the stove at that, somewhat awkwardly playing up some food into bowl for the both of you, watching you eat silently across from him with an almost needy gaze.

You're gonna probably try and kick his balls if he asks you to sit on his lap right now, so he swallows down the request to keep them intact.

He's gonna seriously crunch some hours while you're sleeping over at a friend's house so he can still make the deadline, able to pass up on sleep with you not actually home to scold him for it. He hates the fact that the app on his phone constantly reminds him of the lack of intimacy between you two- taunting him with notifications about his streak being broken, his record being topped, his spot up top on the scoreboard being taken. He hates it. He created this app, he should be the one who's best at it too!

God he can't wait to get his hands on you again. He feels like his dick is going to fall off in the next few days.

And it's not just that, either. He doesn't sleep well when you're not with him, he misses all the interactions you usually have during the day, the love, the intimacy of just being close, he misses it so bad. And he kind of doesn't want you to leave right now- he'd love to just call it quits and just cave in, but he's come too far now, and you're also a strong independent woman. You deserve to choose where you want to go or stay, he's got no say in that- or at least he shouldn't try to have it.

"I.. You'll text me when you wanna come back home, right?" He asks as he finishes his bowl, and you shrug.

"Whatever." You mumble. "S' not like you want me home for more than the chores anyways." You huff into your food, and he can't help but feel his eyes tear up. No, stupid Jungkook, don't fucking cry right now. You're gonna ruin it all with your dumb tears and weak heart just like always-

"I do want you home.." he mumbles quietly, blinking harder to avoid you spotting anything off- but you notice. Of course you do.

"...I'll text you." You say, and that at least soothes his mind for the moment as his phone falls out of his pocket, screen cracking and making him cringe.

Fuck. That's the what.. 20th time this year?

But it's all worth it, if it means he can at least see the hint of a smile pull at your lips for once.

The sight alone motivation enough to make him work even harder now.

[wannabehockeygf]

calgary - matthew tkachuk

part of the think later fic series

“I’m drunk, oh wow,

All my habits came back around.”

***

this has two parts!

part 2

***

request: “could you do calgary with matty tkachuk?? maybe something fluffy, and him being overprotective?”

summary: an attempt to relive your highschool glory days turns into a night of drunken confessions.

word count: 7k

pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, unnamed pills

notes:

- ty for requesting! fun to write! keep ‘em coming <3

- ^ you guys already knew your girl had to go all out for her hometown, because calgary natives fuck it up the best!

- the plot is basically the lyrics of the song

- some friends to lovers because it makes me feel so lonely and I have to make y’all suffer too

- not super proof read

***

At some point in every Calgary native’s life, those wild, reckless nights of stumbling down Stephen Avenue after too many shots morph into something that feels suspiciously like maturity—like finding yourself sipping ritzy, overpriced cocktails on Seventeenth at six-something pm, wondering when your life turned into a scene from a yuppie rom-com.

The moment you realized this was your new reality, you spiraled. The “Oh my god, I’m so old, I can’t have fun anymore” pit of despair opened up beneath you, and you were falling fast. You had your shit together—no, scratch that, you have your shit together. You’re a bona fide adult. But still, you can’t help but yearn for the glory days of sneaking into clubs with a fake ID at fifteen, batting your lashes at some guy named Jason in a cowboy hat just to get him to buy you a drink.

But then, just as you’re about to spiral further, you remember tonight’s mission. Matthew, one of your closest friends, is back in town. The guy is practically a legend in your life—a hockey player sent off to South Florida but always makes his way back to Calgary for Stampede. You met him in the most random way—some Tinder date with a different Flames prospect gone awry. Who could have guessed that a failed date would lead to one of the most solid friendships of your life?

Matthew is that rare breed of guy—fun, charming, and completely non-threatening in the “someone’s gonna catch feelings” department. At least, that’s what you’ve always told yourself. But let’s be honest, there’s something about him that’s always felt…different. You’ve sworn up and down that, it’s not you, that you’re just friends, but there’s always that little nagging thought in the back of your mind. Could there be more? Should there be more?

Nah, you shake it off. Tonight isn’t about overthinking. Tonight is about channeling your inner fifteen-year-old, if only for a few hours. You’re on a mission to relive the glory days, and Matthew—well, he’s the perfect partner in crime.

The pulsating bass of the club thunders through your veins, the kind of beat that makes your heart race and your feet move, even if you didn’t want them to. But you do. Oh, do you ever. You’re dancing like you’re possessed, limbs flailing in a way that’s somewhere between “I just got electrocuted” and “I’ve been training for this moment my entire life.” You’re definitely more of a mosh pit person than a rhythmic dancer, but tonight, it’s all about the vibe, not the technique.

The lights are flashing wildly, casting everyone in an array of colors—red, blue, green, pink. It feels like you’re inside a kaleidoscope, everything spinning and twirling and making your head buzz in the most exhilarating way. The crowd is a sweaty mess of bodies, a hotbed of random hookups and questionable dance moves, but you’re right there in the middle of it, soaking it all in like the club’s ambiance is your life source.

“Another one?” someone yells over the music, thrusting a shot glass in your face. You don’t even see who it is, but hey, free alcohol is free alcohol. You down it in one go, the burn of the tequila (or is it vodka? Who even knows at this point) sliding down your throat and settling warmly in your belly.

You’re officially shitfaced. You can’t even remember how many shots you’ve had, but counting stopped being a priority after the third one. Or maybe it was the fourth. Whatever. You’re having fun—so much fun that you’ve completely lost track of time. How long have you been here? Is it still tonight? Did you miss Matthew’s arrival?

No, you tell yourself. There’s no way you could miss him. Matthew Tkachuk is not the kind of person who goes unnoticed, even in a crowded club like this. He’s the kind of guy who walks into a room and makes heads turn, who laughs so loudly you can hear him over any DJ set. You’d know if he was here.

Still, a small part of your brain—a part that isn’t totally soaked in alcohol—reminds you of tonight’s mission. You try to channel your inner teenager, that reckless, carefree girl who did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And right now, what you want is to dance. And maybe make out with someone. Or eat a greasy cheeseburger. The list is long, okay?

It’s in this haze of euphoria that you notice him—a man with a slicked-back ponytail that’s trying too hard to be edgy but just comes off as greasy. He slides up next to you, his cologne almost as overpowering as his confidence. You give him a half-hearted smile, not really paying attention, too busy reveling in your own carefree abandon.

“Hey,” he shouts over the music, leaning in too close, his breath warm against your ear. “You want something to really get the night going?”

You blink, trying to focus on his words through the fog of alcohol. His hand is outstretched, palm up, and there, sitting innocuously in the center, are two little pills. Your mind stumbles, trying to catch up with the situation. Pills? Like, drugs? The room seems to tilt slightly, the strobe lights throwing everything into sharp, disorienting relief.

The room seems to spin faster as you stare down at the tiny pills in the man's hand. They look so innocent, like candy, but you know better. Your brain, soaked in alcohol and barely clinging to reality, tries to do the math. Pills equal bad. Very bad. But you're also floating on a cloud of recklessness, and there's a small voice in your head whispering that maybe, just maybe, these little white ovals could make the night even crazier.

You can't quite decide if that's what you want or if you're just drunk enough to think it's what you want. Your vision blurs, the man’s face morphing into a smudge of colors and cologne. He leans in closer, his greasy ponytail brushing your cheek like a wet mop. “Come on,” he urges, his voice slicing through the booming bass, “just one, for old time’s sake.”

Old times? You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen this guy in your life. But then again, you’re also pretty sure you saw a unicorn prancing through the dance floor five minutes ago, so who knows what’s real at this point?

Just as you're about to reach for the pills—because why not?—you feel a hand grip your arm, firm and unmistakable. You whirl around, nearly losing your balance, and there he is: Matthew Tkachuk, your knight in a tight-fitting black tee that clings to his shoulders like a second skin. Even in your drunken haze, you can tell he’s pissed. Like, really pissed.

You’d seen him mad before, like that time when someone cut him off on the Deerfoot trail and he laid on the horn for so long that you thought it would get stuck that way—or, that one time when a ref made a call that had him throwing his helmet at the glass, shattering it. This feels so different, especially since he just got here.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Matthew’s voice is like a thunderclap over the music, his eyes narrowing at the greasy-haired guy who suddenly looks a lot less confident. There’s something about Matthew when he’s angry—a fierce, protective energy that’s as magnetic as it is intimidating. He’s not the tallest guy in the room, but he doesn’t need to be. He’s Matthew Tkachuk, for god’s sake.

You blink, trying to process the scene. This isn’t the carefree, dancing-like-you’re-on-fire vibe you were going for. This is… something else entirely. The man with the pills tries to pull a sneer, but it’s more of a grimace. “Hey, man, just offering her a good time,” he slurs, attempting to puff up his chest in a way that’s more pathetic than threatening.

Matthew’s grip on your arm tightens, and you can feel the tension radiating off him like a furnace. “Yeah, well, she’s not interested,” he snaps, stepping between you and the guy, effectively cutting off your view of the man’s greasy face.

And for a moment, you’re glad. You’re glad Matthew’s here, glad he’s taking charge, glad he’s keeping you from making a possibly life-altering mistake. But then, that little rebellious streak in you flares up. Who is he to tell you what to do? You’re a grown-ass woman, a bona fide adult, remember? You don’t need a babysitter.

You yank your arm out of Matthew’s grasp, wobbling slightly as you do so. “I can handle myself,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. It sounds stronger in your head, but the words come out slurred and weak. Matthew’s eyes flicker with something—concern, frustration, maybe a mix of both.

“Yeah, it sure looks like it,” he says dryly, and even in your intoxicated state, you can catch the sarcasm. You want to snap back, say something witty and sharp, but your brain is moving in slow motion, and the words get tangled in your throat.

The greasy-haired guy takes a step back, clearly not wanting to get into it with Matthew. “Whatever, man. Just trying to help,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Who even are you, anyway?”

Matthew steps forward, blocking your view of Ponytail Guy entirely. The energy in the air shifts from fun and carefree to something sharp and heavy. The club’s lights seem harsher now, flashing in sync with the tension bubbling between them. Matthew is all broad shoulders and clenched fists, the muscles in his neck taut like he’s seconds away from doing something reckless.

And as for you? You’re swaying slightly, blinking like you’re trying to remember where you are—or maybe why you’re here in the first place. The tequila haze is doing you no favors, and all you can focus on is how intensely Matthew is glaring at Ponytail Guy. It’s like watching a lion size up a gazelle, except you’re the one caught in the crossfire.

