#is he like gonna beat up matthew

[ratatatastic]

"And that season (2023-24 season; Florida Panthers) what sticks out to me, obviously 20 point season but December 23, 2023 against the Vegas Golden Knights... Merry Christmas, Kolesar! I'm gonna grab ya, I'm gonna feed ya a quick right, and you're done-zo! TKO! How ya doin'? This guy is like 6 foot 6 or 6 foot 7, maybe 6'8? I don't know, let's put him at 7 feet tall, you're 5'9, dude! You're fuckin'—you're a dawg, babey! Just walk us through that though, that's a big fella." "Yeah, he's big and he's tough for sure! So it's obviously not easy to go into something like that. That was, kind-of, a little bit, settling last year's score. He was the one who hit Tkachuk and, you know, ultimately took him out of the rest of the round... We kind-of chat a little bit at the start of that game, and he asked me, 'Well, it's the new year, like that happened last year—why didn't you do something last year?' and I told him I was in a cast, my thumb was broken all playoff-long...I couldn't fight. He's like, 'Oh? Alright, let's—I'll fight ya then.' You know, whatever happened, happened. You know, obviously, Chucky comes over right after, and—That was a big win for our team this year."

The Buzz Pod | 8.7.24 (x)(x)

oh my god theyre david and goliathing him...adding more height every second...

"Earlier [Kolesar] said, you know, 'You kind-of missed your chance last season. You should've fought me then.' I told him I was in a cast—not really too much I can do about it. He was, obviously, understanding and gave me my shot there. I told Locky to take it because I'm not jumpin' in there!"

florida panthers @ vegas golden knights postgame interview | 12.24.23 (x)

the lore grows...it deepens...

[solarsturniolo]

𝖂𝖊’𝖗𝖊 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝔗𝔴𝔬

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Matt is so 'sweet best friend that secretly jerks off to your pictures' coded (idea credit to @heartstreet )

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: SMUT!!! / masturbation / voyeurism / post nut clarity / self-deprecation / intentional lowercase

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: these stories are fictional :)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3030

It slowly became a habit. It started small, one time a day if even that. But what started as a habit grew into an addiction. Every little thing set him off, and the only thing to satisfy the desire in him was her. He needed her in ways that he couldn’t even describe. He hungered for her. 

It began with pictures, just her regular little posts on Instagram and Snapchat that had no hidden undertone to them, but every single one would have Matt beating his dick until his arm was sore. She had Pavloved him. The second he got the notification that his best friend posted, his cock stiffened and his ears got red and hot just thinking about what could be waiting for him. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he’d drop everything, all of his attention would be on her in an instant. Today was no different; he had already beat off three times in the few hours he had been awake.

As the day moved forward, and he found the inner strength to keep his dick in his pants, Matt remembered telling her that he’d look for the charger she had left when she stayed over a few nights ago. He spent a solid hour that afternoon searching the house up and down for her phone charger; his room, the living room, the kitchen, Nick’s room, hell, he even checked Chris’s room (despite Chris’s many protests followed by a shoe being launched at Matt’s shin), though he still came up empty handed. 

Matt went back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat in his desk chair, rolling himself close enough to his desk to click his monitor on, grabbing the controller that had been set aside on his desk to charge. He turned his gaming console on, the sound of it whirring to life filling the silence in the room. He reached into his pocket, taking his phone out to send her a quick text.

‘i may have lost it’

‘your mind?’

‘no’

‘your keys?’

‘no’

‘OMG’

‘?’

‘YOUR V CARD?????’

‘WHAT NO’

‘omg matty who is she 🤭🤭🤭🤭’

‘I DID NOT’

‘then i fear i do not know what you could be talking about, for i am not a mind reader’

‘your weird’

‘you’re*’

‘i actually hate you.’

‘stfu you love me. now what are u talking abt’

‘you’re charger’

‘your*’

‘you know what 😀’

‘LMAOOOO don’t blow a fuse, it’s a $10 charger i’ll just get another one. thank u for letting me know tho’

‘ofc’

He stared at the screen, his heart beating faster when he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. He waited, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as she began to type. A smile tugged at his lips as the typing message bubble disappeared, waiting for the message to pop up on his screen.

A minute passed. Then two. Still nothing. Matt’s smile faltered a little.

‘?’

‘oh shit i didn’t know you were still here’

‘what we’re you typing?’

‘were*’

‘😀 nevermind i don’t care’

‘noooo matty come back 😂’

‘i’ll get it right one day’

‘i have full faith in you, matthew. until then, im gonna be up your ass about it’

‘so…?’

‘so what?’

‘what were you typing?’

Matt could hardly sit still. His leg bounced anxiously, he bit his nails impatiently. She had been typing for a while, was it something bad? Shit, have i fucked up recently and just didn’t notice?

‘nothing 😇’

‘you’re a dirty liar’

‘😜’

‘cmon, i’m youre best friend tell meeeee’

‘your*’

‘GET A NEW BEST FRIEND’

‘okay okay i’m done 😂 you’re so easy to tease’

‘Ayo 🤨’

‘not like that 🙄

‘well, you probably are pretty easy to tease like that too”

Matt choked on his own saliva. Did I read that right? He read it again, the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock. His brain short circuited. Any possible responses that he could’ve came up with dissolved into nothingness. He spent two minutes trying to type a witty comeback or some sort of smooth flirtatious reply, but when push came to shove, all he could build the courage to send was-

‘what?’

She started typing, and as the speech bubble floated in the corner of his screen, Matt palmed at the bulge in his sweats. His mind raced with thoughts, all wondering what she could have possibly been thinking about. Fuck, does she think about doing things with me? Does she want to tease me? How would she even-

The speech bubble disappeared. Matt slipped his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, taking his hard cock in his fist. He stroked his shaft slowly, his eyes fluttering shut while he pursed his lips to hold back a moan. He waited for her response to pop up. One minute…then two…then five. He furrowed his eyebrows, his strokes slowly coming to a stop as he eyed their text messages. Why isn’t she responding? Did I make her uncomfortable? Is she weirded out?