“Who am I?” Matthew’s voice drops, low and dangerous, a tone you’ve only ever heard him use when talking about losing a game he should’ve won. “I’m the guy who’s about to ruin your night if you don’t get the hell away from her.”

Oh, god. Oh, no. You can already feel this heading toward disaster, but your reaction time is slower than usual. The alcohol has turned your brain into mush, and you’re having a hard time deciding whether you’re more turned on by Matthew’s sudden intensity or mortified by the scene unfolding in front of you.

Ponytail Guy, to his credit (or lack thereof), doesn’t back down. “Relax, man,” he sneers, taking a step forward like he’s trying to prove something. “She’s not your property.”

It’s a bold move, considering the sheer size difference between him and Matthew. And judging by the dark look in Matthew’s eyes, you’re not sure this is going to end well for Mr. Ponytail.

You should probably intervene. You should definitely say something, do something to diffuse the tension before Matthew decks this guy in the middle of the club. But you’re still trying to figure out why the room keeps spinning, and why your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor.

“I’m not anyone’s property,” you slur, finally finding your voice. It’s not as commanding as you intended—it’s more of a drunken mumble, but hey, you’re trying. Matthew glances back at you, his expression softening for a split second before snapping back to hardened fury as he turns toward the guy again.

The guy doesn’t seem to take the hint. “She said she can handle herself,” he repeats, puffing out his chest like some budget version of an alpha male. “Why don’t you back off?”

There’s a pause, and for a split second, you think maybe—just maybe—Matthew’s going to back down, let it go, and this whole thing will blow over without anyone throwing hands.

But then, Matthew steps forward, closing the gap between him and the guy with a terrifying calm. “Listen carefully,” he says, his voice so low you can barely hear it over the pulsing music. “If you don’t walk away in the next five seconds, I’m going to make sure you regret ever coming here.”

Okay. Yep. This is escalating.

Your drunken mind is slow to react, but you know one thing for sure—this is not going to end well if it keeps going. You need to say something, anything to stop this from turning into a full-blown fight in the middle of the club.

“Matty, come on,” you say, stumbling a little as you step forward, reaching out to grab his arm. Your fingers barely graze his sleeve before you lose your balance and fall right into him. Smooth. So smooth. “Let’s just—let’s just go get a drink or… or something.”

Matthew catches you with ease, his hand steady on your waist as he looks down at you. “You’re drunk,” he mutters, his voice softer now. “You don’t need more drinks.”

You blink up at him, trying to focus on his face, but everything’s a little fuzzy. He’s so close—close enough that you can smell his cologne, a mix of something woodsy and clean, like he just stepped out of a forest after a fresh rain. God, why does he always smell so good?

“I’m not that drunk,” you protest weakly, even though you totally are. The tequila haze is thick, clouding your judgment, and you’re still thinking about those little pills in Ponytail Guy’s hand. It would be so easy to take one. Just one. You’d feel amazing, right? Invincible, even.

But Matthew’s grip tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. “Let’s get out of here,” he says firmly, his eyes flicking back toward Ponytail Guy, who’s still lingering like a bad smell. “Before I do something stupid.”

Ponytail Guy seems to get the message this time. He mutters something under his breath—something about how you’re not worth the trouble—and slinks off into the crowd, disappearing in a sea of bodies and strobe lights.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The room still feels like it’s spinning, and your head is buzzing, but you’re suddenly grateful that Matthew’s here. Even if he’s being overprotective, even if you’re still mad that he’s acting like your personal bodyguard.

Matthew keeps his arm around your waist as he leads you out of the club, guiding you through the sweaty, writhing crowd. The cool night air hits you like a splash of cold water when you step outside, and you sway slightly, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you. The bass from the club still thrums in your chest, an echo of the chaos inside, but out here, the world feels quieter, slower.

“Okay, you’re definitely done for the night,” Matthew mutters, more to himself than to you, as he helps you toward a bench near the entrance. You plop down, the wooden slats cool against the backs of your legs. Your head tilts back, and you look up at the sky, where the city lights drown out most of the stars. The world is spinning, a slow, lazy carousel, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

Matthew kneels in front of you, his hands firm on your knees as he tries to get your attention. “Hey,” he says softly, and even in your drunken haze, you can feel the concern radiating off him. “You okay?”

You open your eyes and blink down at him, the edges of his face blurring slightly as you struggle to focus. He looks so serious, so worried, and it tugs at something deep inside you. You don’t want him to worry. Matthew’s supposed to be your fun, carefree partner in crime, not your babysitter.

“I’m fine,” you slur, trying to wave him off, but your hand misses the mark and flops uselessly against his shoulder. “Just… spinning. Everything’s spinning.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he replies dryly, his brow furrowing as he studies you. “Let’s get you home.”

Home. The word sounds nice, comforting, but also distant. Like it’s miles away instead of just a short walk. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Matthew’s chest, and he stiffens for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you steady.

His heartbeat is strong and steady against your ear, a comforting rhythm that contrasts with the chaotic whirl in your head. He smells so good, like fresh pine and clean linen, and you take a deep breath, trying to anchor yourself to him, to the solidness of his presence.

“You’re so nice, Matty,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Like, really nice. And hot. Why are you so hot?”

You feel his chest rumble with a quiet laugh, but there’s a tension in the way he holds you, like he’s trying to keep his composure. “You’re drunk,” he says gently, one hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Let’s focus on getting you home, okay?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes wide and earnest. “No, seriously. You’re like… you’re like a hot lumberjack or something. All rugged and… and strong.”

Matthew’s lips twitch into a smile, but his eyes are still filled with that soft concern. “I think you’re mixing me up with someone else. I’m not that rugged.”

“You are,” you insist, your fingers fumbling to grip his shirt. The fabric is soft under your fingertips, and you run your hand down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath. “You’re… you’re like… if a grizzly bear was also a teddy bear.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “That makes no sense.”

“It does,” you argue, though your voice is thick and sluggish. “’Cause you’re big and strong, but also… also soft and warm. Like, I just wanna hug you forever.”

You press yourself closer to him, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His skin is warm, and you can feel the faint prickle of stubble against your cheek. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you sigh contentedly, your body relaxing into him.

“Come on,” Matthew says, his voice a little strained now as he tries to coax you to your feet. “Let’s get you home.”

But you don’t want to move. You’re too comfortable here, wrapped up in his scent, his warmth. It’s like being swaddled in a blanket made of pure safety and affection. Why would you want to leave that?

“Nooo,” you whine, your arms tightening around his neck. “Wanna stay here. With you.”

Matthew sighs, though there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “You can stay with me, but let’s at least get you up.”

He stands, pulling you up with him, and you stagger slightly, your legs unsteady. He keeps a firm grip on you, one arm around your waist as he starts guiding you down the street. The city is a blur of neon lights and passing cars, and you lean heavily into him, your head lolling against his shoulder.

“Okay, but do you know how hot you are?” you ask, your voice soft and dreamy. “Like, I’m pretty sure you’re the hottest guy in Calgary. And Miami, or… wherever it is you’re playing now.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, though there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck. “And talking nonsense.”

“I’m not,” you insist, pouting up at him. “You’re so sexy. And nice. And I bet you’re really good at kissing.”

Matthew clears his throat, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Why not?” you press, your eyes half-lidded as you gaze up at him. “’Cause I bet you’re amazing at it. Like… like you know exactly what to do with your hands and your tongue and…” Your voice trails off into a giggle as you try to imagine it, but your thoughts are too jumbled to form a clear picture.

Matthew doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he focuses on getting you down the street. You don’t notice the tension in his shoulders, too lost in your drunken haze to pick up on the way he’s fighting to keep his composure. All you can think about is how close he is, how solid and warm he feels next to you.

Matthew unlocks the door to your apartment with one hand, the other still holding you steady against his side. The hallway is dim, the faint hum of the city outside seeping through the walls, and the familiar smell of your home—clean linen and a hint of vanilla—greets you as you step inside. But you’re too lost in the comforting haze of alcohol and the warmth of Matthew’s body to notice much else.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you mumble, your words slurring together as you nuzzle closer to his neck. “Like, really amazing. And hot. So, so fucking hot.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he guides you through the living room and toward your bedroom. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that a few times,” he says, but there’s a tightness in his voice, like he’s trying to keep his emotions in check.

Your head spins as you lean heavily into him, your body swaying with the remnants of the alcohol coursing through your system. The room seems to tilt slightly, and you cling to Matthew, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

He helps you sit on the edge of your bed, kneeling down in front of you as he starts to untie the laces of your shoes. The motion is gentle, almost tender, and you watch him through half-lidded eyes, your vision blurry and unfocused. But even in your drunken haze, you can see the concentration on his face, the way his brows knit together as he works to loosen the knots.

“You’re… you’re the best, Matty,” you mumble, your voice thick with affection. Your words come out slurred, but the sentiment behind them is clear. “So good to me. Always so good.”

Matthew lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s something strained in the sound, like he’s trying to hold back a flood of emotions. “Just trying to make sure you don’t sleep in your shoes,” he says, his voice low and calm as he pulls off your first sneaker, setting it aside before moving on to the next.

Your head lolls to the side as you watch him, your gaze tracing the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. He’s so close, so solid and warm, and you feel an overwhelming surge of affection well up inside you. It’s like a tidal wave, crashing over you and drowning out everything else.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, your fingers trailing down the side of his face, clumsily brushing against the stubble on his cheek. The texture sends a shiver through you, a spark of electricity that ignites something deep in your chest. “I don’t deserve you, Matty.”

Matthew’s hands still for a moment, the laces of your shoe halfway undone. He looks up at you, his expression soft but serious, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze. “You deserve the world,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as if he’s afraid of saying it too loud. “And more.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. It’s like he’s seeing right through you, straight to the core of who you are, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying. You’re not used to being seen like this, not used to someone looking at you with such raw, unfiltered care.

He keeps moving, finishing with your shoes and gently lifting your legs onto the bed, his touch careful and precise. He doesn’t respond to your words, but there’s a tenderness in his actions that speaks louder than any reply. He’s taking care of you, making sure you’re comfortable, and that’s all you can ask for right now.

“Let’s get you ready for bed,” he says softly, his voice soothing as he reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

You let him lift the fabric over your head, your arms limp and uncooperative, but he’s patient, guiding you through the motions with practiced ease. You’re left in your underwear, feeling oddly vulnerable but also safe in his presence. There’s no judgment in his eyes, no discomfort—just pure, unadulterated care.

He’s trying to focus, to keep things as platonic as possible, but your touch, your words—they’re making it difficult. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for your pajamas, and you can’t help but notice the way his breath hitches when your fingers brush against his.

“Matty, you’re so warm,” you mumble, your voice thick and slurred. You cling to his arm, burying your face in the crook of his elbow. “And soft. Like… like a big, comfy pillow.”

His chuckle is soft, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to keep himself from reacting too much. “That’s a new one,” he says, his voice a little strained as he helps you into your pajamas. “Never been compared to a pillow before.”

You giggle, your fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt as you try to pull him closer. “But you are! So warm and nice. And you smell so good…”

He’s trying so hard to keep things light, but your words are cutting through his defenses, making him acutely aware of every little touch, every breath you take. He knows you’re drunk, knows you won’t remember half of this in the morning, but that doesn’t stop the way his heart clenches in his chest at your every compliment.

“Let’s get you into bed, okay?” he says softly, brushing your hair back from your face with gentle fingers. “You need to sleep this off.”

But you’re not ready to sleep, not yet. There’s too much you want to say, too much you’ve been keeping bottled up. The alcohol has loosened your tongue, and you find yourself blurting out things you’d never have the courage to say otherwise.

“I love this shirt,” you mumble, nuzzling into the fabric as he helps you pull it over your head. “Smells like you. No matter how much I wash it, always smells like you…”

He freezes, his hands stilling on your shoulders as your words sink in. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink up at him, your vision blurry but your heart full of unspoken emotions. “It’s yours,” you admit, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I took it before you moved away. Couldn’t… couldn’t stand the thought of not having you with me, so I… I took it.”

The room feels like it’s holding its breath, the air thick with the weight of your confession. Matthew’s grip on your shoulders tightens slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re joking, but all he sees is the raw honesty in your gaze.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, his voice rough. “I thought I lost it.”

His hands tighten on your shoulders, a grounding touch as he steadies himself. He can’t dwell on that now, not with you looking at him like that—soft, bleary-eyed, and so heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he helps you finish pulling the shirt over your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Your arms flop uselessly as he tugs the shirt down, your drunken limbs not cooperating, but Matthew’s hands are steady, guiding you with a gentleness that makes your heart swell.

“Matty…” you mumble, your voice trailing off as he helps you stand, one arm wrapped securely around your waist. The world tilts slightly, and you grip his shirt, your fingers curling into the soft fabric as you try to steady yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his voice a steady murmur against your ear. He’s so close, so solid, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, soothing the edges of your spinning thoughts.

He leads you to the bathroom, each step slow and careful as he supports your weight. The cool tiles under your bare feet send a shiver up your spine, and you lean more heavily into him, your head lolling against his shoulder. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and you close your eyes, savoring the comfort of his presence.

Matthew lifts you up onto the counter with ease, standing between your legs. His fingers brush your cheek, tilting your face up so you can meet his gaze, and even through the fog in your mind, you can see the worry etched in the lines of his face.

“I’m just going to help you clean up, okay?” he says softly, his thumb stroking your cheek in a soothing rhythm. “Then you can get some sleep.”

You nod, the motion making your head spin, but you don’t care. All you want is to be close to him, to feel his hands on you, gentle and caring. You let your eyes flutter closed as he reaches for a makeup wipe, the cool cloth sliding over your skin as he carefully removes the remnants of the night. “God, why do you even wear all this gunk anyway?” he mutters, more to himself than anything.

Matthew’s fingers move with such tenderness, tracing over your skin with the makeup wipe, and you can’t help but giggle softly as the cool cloth sweeps across your cheek. The sensation is oddly comforting, like he’s erasing more than just makeup—he’s wiping away the stress, the insecurities, the fear that’s been knotted in your chest for far too long.

You blink up at him, watching through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrow in concentration. His touch is so delicate, so reverent, like you’re something fragile that he needs to take care of. The thought makes warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your veins until it tingles in your fingertips. You can’t resist reaching out, your hand finding his on your face, and you let your thumb rub along the edge of his wrist. The soft, steady thrum of his pulse under your fingertips makes you sigh, content and drowsy.

"You're so... nice," you slur, even though you’ve said it about a million times tonight. "Like, really nice. And strong. And... you smell good."

Matthew doesn’t say anything, just hums softly in acknowledgment as he moves on to brushing your teeth. He grabs your toothbrush, carefully squeezing the toothpaste onto it like he’s done this a thousand times before. The bristles hit your teeth, and you wrinkle your nose, the minty taste sharp against your tongue. You attempt to brush, but your hand is wobbly, barely cooperating, and soon enough, Matthew’s hand covers yours, guiding the motion in slow, methodical circles.

You close your eyes, letting him take over, and your mind drifts again, this time to all the little things you’ve never said, all the feelings you’ve buried because they’re too big, too scary to voice. But now, with him here, being so sweet and careful, the words come tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I think about you all the time, you know,” you confess, your voice muffled by the toothbrush still in your mouth. “Like, all the time. It’s... it’s stupid. But I do.”

He pauses, his hand stilling for just a moment, and you blink up at him, your gaze fuzzy but earnest. His eyes meet yours, and even through the haze of alcohol, you can see the way his expression softens, something tender and raw flickering across his face.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I think about you too.”

The admission settles over you like a warm blanket, comforting and soft, and you can’t help the dopey smile that stretches across your face. “Good,” you mumble, your words slurring together as the toothbrush is finally taken from your mouth. “’Cause I’m crazy about you, Matty. Like, really crazy. Like... I wanna marry you, crazy.”

Matthew’s breath catches in his throat as your words hang in the air, the room suddenly feeling too small, too warm, like the very walls are leaning in to listen. “I wanna marry you, crazy,” you’ve just said, and the words are like a punch to his gut—equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

He forces himself to focus, to stay grounded in the moment, because you’re here, drunk and vulnerable, and he can’t afford to lose his head, even if his heart is racing like it’s trying to break free from his chest.

You’re still smiling up at him, your eyes droopy but sparkling with the kind of affection that only comes when the alcohol strips away every last ounce of inhibition. He can’t help but smile back, his heart squeezing at how utterly adorable you look, all soft and pliant, just a little messy around the edges.

“Marry me, huh?” he teases, trying to keep his voice light as he puts away the toothbrush and reaches for the hairbrush. “Didn’t know you were planning on proposing tonight.”

You giggle, a sound so sweet it sends a shiver down his spine. “Mmmm, maybe…” you mumble, swaying slightly as you lean forward, your hands finding purchase on his chest. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and you let out a contented sigh. “You’d say yes, right? You… you love me, right?”

The question is so simple, so innocent, and yet it carries the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Matthew swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, and he’s thankful you’re too drunk to notice the way his hands tremble slightly as he starts to brush your hair.

He feels like his heart might burst from the sheer force of how much he adores you, and he has to blink back the sudden sting of tears that threaten to well up. You’re so open, so honest in this state, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. He doesn’t deserve this—doesn’t deserve you—but God, he wants you so badly it hurts.

The brush catches on a small tangle, and you whimper, the sound so pitiful that it pulls him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, quickly working the knot out with his fingers before continuing. He can feel you relaxing more and more with each stroke, your body leaning into his as if you’re trying to meld into him.

You’re so beautiful to him, even like this—especially like this. Hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy from the alcohol. You’re vulnerable, open in a way that makes Matthew’s throat tighten. He’s never seen you like this, not really, and he’s terrified that if he blinks, you’ll disappear, or worse, that this version of you will be gone by morning.

He’s trying so hard to keep things platonic, to not let his feelings slip through, but every brush of your fingers against his skin, every slurred word of affection, makes it harder to keep the walls up.

His thumb brushes against your cheek again, and he can’t help but smile at the way you nuzzle into his hand, like a cat seeking warmth. “You’re gonna feel so embarrassed in the morning,” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “But you’re lucky I’m such a good friend, huh?”

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes his chest tighten. “I’m not embarrassed,” you say, words slurred but insistent. “I’m just being honest. You’re amazing, Matty. The best friend ever.”

He chuckles, a soft sound that rumbles in his chest, and he can’t help but shake his head. “Yeah, well, I try,” he says lightly, though his heart is heavy. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

You whine, a soft sound that tugs at his heartstrings. “Don’t wanna sleep yet,” you mumble, your hands fisting in his shirt. “Wanna stay with you. Wanna… talk.”

Matthew sighs, but it’s more fond exasperation than anything else. “You can talk to me all you want tomorrow,” he says gently. “Right now, you need to rest.”

But you’re not having it. Your grip on his shirt tightens, and you look up at him with those big, glassy eyes that make his resolve waver. “Please, Matty,” you whisper, voice so soft and pleading it makes his heart clench painfully. “Just… stay with me a little longer. Please?”

And damn it, how can he say no to that? How can he say no to you, when you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded in the spinning world around you?

“Alright,” he relents, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a little bit, okay? Then you really need to sleep.”

You nod eagerly, a bright smile spreading across your face, and he can’t help but mirror it, his own smile soft and adoring. He guides you back to the bed, helping you sit down gently, and you tug him down beside you, your hands still clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

You can feel the world spinning in slow, lazy circles as you nuzzle into Matthew’s shoulder, your hands weaving through his messy curls. They’re soft and unruly, just like you imagined. You’ve always wanted to do this, to run your fingers through his hair and tell him he looks like some sort of Disney prince that got lost on his way to a ball.

“I love your hair,” you mumble into his shoulder, your words slurring slightly as the alcohol works its magic. “’S..so fluffy, like a… like a golden retriever.”

Matthew laughs, the sound vibrating against your cheek where it rests on his shoulder, and you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sound. You’ve always loved his laugh—how it’s deep and rich, like dark chocolate, and makes your heart do weird, fluttery things that you’re definitely not thinking about right now. Nope, not at all.

“You’re crazy,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. If anything, he sounds amused, fond even, like he’s secretly enjoying this, watching you unravel and spill your guts like you’re auditioning for some tragic role in a romance movie.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you turn your head slightly to look up at him. He’s so close, his face just inches from yours, and you can see every detail—the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the way his lips quirk up at the corners, and that stupid little dimple that only shows up when he’s genuinely smiling. It’s not fair how pretty he is. It’s not fair that he gets to be your best friend and also make your heart do that weird, fluttery thing you’re definitely not thinking about.

“Why are you so pretty?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not fair. You should be illegal.”

Matthew’s eyes widen slightly, and you can see the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck. “Pretty?” he repeats, his voice a little strained, like he’s not sure if you’re serious or just really, really drunk. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me pretty before.”

“Well, they should,” you insist, your fingers curling tighter in his hair as if to emphasize your point. “You’re like… like a prince or something. A really hot prince who’s also really nice and sweet and—”

Matthew clears his throat, his face turning a deeper shade of red, and you giggle, the sound light and airy. You don’t know why he’s so embarrassed. It’s not like you’re saying anything that isn’t true. He is pretty. And nice. And sweet. And also really, really hot, which you’re definitely not thinking about right now. Nope, not at all.

“Okay, okay,” he says, cutting you off before you can go on another drunken tangent. “I think that’s enough compliments for one night.”

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in a way that you know drives him crazy because he’s always telling you to stop doing it. “But I’m not done,” you protest, your voice whiny and petulant. “You’re… you’re the best, Matty. The best friend ever. And I just… I just love you so much.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and you immediately feel a flush creeping up your cheeks, hot and mortifying. Did you really just say that? Did you really just blurt out your deepest, darkest secret like it’s no big deal? God, you’re an idiot. A drunk, stupid idiot who can’t keep her mouth shut.

Matthew is silent, his gaze soft as he watches you, and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, the thump-thump-thump almost deafening in the quiet room. You want to crawl under a rock and die, or maybe just pass out and pretend this never happened. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

But before you can make your escape, Matthew reaches up, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb brushes against your skin, soft and warm, and you shiver at the touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right? You’re my best friend, and I… I care about you a lot.”

You blink up at him, your vision swimming slightly as you try to process his words. He loves you. He cares about you. But… does he love you like you love him? Does he feel that weird, fluttery thing in his chest when you’re around, or is that just a you problem?

Before you can ask, Matthew is guiding you back down onto the bed, his touch gentle as he tucks you in, pulling the covers up around your shoulders. You’re too tired to protest, your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy, and you let out a soft sigh, your head sinking into the pillow.

“Sleep, okay?” Matthew murmurs, his hand brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. “We can talk more in the morning.”

You want to argue, to tell him that you’re not done, that there’s so much more you need to say, but your body has other plans, and before you know it, you’re drifting off, the sound of Matthew’s steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

As you drift off, you can feel his hand resting on your head, his thumb brushing softly against your temple. The last thing you hear before sleep pulls you under is his voice, quiet and filled with something you can’t quite place.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, crazy girl,” he whispers, and then everything fades into darkness, his touch the only thing anchoring you to the world.

[here-comes-the-moose]

Modern Bad Batch at the Airport/on a Flight

Inspired by the fact that I’ve been flying a lot recently with and without my family, here are some Bad Batch Headcanons of how I think they’d be like.

Hunter

The passenger princess of air travel. Has no idea what time they board, barely knows where they’re going. Only job is to sit there and look pretty.

Actually I lied his other job is constantly fussing over Crosshair.

Constantly gets snapped at by Crosshair for this.

Does not let this deter him from fussing, hovering around Crosshair, and even following him to the bathroom.

Given a number from at least one person on the plane.

His siblings are just glad he remembered his ID and/or passport, since he forgot it one time and had needed to go home and come back to the airport, which had stressed everyone out to no end. He has not lived this down.

Passes out the second his ass is in his seat and will stay asleep the whole time, but somehow has a sixth sense when it comes to one of his sibling’s needing him and will immediately jolt awake and spring into action.

Wrecker

Orders ginger ale on the plane because he LIVES for the ginger ale biscoff cookie/pretzel combo.

Will only sit in the aisle seat because he does not like to look out the window (fear of heights).

Super chill and is the one who keeps the others from killing each other and/or getting pulled aside by TSA.

Sharing snacks with Omega and Hunter.

Not as intense as Hunter, but regularly checks in on Crosshair. Will get snapped at a little bit.

Always watches rom-coms on flights, it’s his routine. He cries every time, but doesn’t really feel embarrassed by it because once they see that he’s watching The Notebook they’re like “understandable sir have a nice day”.

Falls asleep half an hour before the flight ends, every time without fail.

Tech

Has all the boarding passes and knows their gate number and seats from memory.

Made them leave extremely early and still pissed at Hunter for making them leave behind schedule.

In charge of the itinerary.

Loves the window seat since he enjoys looking out the window as he listens to music or a podcast, but also likes to point things out to Omega, since she loves when he does so.

Also checking on Crosshair, but more through observation than outright asking him. Has disappeared and gotten Crosshair something he needs to feel a bit better before wordlessly giving it to his twin. This form of care is much appreciated by Crosshair.

Loves to shop in the airport. He’s a fan of the cute knickknacks, books, and the duty free section as a whole. May or may not be buying something for Phee.

Crosshair

Hates airports and air travel, so he’s miserable the whole time.

Very irritable and short-tempered because of this, but his siblings let it slide since he’s not feeling great.

Ordering a ginger ale on the flight, but because he gets sick not because he likes it.

Needs to sit in the window seat. He wants the privacy if he starts feeling too sick but also looking outside helps him a bit.

Spends most of the flight napping or at least trying to nap. Either way, he’s resting his head on Echo’s shoulder most of the time.

Not that anyone enjoys it, but he hates when they’re hit with turbulence. He’s gripping his armrests (and Echo), he’s scared, he’s nauseous, he’s dizzy and headachey, overall he’s just not having a good time. Spends the whole time there’s turbulence praying, even though he’s not religious.

Echo

Hates and dreads going through TSA.

Pretty chill after it’s over though.

Has a bag (affectionately referred to as “the diaper bag”) that has EVERYTHING in it. Tons of snacks, OTC medicine for basically an anything you can or can’t think of, hand sanitizer, two types of wipes, ear plugs, eye masks, you name it.

Also fussing over Crosshair, but not as much as Hunter since he knows when to just give Crosshair his space to sulk.

Crosshair usually seeks him out for comfort because of this.

Doesn’t care much about where he sits as long as he has the most room available for his prosthetics.

Usually sits next to Crosshair on the plane, since by the time they board Hunter has made Crosshair ban him from occupying the seat next to him.

Hunter is usually on the other side of him.

Omega

Just having a good time.

Tech explains a lot of the technical things to her and she finds it so cool.

Loves takeoff and landing; thinks they’re so fun.

Spends most of the flight watching movies and eating snacks.

Even though she’s having a good time, she’s still worried about Crosshair and always tries to help and/or do something nice for him. The only one who can get away with this without him getting irritated for the most part, but even if he does get irritated it’s just for a second and very mild.

Sharing her snacks with Wrecker and passes some to Hunter as well across the aisle.

Always says thank you to the pilot and flight attendants. Chats with the pilots if she’s given the chance and they always love her and her questions. One time early on into living with the batch and traveling with them she very bluntly said to the pilot “thank you for not making my brother throw up”. Crosshair was mortified but the pilot laughed and thanked her for the compliment.

[sugarrrsweett]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my fish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-

[ssahotchnerr]

hi katie <33

if you're not too busy id like to make an angsty request: aaron forgot about reader's birthday because he was very busy with a case but he ends up making up to reader after a little fight because he didnt understand why she was upset :(

a case of forgetfulness

cw; angst and lots of it!!!!!, reader is upset, mentions of guilt, aaron is being dumb but it's not intentional, ends fluffy

wc; 1.6k

-

you can't blame him. but that doesn't necessarily mean it's not allowed to hurt.

because it does.

but he should've known. he should've realized.

aaron's been away the past few days, in more ways than one. the first to name, was simply his absence. this, you had gotten used to, as it was a typical circumstance as a result of his demanding occupation. him being states away, as normal as it was, always had it's different effects on you, both mentally and physically, no matter how much you've accepted it. you missed him with every ounce of you, and worry overtook your mind most nights as you laid there in the silence of darkness alone. without him. the darkness was accompanied with all the what ifs. every time you received word he was off to a case, you never dared to think it may be the last time you would see him. no, you didn't dare to think that.

as for the physical aspect, you felt his absence. it always brought an emptiness within you, an abyss of a void that felt nearly impossible to fill. today, and understandably so, it felt a bit deeper. in order to ease your mind, and not being able to go a day without speaking to you, aaron would check in regularly, whether it was a quick phone call or a text. anything sufficed. it brought both of you peace. you brightened his toughest days. it eased your mind. it made long days manageable.

if a case were bad, he would go quiet. it was never intentional, nor did it have anything to do with you. aaron was, well, himself. he was devoted to his job. he was dedicated to the victims, their families, and all who fell in between. it was one of the traits you loved most about him, and were most proud of. so if he were more on the silent side, you knew he was using every part of him to find whoever was responsible.

he was selfless, for those he barely knew, and especially for the ones he loved.

and perhaps that's why you were so taken aback.

at some point during the day, he must've looked at the calendar. the particular date must've sparked something in his mind. it just had to, and it had to have felt familiar, in one way or another.

but as the day progressed, your heart was merely falling as it slowly accepted the reality.

aaron had forgotten your birthday.

-

you felt guilty for being upset. you felt guilty knowing aaron would beat himself up over this.

aaron had never made you feel anything less than loved. never. the moment you first laid eyes onto him, and him onto you, you experienced something you never thought possible. an immense amount of safety. you had felt vulnerable, but yet wanted him to witness and know every part of you. there was a sparkle in his eyes that told you everything you had needed to know, and didn't even know you had needed. one look in his eyes, you felt a worldwide of possibilities; that he was the one you were meant to find all along. and he must've felt it too, because here you were. falling in love with aaron hotchner was the easiest thing to do.

ever since then, that's how it had always felt. despite the bad days, each had ended with that same glimmer in his eyes, the reminder that the two of you were connected and it would remain that way. you loved him, and he loved you.

how could he have forgotten?

-

maybe it was a crazy fluke. maybe the timezone had gotten to him, you doubted he was getting much sleep. so when you awoke the next morning, following your birthday, you expected to have countless voicemails and texts waiting for you. at least, the possibility had finally allowed you to get some sleep, all of which was restless.

your heart fluttered as you rolled onto your side, grabbing your phone from the bedside table. again, aaron couldn't have forgotten. aaron never forgot anything when it came to you. you. there would be an apology, there had to be. he hadn't meant to forget, everything would be alright.

you took one look at your phone, and were met with no new messages. no missed calls.

your only choice was to go back to sleep. or more so, attempt to sleep.

-

"hi."

he sounded exhausted.

it was the next day, two days after your birthday to be more specific. aaron still hadn't realized, you wouldn't dare to bring it up.

"hi, how's it going?" you hoped he would at least pick up on your tone. your voice was small, hurt on the brink of it.

he exhaled a breath into the phone. "it's going."

"that bad?"

"yeah." another deep breath came from his end. "it's bad, i can't wait to just forget about the past few days."

well, that statement made your heart instantly drop.

"yeah..." your voice trailed off, coming up short for words. you didn't know what to say, and it didn't help that silent tears were now flowing freely down your cheeks. "you all will figure it out, you always do."

aaron paused, he must've caught something in your voice because he asked, "are you alright?"

"i'm fine." you insisted, probably speaking too quickly to be convincing. "i don't want to keep you, you have things to do. so i'll let you go. i'll see you soon?"

"uh, yeah." he stammered slightly, surprised you were ending the conversation so abruptly. it wasn't like you to do such a thing, usually trying to prolong a phone call as much as you could. "i'll see you soon. but baby, are you sure you're okay?"

the last thing you wanted was to keep his mind off the case. people needed him. but so did you. and the fact that he still hadn't realized, you could feel the anger beginning to replace your initial sadness.

you wiped at your tears, failing miserably as they were nonstop. "of course, i'm positive."

he shouldn't have bought that, but he did.

-

"sweetheart?"

the long awaited, and dreaded, moment had finally arrived. he had made it home safe and sound, allowing you to feel some relief for the first time in days. no matter how angry you may be, your happiness of having him home outweighed that. it always would.

you hadn't spoken to him in two days. if he called, you didn't answer. if he texted, he received the bare minimum when it came to quantity of words. it felt strange; not hearing his voice, being so short with him. but you weren't too sorry about it, honestly.

by habit, you almost replied. but your mouth stopped yourself before you were able to. in addition, you resisted the urge to throw yourself into his arms. you bit down onto your lip, forcing your tears to stay put.

getting no reaction, aaron tried again. "sweetheart?"

"how was it?" you simply asked, not meeting his eyes.

you weren't making eye contact, you weren't rushing into his embrace, something was wrong and aaron knew it. he wasn't going to let the topic change, not this time. "i know you're upset, please tell me what's wrong." this time you looked at him, his kind, brown eyes were pleading.

"are you just now noticing?" part of you wanted to laugh, the other part wanted to crumble onto the floor. "that i've been upset?"

aaron's face drew into confusion. "baby-"

"how could you?" you didn't bother hiding the anguish in your voice this time, tears blurring your vision. you kept your gaze on him, slight disbelief in your eyes. "how could you forget?"

"forget..." aaron voice was nearly inaudible, immediately raking through his brain in attempt to recall whatever it was you were referring to. it took a second, but the change was almost instant, like a smack to the face. his eyes widened, and he didn't hesitate to reach for you. "oh my god. your birthday."

you remained quiet, but allowed him to wrap his arms around you. his hold was strong, his large hands spread over your back.

"sweetheart, i am so sorry. i don't... i don't know how it managed to slip my mind. i really don't." this time, aaron's voice was small. disappointment was evident in it, he couldn't believe his mistake. how could he have forgotten? you were his entire life, you meant everything to him, and he intended to ask you a very important question very soon. how did he not realize?

you shrugged. "it's fine, you were-"

"no sweetheart, don't make excuses for me." aaron interrupted, his eyes sad. "this is completely my fault, i should've known. this case was just..."

you nodded in understanding and laid your head against his chest, feeling a breath of relief ripple through his chest at the contact; rightfully so, you were upset, but at least you weren't resenting him.

but you were going to be honest. "but it hurt. you know?"

"of course." he agreed without hesitation. "but it's still no excuse. i'm going to make it up to you. i promise i will."

"i know you will." you nodded your head again, leaning back slightly to place a kiss where his heart was. all the tension you had had in you was quickly draining away, because you wholeheartedly believed him. "i have no doubts about that."

"i don't deserve you. really." he placed a kiss on the top of your head. "i'm surprised you aren't more mad at me, honestly."

"everyone makes mistakes, you're human." your lips pulled into a small smile as you met his eyes, those eyes of his. "and with a job like yours, you're allowed to have a scrambled brain sometimes."

"but that doesn't make it alright." aaron mumbled slightly, guilt sweeping through him.

"no," you placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts. "but i love you, regardless."

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret?

JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.

This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange. 

When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.

When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow. 

You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad. 

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.

He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”

“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”

You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”

There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”

“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”

“Sure thing. Bye bye.”

The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.

The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.

You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.

“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”

She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”

She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.

“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?” 

“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”

“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”

The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.

The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”

Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”

“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke. 

His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”

“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”

He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”

You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”

His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”

“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.

“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”

Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.

Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.” 

You glance at him again, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front. 

You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.

“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”

Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.

“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe. 

“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.

She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.

“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.

Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.

She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You shake your head, and she laughs again.

“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”

“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.

She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”

You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week. 

You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them. 

Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”

It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.

Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”

His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over. 

When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.

“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”

He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.

You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.

It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”

You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.

The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”

Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.

“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”

He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.

[multific]

Start of Something New

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, attempted murder, attempted rape

His team found you locked in a dungeon. You were so scared you only had a knife yet you did significant damage to one of his men.

They wanted to shoot you but Soap pointed out you were more scared than an enemy.

You were brought back to the base, for information and also to look at the injuries you might have.

"I told you I don't know anything. They took down our plane, I was one of the survivors. They killed the others, tortured us."

"Lieutenant, she is telling the truth, we found her ID and her story matches," said Soap. 

"Then why did you attack us?" turned the one with the mask back to you.

"I told you, they tortured us, I thought you were the same and I rather die than let them do those things."

Ghost nodded and walked out of the room, his men followed as a doctor took a look.

"I have a feeling the lass is not telling the entire truth, keep her here. She is not a regular civilian." Soap nodded and prepared a room for you.

Ghost later spoke with the doctor and Price.

"She was very dehydrated and had a fractured rib. Many cuts and bruises and a broken finger which didn't heal well. She said she was almost raped many times, the only thing that kept them away was that she fought."

"She is not telling us something, why didn't they kill her?"

"She didn't say that, but she did mention something about her father, she could be from a rich family."

Now that made sense.

Ghost prefered things when they made sense. And Price needed answers.

That night, you finally slept in a bed, warm and calm, with no guns to your head, or knife to your neck, just you and the pillows.

It was warm and comfortable and you finally let out all the tears you held back.

Two days later, Ghost got into your room as you were eating your lunch, putting a file onto the table in front of you. 

"So your Daddy's rich and that's why they took you."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Yes, but he doesn't care enough to pay for me." you took another bite from your lunch. "Anything else? Sir?" you asked when he didn't move, you looked up at him, he was looking at you, his mask covering his face but his eyes were very telling. 

"I know now why they didn't kill you, but I don't know why I feel like this."

This confused you, you tilted your head. Was he angry with you? Should you do something?

"Uhm... I'm not sure wh-"

"You bewitched me, Love. Something about you... I can't quite point it out." you smiled, still not understanding but you wanted to be understanding or at least look understanding.

"You don't get it, do you, Sweets?" you shook your head slowly, no, you didn't get it. He let out a sigh, not one to be talking about his feelings at all. "There is something about you, I don't know what it is, and it's confusing me. I want to keep you safe, I stayed outside of your room for the last few days, every night, in case you needed someone."

"So that was you, I thought someone was spying on me." he shook his head. But from the way he talked you understood he wasn't the 'let's talk' kind of guy. No, he was the 'push it down' kind. But you thought you understood what he meant. 

He liked you. For some strange reason, only seeing you a couple of times, and he liked you.

You picked up the file he threw in front of you.

"This might be my past but it is not me. If you want to know me, you have to ask me, not these files." you two just looked at each other, not saying a word. Then, you decided to break the silence. "I'm single and I have a thing for British army men with masks on." you said and smiled, it made him chuckle. This was a start.

As he finally sat down next to you and watched you eat, you had time to think about this situation.

"They offered to help me go back to my old life, but I don't think I want to."

"What do you want to do then?"

"I have some medical knowledge, do you think I could become a nurse? I always wanted to be one."

"I'll arrange it for you, I'm sure the doc here can help you learn more."

"I'd like that." you nodded as you finally finished your plate.

"So, you'd stay here with me?"

"That's the plan." you nodded and you could see his eyes sparkle. 

There was something intriguing about you patching him up after a mission. He wasn't sure what but it made him feel warm inside. 

"This wasn't an invitation to get hurt, Lieutenant."

"Copy that." he immediately replied. "Call me Simon."

"Alright, Simon, what do you do around here for fun?"

"I have a mission soon, but I can show you around."

"If you have to go, go. I don't want to stand between you and your work."

"Of course, but I do want to show you around the med bay at least. Introduce you and we can ask the doc."

"Alright then, you lead the way."

---

His mission lasted three weeks.

During that time, you became familiar with the place, and the doctor was so kind, she helped you through all and showed you so many things. She was glad to see someone finally interested.

Of course, she wasn't blind, she immediately understood why Ghost brought you there. Not only to learn but also to keep you for himself. 

"They arrived back you know. I heard Captain say they came back two hours ago. Thankfully none are hurt so they are not here."

"Two hours ago?"

"They are wrapping things up, he will come and see you soon, do not worry. They just have to put their guns down and such." you nodded at the doctor, she was right, the fact that none of them was here was a good sign, it meant they are not hurt. He is alive and he's back, that kept you going.

"Hi Doc." came a voice, Soap arrived at the med bay, you recognized him, he was a kind man. "I might have a pulled shoulder, can you look at it for me?"

"Y/N will have a look." she pointed at you and you guided him to a bed.

He was quick to remove his shirt and showed you his back and shoulder while pointing at the place that hurt.

You examined his shoulder, the bruise was clear but you needed to make sure it wasn't broken or the muscle is not damaged. You grabbed his arm and started to move it around, when you moved it in a particular way, he whined. You couldn't help but wonder if Ghost was this muscular, or was he more muscled? You didn't let your hands wander, you kept up a professional look, but your mind was filled with Simon.

"What happened?" just as you asked Ghost entered the room. 

"Fell off the stairs and landed against a pipe. Fucked up my shoulder pretty bad."

"Did you dislocate it?" you asked fully knowing they are the kind who would put it back themselves.

"No, just hurts like hell."

"You pulled the muscle here." you said as you pressed your palm against the area. "There is a bruise so I'll apply some cream to cool the area. You need to be mindful of it or it will get worse. I'll give you some painkillers as well." you said and he nodded, you grabbed the cream and applied it to his skin. "Let it soak in for a few minutes or your shirt will rub it off."

"Thank you, Sweetheart." Soap commented. "Came to see your girl, Sir?" 

"Fuck off." said Ghost as Soap laughed as he headed to the doctor who gave him the painkillers.

"Should I have a look at your shoulder as well?" you asked Simon.

"No, I'm not hurt, came to ask when your lunch is?"

"She can go." the doctor yelled behind the two of you, you both turned to have a look at her. "In fact, she is free to leave for the day." she said pointing around the empty room. 

You both nodded and headed out, you did turn to her and muttered a small thanks.

She just winked at you. 

"How was your mission?" you asked as you sat down on your couch, a warm tea in your hand.

"Usual." he rather not tell you how many men he killed, he wanted you away from that part. "I see you and the doc are getting along."

"Oh, yes, she's lovely. Very helpful, I learned a lot during just three weeks. I missed you, you know? You weren't in front of my door every day." you laughed a little and you could tell just from his posture as he was also very happy. Even if he had his mask on. You wondered often if he had a scar or something. According to the doc, that wasn't the case, and not like you'd care anyway. But it still made you wonder. 

"Glad to hear that you missed me much like I missed you, also glad to hear you are getting along here with everyone." you nodded as he spoke. Seeing that he was also very fond of you, knowing your feelings were reciprocated. 

"You know I was scared you would change your mind." you spoke. He tilted his head slightly, almost as a puppy would when they are trying to understand something.

It was adorable.

He was adorable.

"I thought you might come to me with the 'In my line of work I cannot afford to have such relationships' speech." You said as you tried to imitate his voice, miserably failing but he did really appreciate it. 

"Not going to lie, I did want to tell you that. But as soon as I stepped into the med bay and saw you helping one of mine, I knew I couldn't."

"Were you jealous because I was touching Johnny?"

"No." his reply was fast, way too fast. "But I didn't like it."

"So, you were jealous."

"I'm never jealous." 

"Sure..." you rolled your eyes and took a sip from your now almost cold tea.

"Stop teasing me. I'm telling you I wasn't jealous. I was more... angry."

"Possessive then. You didn't like that I was touching another man when you never even held my hand before." you had a point, he knew you had a point, and yes, he admitted, he was extremely possessive. 

He wanted to be the one to hold you, he wanted to be the one to keep you safe. So seeing you touch Soap, ignited a fire in him. And you liked that. You liked to see him be like this. 

"Can I ask you something?" you said and he nodded.

"Do you do this with every woman you save?" he started to laugh, so much he even teared up. 

"Why are you laughing?! This is a perfectly normal assumption." you crossed your arms after you put your mug down.

"It might be but-" he continued to laugh. "I don't even look at the people we save now. You caught my eye, I told you."

"So, no secret wives?"

"I'm not married, I told you before."

"That's why I said secret wives."

"More than one? Fuck no, you are enough trouble already. No secret wives or husbands. Only you, Love." you nodded, happy with his answer.

"I want to kiss you, but I understand if you rather not take off the-" you pointed at your own head, meaning his mask. 

"We-You could-Close your eyes." you did as you were told immediately and you anticipated his kiss, which soon came. You heard him shuffle but you didn't peak.

Soon, you felt one of his hands on your cheek, you heard him let out a sigh and his breath fanned over your face. 

You felt your heart rate pick up, probably he felt it too as his thumb was right over your pulse, it was probably an instinct of his.

"You good?" he asked as he felt your heart.

"Yeah. Excited." you heard him smile as he soon closed the distance. 

His lips were thin, yet still very full and warm. It was a short and sweet kiss, he was clearly testing the waters. Holding himself back, but when you raised up your hand, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for another kiss, a deeper, hungrier kiss.

You let him lead, as you felt his hands move along your side as they came to a rest on your ribcage. You smiled into the kiss.

Who knew a man of his power can be so gentle and caring?

"You are mine." he said as he pulled back from the kiss, he stayed close, as you still felt his hot breath against your lips.

"And you are mine, Simon." you said to him as you pulled him in again.

You were his and he was yours. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[etherealising]

hey vee! omg i’m so glad you extended your celebration. i’ve been drowning in schoolwork and kinda losing my mind but i totally wanna participate at least once!

ik we’re team barmy in this house but i’m curious to see a drabble on what this day was like from camry’s perspective.

that day baby came to work and he was on a date with claire. how did he bring himself to even go especially after their previous night together. (ik this may be a lil agnsty, i’ve been loving that kind of stuff lately) 💞💞

stawph!!! this request excites me every time i read it and idk why lol. i love writing pre-aiekoy barby it's so much fun to just invent a bunch of lore!!

thank you so much for requesting!!! i see you in my inbox bestie and i promise i’ll get back to you love!! also your constant support really is one of the reasons i keep posting so thank you so much for indulging me 🫶🏽

After baby leaves the berzatto household carmy literally has zero clue what to do with himself, like man is just staring at his bedroom door 30 minutes later trying to figure out if what just happened was real or just his imagination.

He definitely brushes his fingers across his lips a couple of times, tingles racing through his body every time he thinks about your lips on his.

Carmy goes to sleep happy that night his mind full of visions of you as he finally lays his head to rest.

Sunday rolls around and he’s feeling a bit anxious that neither of you have seen or spoken to each other since that night.

Carmy is freaking out like it genuinely hasn’t even been a full 24 hrs since the moment the two of you shared and he’s sure he scared you off. Maybe you just kissed him back because you felt sorry for him man is running through all the worst scenarios in his head.

He’s definitely picked up the phone to call you and typed out messages but was too scared to do either one in fear of rejection or worse in fear of ruining your already rocky friendship.

At some point, he just relegates himself to finishing some English final essay to keep his mind off of you (it obviously doesn’t work).

It’s getting later as the day passes by and Carmy’s just staring at the few words in the notebook and the eraser marks decorating the page.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the table pulls him from his thoughts and that boy is racing from his seat to answer it, no hesitation no checking the caller ID nothing.

He answers breathlessly and calls your name with a smile on his face because who else would be calling him?

The devastation radiates off of him as Claire’s voice rings into his ears. He gives her an uninterested “Oh, hi.” Mans is not happy at all but he was raised right so he indulges her.

Carmy zones out as soon as he realizes it’s not you, moving through the living room to peek through the curtains at your house, your car is still in the driveway so you must be home, maybe he can go see you after this phone call.

Claire’s voice drifts through his ears asking where he’s at and homeboy is confused most of his focus going to how he’s gonna get his girl who isn’t yet his girl.

And then he remembers before his moment with you, before he knew what it felt like to feel the soft caress of your lips, the weight of your body in his lap. Claire asked him to lunch and he said yes!

He stumbles over his words, he can easily tell Claire that he’s not interested, that there’s someone else. But only an asshole would do something like that over the phone. So with one last look at your car, he decides he’ll meet up with Claire, let her down easy, and then you and him can figure out what this is between the two of you.

Carmy uses the back entrance not wanting to engage with any of the many people crowded in line at the front of the shop, easily finding Claire alone at a table a sigh of relief escaping him that she hadn’t chosen yours and his special table.

It’s awkward for the first few minutes after he sits down. He promised himself he’d start by admitting to Claire that he thought she was nice and pretty even, but that he realized he was in love with someone else.

Claire breaks the ice before he can even get his little speech out, maybe he’ll wait till the end of this little hangout maybe that would save the awkwardness of having to eat with someone you admitted you didn’t have feelings for.

Somehow the two of them go from awkward conversation to joking around about the previous night at prom.

Carmy’s back is to the entrance so he doesn’t take notice of your presence but he watches as Claire’s eyes drift from his face her eyes lighting up hand waving with gusto as she says your name.

Carmy doesn’t even need to turn around to see you, a heavy weight growing at the bottom of his stomach, but he does anyway and the way you avoid his eyes is enough proof that this whole situation upset you.

He doesn’t even give Claire a second thought before he’s out of his seat trying to find you, the muffled cries leaving the walk-in lead him straight to you, and he can’t help the annoyance that builds up in him at hearing Mikey’s voice.

His older brother, always there to save the fucking day. He stays a bit longer just listening to you sob and he knows he was the cause of your anguish.

Carm returns to Claire and apologizes for leaving and he doesn’t explain anything but he can see the sadness in her eyes as a silent conversation passes between the two of them her eyes watering with her hurt and realization.

Claire was kind enough to offer him a ride home, but Carmy decided to walk home, he didn’t know how he could live with the weight of making two girls cry in one day.

On the tedious walk home, Carmy comes to the decision that it’s best if he just lets you believe what you want. You’ll be gone soon and there’s no point in clearing anything up, no point in putting his feelings about you into words if the two of you will be apart soon.

So he self-sabotages allows you to think he’s the bad guy (i mean he kinda is lol) doesn’t clear up what you think you saw, and doesn’t address the kiss and intimate moment he initiated.

And as the days tick down to your departure he watches you grow closer to Hayden, ignoring Claire’s questioning looks as she tries to understand why you and Carmy aren’t together yet.

The time comes for your departure and he’s built up some false confidence about telling you the truth about everything but he chokes. Wishes you luck in college and mutters promises about keeping in touch, promises he knows are a lie as soon as he speaks them because he doesn’t think he could pretend to be happy for you knowing his own happiness lies with you.

a/n: gosh do i love making these two suffer, there’s some tidbits in here that i might expand on in a carmy interlude i have planned but only time will tell. enjoy!

[bcolfanfic]

If you have any,,, id love to hear more hcs about the intervention

*cracks knuckles* some background first (that is over-riding my wedding headcanons a lil re: the first time they see bucky post attempt- ah c'est la vie). also these were, shocking no one atp a collab effort with @swifty-fox

it comes up to begin with bc the bucks decide to go hang out and muck about in nyc where the others live. yayyy!!! boy time!!!

except not *yay* in that bucky's drinking has been getting. bad.

he tries hard to mask it, takes up chewing gum every second of the day to mask the smell on his breath but he's not perfect. drinks in the shower before they go out for the day with the guys, and he's off but the guys mostly chalk it up to bucky's typical buckyisms. gale maybe knows he probably isn't sober, but he's stressed and hurting and for the sake of having fun with their friends just tries to pretend he doesn't know. esp when he's not being sloppy, just a little off.

then croz walks in on bucky doing shooters (these, if you're unfaimialr) in a bathroom he had them all stop at. tries to be gentle about it- tell him he doesn't need those, if he's thirsty they can stop and get some water. but bucky snaps at him that to not talk to him like one of his kids and things escalate. they get into it and poor brady who volunteered to go see why they were taking so long in the bathroom is the one who has to break them up just like he did in bagram. war flashbacks. literally.

croz doesnt want to make much more of a scene about it so he doesnt walk out blasting what happened, but he does text gale about it. (as written in el dorado he does tell everyone right there bc he’s pissed) and at this point it's obvious to everyone that bucky isn't sober and i just </3. when bucky leans into gale and says he doesn't feel good gale kinda jumps at the opportunity to go back to their hotel. wants to take care of his bucky, but is also hurting and honestly a little embarassed.

then a lot of things happen that i think i'm gonna save to write in a fic but. including not limited to gale realizing bucky is hiding alochol in diff bottles when bucky asks him to grab a water from the mini fridge and is like uhhh no no not that one, not that one. and gale breaking his own heart having to help him drink when theyre back home because he almost went into full blown withdrawal trying to just up and quit cold turkey to save face.

to your actual question about the intervention, it's mostly curt's idea- that he shares on the phone when the bucks are back in wyoming. and gale is pretty much certain it's a horrible idea but he doesn't know what else to even try so he agrees. all the guys that were on the nyc trip fly out, and gale gets bucky out of the house for the morning (curt knows where their spare key is) so that the other guys can at least. get in the house without bucky physically stopping them.

but bucky knows something is up when they pull back in the driveway. sees all the cars and *knows* what this is and just looks at gale like he's committed the ultimate betrayal </3

it's a pretty rough start. curt starts talking all "should we go dig that bullet out of the wall or d'you wanna stop pretending your healing journey is over" and when bucky understandably kinda freaks at that he makes him tell the other guys what he's talking about. poor thing doesn't want to. tells curt's that not fucking fair he's such a narc, a bad friend but curt is like no. this is eating you up inside. you need to say it out loud. they're your friends. they love you. *i* love you.

ends up telling them, and that crack in the armor is enough that he's at least not snapping at all of them/letting them talk.

but it gets rough again when it's ultimatum time. croz’s is not letting him around his kids- not because he thinks bucky would *ever* hurt them, but bucky is just. a liability in a lot of ways with this and the whole point of ultimatums is that they are. tough to hear. they have to be. or they don't work.

demarco's is that if bucky genuinely refuses to get help then gale is getting on a plane with him (whether gale thinks he'd actually be able to go through with that or not he agreed to let demarco say it). and that's when bucky snaps again. talking so hard he's spitting about oh i don't even get to go back to wisconsin? just gonna leave me in wyoming to die, huh?

and gale bursts into tears </3 which is what really makes bucky break because gale *never* cries. but now he's sobbing because god bucky's trying so hard but he's still not better and he's hurting the people he loves. he's hurting them a lot.

bucky on his knees crawls to kneel in front of him and take his face in his hands "i'm sorry im sorry please don't cry, leave if you want just don't cry baby

and gale's crying telling he just wants him to listen to him and to their friends whydoy only care now cause ‘m crying- look at /them/, it’s not fair.

bucky wants to barf when he listens, turns around and looks at their friends and seems them looking back at them like *that*. but some part of him, the part that is desperate to get better feels really damn lucky to be so loved by them that they even showed up. that they want him to get better.

[george-weasleys-girl]

I’ve been binge reading your fics all day, and i’d love to request one!

So, we all know that Fred Weasley is always energetic, loud and a troublemaker, right? He’s totally golden retriever energy. Maybe he meets a girl the exact opposite of him- Quiet, Shy, maybe somewhat emo? Like a golden retriever boy x black cat girl trope? Id love to see your perspective on this! 🤍

Such a fun request! I hope you enjoy!!

Opposites Attract Pt. 1

Fred's POV

Fred stopped his loud, boisterous bouncing around and watched as Y/N sat down in her favorite spot under the big oak tree and pulled a book out to read. Of all the girls at Hogwarts, Y/N was the one that fascinated him the most. With her jet-black hair, all-black wardrobe, and her quiet manner, she was the exact opposite of every other girl he'd ever fancied. She was shy, reserved, and even though she had friends, she seemed to prefer being on her own most of the time.

"I wonder what she's reading." Fred strained, trying to make out the title.

George glanced up from the invention he was tinkering with. "Looks like a book to me."

"Don't be cheeky," Fred grumbled. "You know what I mean."

George grinned. "I see you're crushing hard on our little black cat girl."

"I am not crushing on her." Fred looked away to hide his faint blush.

"Ok." George shrugged.

"I'm not."

"Ok."

"Seriously, George, I'm not."

"O-K."

"Ok."

"Ok," George finished. "Now come help me with this."

Fred snuck one final, quick look at Y/N before turning his attention to his twin and their newest invention.

~•~

Y/N's POV

Y/N was nervous. She knew she was being watched by Fred Weasley. And she also knew he had taken an interest in her. At least, that's what her friends said anyway.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She'd never had a boyfriend before, and it would be nice to have one. But Fred Weasley? Mischief maker extraordinaire, the life of party, the center of attention everywhere he went. If she dated him, she'd get sucked into that, and the possibility terrified her.

Y/N had spent her life happily being a wallflower. Sure, her black-on-black style garnered a bit of attention from time to time. But it was usually only momentary. Once people realized she wasn't going to do anything interesting, they got bored and turned their focus elsewhere. That suited her just fine. She liked being the invisible one. The one everyone's eyes slipped over.

Daring a quick peak through her bangs, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw she was no longer being scrutinized. Good, she thought. Now, maybe she could relax and get some reading done before dinner. Putting the older Weasley twin promptly out of her mind, she turned her attention to her newest potions book.

~•~

Fred's POV

Fred stared at the back of Y/N's lovely head as she worked on an assignment in Potions. She excelled at the subject and was probably the only non-Slytherien student who didn't think Snape was horrible. "He's really not that bad." Fred had overheard her telling one of her friends.

Indeed, Snape did treat her differently than most of Hogwarts' students. While she didn't receive the preferential royal treatment reserved only for Slytherin, he never tormented her as he did everyone else. He generally just left her alone, occasionally praising her on her potions work.

Fred couldn't help but wonder what sort of spell she cast to achieve this unprecedented feat. Maybe when he asked her out to Hogsmede, she'd share her secret. He sighed, gazing at her lips as she turned to speak to her partner when someone slapped the back of his head.

"Ow!" Fred looked up to see Snape glaring down at him.

"Save your Don Juan scheming for after class, Weasley." Snape ordered, rolling his eyes.

Fred rubbed the back of his head, pointedly ignoring George's smirking, knowing look as he watched the professor stalk back to his desk. Once again, he wondered why Snape left Y/N out of the matter. If she'd been anyone else, he would've made a point to embarrass her, too. What was so special about Y/N?

Snape's POV

Snape had a soft spot for Y/N. Aside from her loner nature and her penchant for black, which reminded him of himself, she was one of the most brilliant students he'd ever taught, and that was not a term he threw around lightly.

A few days into her first year, Y/N approached him after class to discuss a particular potion in her textbook. She was shy and uncertain of herself, but her questions and insights broached ideas that went far beyond anything he taught in his most advanced classes. Snape was impressed in spite of himself.

Y/N didn't have much practical experience with mixing potions, obviously, being too young to practice magic outside of school. But, she was incredibly well-read on the subject, spending hours pouring over any potions book she could get her hands on.

Mid-way through her second year after she'd read every potions book in the library, Snape began letting her borrow books from his private collection. Every couple of weeks, like clockwork, she'd stop by after class to trade out another book and ask a litany of thoughtful questions.

Much to his surprise, Snape found himself looking forward to their little chats. It was lovely to have a student who wasn't a complete dolt for once. And whose mastery of potions made her a worthwhile conversationalist. However, if he were completely honest with himself, he mostly enjoyed them because it was like having a friend.

~•~

Fred's POV

Y/N was sitting in her usual spot reading. Fred smiled at her. She looked extra adorable today with the little fall leaf that had fluttered into her hair unnoticed.

"Hi!" Fred greeted, striding over to her.

"Umm, hi." Y/N looked up at him for the briefest of moments before her eyes darted away.

"Mind if I join you?" He was all but bouncing in place.

"I-uh-ok." Y/N stuttered.

He flopped down beside her with all the grace of a drunk walrus. "Beautiful fall day, yeah?"

"Yeah--" she mumbled, shrinking away from him.

Fred noticed. "Oh shit, sorry, am I coming on too strong?"

Y/N only blinked.

"I am, aren't I?"

Unsure how to respond, Y/N continued to say nothing.

"Dammit! George told me to tone it down," Fred rambled on. "But did I listen?" He shifted away from her so he was no longer up in her face.

Y/N swallowed, watching his every move. "C-can I help you with something?"

"As a matter of fact, you can," Fred smiled. "You see, I have this little problem. George and Lee both have girlfriends they're taking to Hogsmede on Saturday, and I don't, and I'd really prefer not to go alone. I'd love it if you accompanied me. What do you say?"

@princess-paramour @milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley

~•~

[cornfieldsrambles]

ALRIGHT WAKE UP WELCOME HOME FANDOM I JUST REALISED SOMETHING

So Home, right? I think we’ve mostly collectively agreed that Home is evil, or at least is just very unstable and dangerous, and Wally’s kind of trapped with it since, y’know, it’s his house. And we’ve deduced from the “if you can see me then stay quiet” page and the So-Below page that Wally isn’t exactly happy about this.

Or that’s at least the theory I’m going with.

Anyway. I was poking around on the website and saw something… interesting in the description of the show.

(Image ID: A screenshot of some text from a page on the Welcome Home website. The following text is highlighted: “Episodes usually began with Wally introducing the focus or theme for the day before coming across other characters who would join him on his escapades until the end of the day, which would signify the end of the show.” End ID.)

At first I didn’t think too hard about this. Seems pretty standard for the kind of show that Welcome Home was supposed to be, right?

But then I really thought about it.

The end of the day… signified the end of the episode. Presumably, at that point, they would say goodbye to the viewers and each character would go back to their respective home.

Now… bear with me here. Wally was the main character and introduced every episode. He’s very likely the character with the most screen time, and given the number of other characters and settings in town, he’d probably interact with a whole bunch of them during an episode. Even before the rest of the cast would get involved in an episode, he’d still be interacting with the viewers.

What I’m saying is… he’s never alone at any point during an episode.

More specifically… he’s never alone at HOME.

So the only time he is alone at home is when the episode ends, and everyone goes back to their houses.

Now put yourselves in his shoes for a minute. Your house is sentient. And unstable. Potentially evil. It may even be influencing you in ways you don’t understand. So you cherish every moment where you are not trapped inside this terrifying building, completely on your own. You longingly look forward to each sunrise, the beginning of each new episode, where you can step outside the door and see your neighbours again.

How would you feel - specifically, how desperate would you have become - had you been suddenly and unexpectedly trapped in this house for… oh, I don’t know…

…almost fifty years?

This. This right here. This is why Wally has this whole thing about SIGHT. This is why Wally wants to ‘see’ us so badly. Because of how long he’s gone without seeing a viewer. Without any reassurance that he isn’t trapped alone with Home forever.

[tokiwarcube]

This is gonna be so random, but can we get dethklok headcanons of how they'd react to their s/o being a ghoul/ghoulette in Ghost, please? 😶

Less random than you'd think, actually! This prompt in particular was actually written with a ghoul/ette reader in mind, although it wasn't explicitly stated. I'm actually a huge Ghost fan, myself! Bonus points to anyone who can ID me in the movie, LMAO

I do encourage reading This one for a bit more instrument/element specifics, but regardless, do enjoy!

Nathan Explosion

Despite his fame, Nathan keeps his personal life a secret from the media — or well, as best as he can as one of the most famous men in the world. So in that sense, he kind of admires the anonymity you maintain. Or at least used to maintain, anyways.

He’s gotten sucked into the metal vs. not metal debate, and before seeing you perform, he absolutely lies on the latter half of the debate. But holy shit, talk about stage presence. He’s very proud of where Dethklok stands in a concert sense — seeing Dethklok is truly, a completely unforgettable experience — but Ghost is just… Brutal.

Performance-wise, he likes Year Zero the most — the first time he saw flames erupting over the stage, bathing you in hues of orange and white absolutely took his breath away. Any song where you get to shine is a favorite of his as well.

His favorite song overall is a toss up between Year Zero and Elizabeth, though. He likes the lyrical imagery of both, and really, what metal performer doesn’t have a soft spot for an song about Elizabeth Bathory?

He gets a bit jealous if you’re a little flirty on stage, especially because he can’t just swoop in to make his place clear, but he works through it.

He’s a little obsessed with the Era V outfits — don’t be too surprised if he gets a bit handsy when the mask comes off. Or before.

He fucking hates Plushia with a passion — he is convinced that its cursed, and will not allow him in the house.

Pickles the Drummer

Pickles LOVES Ghost once you introduce him, and not just because you’re in it. The very fun, in-your-face sexuality that comes with rituals is right up his alley, and the musical niche they fall into with regards to genre is just… Listen, he loves the heavy shit, but rock will always have a place in his heart.

Impera enjoyer till the end of his days. His favorite live song is Watcher in the Sky, both for the vibes and for how crazy you’re allowed to be on stage; however, he’s also rather partial to Mary on a Cross, for obvious reasons. It’s not his favorite musically, but he does think that the bit Papa does live is funny as fuck.

Assuming you’re a ghoul with a bit of movement, he likes to hang out with security so he can hit his vape and shotgun you from below. There are MANY videos of this circulating online, and you’ve gotta admit — it’s pretty hot. Sometimes he’ll indulge the rest of the ghouls if they try to jump on the train — he’s not greedy. Also, its funny.

He likes to suggest silly little bits to incorporate into future shows — whether or not they actually get through review is another thing, but he’s got some good ideas. He doesn’t mind if you get a bit flirty on stage either — hell, he thinks it’s hot as fuck, truth be told.

He always steals mummy bucks out of the cannons before they go off. Puts it in a money clip and everything, the bastard.

He thinks the military outfit is hot as hell, but also. You do look like a bug. And he won’t hesitate to rib you about it every now and then.

Misses Cowbell Ghoul every day of his life.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

He loves how camp Ghost is — all of the bits really make the show fun, and he loves that humor is incorporated so well. After catching enough of your Rituals, he starts bugging Nathan to incorporate some sort of spin off the “go fuck yourself” bit, and let me tell you, he’s CLOSE to getting his way.

He absolutely made fun of you when the Era V outfits got revealed… and never stopped. He loves the Era III and IV outfits so much more all around, and will never let them go. (I’m so sure that he’d like it more if he could see past the mask, but he just can’t. Quit staring at him with them big ole eyes!!!)

He still insists on tightening the bolo for you before you go on stage, though. And he secretly saves all of the gifs and videos of you on stage to watch when he misses you. So… maybe the mask does grow on him a little bit, loathe as he is to admit it.

I don’t know how to tell you this, but he 100% develops this weird, pretty one-sided rivalry with Dew. Is it because of the man beneath the mask? Is it some weird lead guitarist thing? Is it because he gets to work with you on stage, and Skwisgaar doesn’t? He’ll never tell you, but either way, he shoots some vile glares his way whenever you two interact on-stage.

There’s one particular video of Dew flashing the “you suck” sticker at him, and Skwis just glaring up a storm in response.

His favorite songs to hear live are either Mummy Dust or Cirice, and he always tries to coax you over to flirt with him a bit… and he’s usually successful He might be in the crowd at barrier, but he’s managed to cement himself as a staple of every ritual. Go figure.

(People online always complain about the giant at barrier though, please convince him to hang with security under the guise of sneaking kisses or something. People are So Sick of his tall ass, even if he does add to the show.)

Toki Wartooth

Ghost ticks so many boxes for Toki, so needless to say, he is ecstatic that you get to work with such a cool act!

His favorite album is a hard tie between Opus Eponymous and Prequelle, funnily enough. The former reminds him of his early days in metal, but he loves the overall vibes of Prequelle — very hard to choose between the two, for him.

After you introduced him to Ghost through your work, he actually delved a bit deeper, and got obsessed with Repugnant. He 100% prods you into prodding Mr. Toblerone Frog into doing more death metal stuff.

He absolutely makes bracelets to trade with fans — getting a bracelet made by Toki quickly becomes as legendary as getting a ghoul pick. Although there’s always exactly one bracelet per show that he makes with one of your spare picks that he hands out to one special person.

He has your ringtone set to If You Have Ghosts :’) He also very much loves the Ghesties bit, and there’s a nonzero chance that he’s changed your contact to be a gh- prefix of some sweet little petname he has for you.

His favorite song is easily Dance Macabre — both live and off the stage! This only doubles after the events of LA.

He saves mummy dust and confetti from every show that you do, and keeps it in his scrapbook.

He thinks the Era V outfit is really cute. You DO look like a bug… but you’re his bug :)

He has been begging for ghoul plushies since he started dating you; although, he is very happy to own a little Plushia. He thinks he’s cute.

William Murderface

Like Nathan, he has also gotten into online debates about whether or not Ghost is metal — except he takes the opposite position of Nathan. Ghost is metal as fuck to him. Listen, you don’t go on stage in front of that many people, make fun of God and everyone who worships him, and come out not being metal. Like the Satanism bit is whatever, but having the balls to go and make fun of that many people on stage? Metal.

He thought the old outfits were really boring, but he is nothing short of obsessed with Era V — for both you and Papa alike. He desperately wants a replica of Papa’s military jacket.

His favorite album overall is probably Infestissumam, but he’s also partial to Opus Eponymous. He’s been begging you to get talk Trickery Feet into getting Idolatrine on the setlist since you got him into Ghost — hell, if he ever gets the motivation to actually record Planet Piss, he’d love to do a cover of it.

Although his favorite songs to see live are probably either Mummy Dust or — after the LA show — Twenties. Twenties slides in very quick as his number one after the LA show.

He gets into arguments online about your characterization in fandom spaces, I’m sorry. He does indeed read fanfic, and he will be leaving “they would not fucking say that” comments.

He likes to banter back and forth at night about what your role would be in the clergy if you know, the whole bit was real. For someone who doesn’t give a fuck about religion, he actually puts a lot of thought into this.

[stilin-ski]

if u elaborate on cheerleader jace owlbears porter id be soo 🫶🏻🫶🏻

happily here we go:

-jace keeps his hair just a little longer than we see in canon bc he likes when the other squad members do double french braids with little bows at the ends to give it a little flair. porter also. very much likes this.

-jace has the cheer pants and the cheer skirt and wears both depending on his mood.

-porter is whatever the bloodrush equivalent to a defensive linebacker is, so he's used to getting hit and getting hit hard. that's his job, stay on defense, protect the ball, go down if he needs to. it doesn't really effect him anymore, especially since they have magic and can just do a quick cure wounds or lay on hands if anything too detrimental happens.

but jace is absolutely not okay the first time he sees porter take a hit after they start dating, and some of the other cheer squad members have to stop him from running out onto the field when a time-out is called so they can check on porter. he spends the rest of the night fussing over him after the game because he's got too much anxious energy to sit still.

-they've fucked in the locker room dozens of times, but they've only gotten caught like five times, maybe? which is a miracle on its own because they are not fucking quiet. it's always been a toss up on who threatens the poor soul who happened to walk in. most people are honestly more afraid of jace bc his magic is still very, very unpredictable at that point.

-they are very territorial over each other but they do not need to be bc everyone knows they're so crazy for each other that trying to insert themselves in their relationship is a death sentence.

-every prom they throw insane after parties. jace always spikes the punch. and they sneak off to fuck in a classroom at least twice.

-they break up once, and jace seems fine about it, but porter is a wreck. and not like... raging, throwing shit. he's just obviously so devastated and desperate to fix it, and he's constantly scanning the halls, the cafeteria, the courtyard for any sign of jace. when jace leaves his letterman in his locker, along with some old t-shirts jace had taken over the years a few days after they break up, porter openly cries about it before he goes to the gym and breaks a few punching bags. obvs they work it out within a few weeks, but porter takes it really hard and once they're back together, jace finally admits that he hadn't been sleeping much since they broke up because he didn't have anything that smelled like porter anymore and that's what had been keeping him calm when wild magic surges would hit suddenly.

-they're high school sweethearts, basically. they grow up, they get married. end up teaching at augefort. in this au they do not ever become evil, just a weird grown up version of their a little bit fucked up dynamic from high school where its like. they're in love but maybe there is such a thing as too in love, you know?