His heart nearly dropped out of his ass when the facetime notification illuminated his screen. Without thinking to take his hand out of his pants, Matt quickly answered the call.

It took a moment for the call to connect, but when it finally did, Matt felt almost frozen in place. His heart skipped a beat, his face grew flushed with a warm rosy heat. She smiled at him and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hey!”

Matt smiled. “Hey, what’s up.”

“What, I can’t call my best friend out of the blue just to hang out?” She laughed softly. “What are you up to?” She asked.

“Just, yknow…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Was playing fortnite for a bit-“

She tilted her head to the side a little, furrowing her eyebrows. “I didn’t see you online. I would’ve joined you if I knew,” she grinned. “Can’t believe you played without me,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

Matt swallowed. Her eyes looked so pretty rolled back into her head like that, I could watch her do that for hours. Matt slowly stroked his cock, pursing his lips tightly to keep himself quiet. ‘Can’t believe you played without me’ replayed in his head like a broken record. His mind wandered off, thinking about the beautiful girl on his screen sitting on his bed. Her clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly, seated on his bare thighs. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, pre-cum drooling from the tip of his cock as he imagined her pretty manicured fingers circling her clit, her eyes hooded and full of lust as lewd sounds spilled from her parted lips. His dick ached at the thought of her running her fingers through her wet folds, playing with herself in front of him, on full display just for him. ‘Can’t believe you played without me,’ her voice repeated in his head again, his mouth going dry as he thought of her looking at him with a pout while saying this, her pretty doe eyes staring at him with nothing but desire hidden behind their gaze.

He kept his strokes slow and controlled. This is so fucking wrong, he thought. If she knew…he couldn’t even think of the possibilities. She’d be disgusted, she’d be so upset. Matt would never be able to show his face in a public setting again.

“How was your day?” Matt asked in a soft voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his own voice would betray him. He watched as the smile on her face grew and he felt his heart twinge. This is so wrong. What the fuck is wrong with me.

“Aww Matty, you do care!” She teased. Matt let out a breathy chuckle, hoping she couldn’t hear the rasp in his voice. She began to list off the many side quests she endured on her day off from work, and Matt listened to every single thing she had to say. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke to him. Her lips are so pretty. Fuck, I wanna kiss her so bad. I wanna feel her lips on mine. She’d look so fucking pretty with my dick in her mouth. I wonder how much she’d be able to take. Would I have to fuck her throat to make it all fit? Would she drool on my cock while I fuck her pretty mouth?

“Matt?”

He tugged at his cock, letting out a soft exhale when he heard her voice. Please say my name again. Say my name again. It sounds so pretty coming from you, I’ve never liked my name more than when it’s being said by you. His mind wandered off once more. What positions does she like? Would she prefer missionary? She’d look so pretty under me while I fuck her, her tits would bounce so nicely with every thrust I make. Or would she want something more intense? Would she want me to take her from behind? Would she want to be in charge? What turns her on? Does she wear lingerie?

“Matt…?”

Matt grunted softly under his breath, the speed of his strokes increasing just barely enough to tell. He focused his attention back on the call. “H-Huh?”

“I asked what you did today,” she repeated. “Did you have a good day?”

It took a moment for her words to register in his brain, his mind foggy with lust and desire, his cock dripping with arousal. He gave his shaft a gentle squeeze, a low growl forming at the back of his throat. “It’s much better now,” he admitted, earning a giggle from her in return. He smiled. He loved being able to make her laugh. It was something that most people couldn’t do, but Matt did it so effortlessly. He took pride in it; even his brothers couldn’t make her laugh nearly as easily as Matt could. “Didn’t do much, just-“ he stopped, trying to think of something to say other than ‘i sat around beating off to your pictures all day’. He cleared his throat, a moan threatening to escape as the warmth in the pit of his tummy grew. “Just stayed in bed all day.”

She rolled her eyes again, and Matt felt his balls grow heavy with arousal, his thumb rubbing at his tip with each slow stroke he made. Matt’s lips parted; he wanted to moan so bad. He wanted her to see what she does to him. He wanted her to know just how badly he wanted her. His eyes became glossy as he lost himself in a daze, staring at her through the screen.

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

Matt nodded, still not taking his hand out of his pants. This is so fucking wrong. Why am I doing this? I’m risking our entire friendship. “Hey, I uh- I gotta go,” Matt stated abruptly. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go a minute without her, but if he didn’t leave the call soon, he’d end up in a world of trouble for sure.

“Oh…okay, well call me ba-“

Click.

Matt dropped his phone down onto his desk and leaned back in his desk chair, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead as a thin layer of sweat began to form at his brow. He pushed his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his cock, a moan escaping him. He tugged the bottom of his sweatshirt and t-shirt up so as to not ruin it, a ritual that had become engraved into his brain from the regular reoccurrence of it. He grunted softly, tugging at his shaft desperately, his eyes screwing shut.

I need her. I need to have her, all of her. I need to feel her and taste her. I want to be between her legs, I want to taste how sweet she is, I want to watch her fall apart from just my tongue. I want to feel her squirm and run her fingers through my hair. I want to hear her whine and beg for more. Matt fisted at his cock, his strokes much faster than before. His breathing was uneven and heavy, almost panting like an animal. He needed her, he hungered for her, he craved her. Something about it was so primal. Every time he saw her or heard her, he had a full body reaction, one that he couldn’t control even if he wanted to.

Although, he really didn’t want to.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. As if on cue, his phone vibrated on his desk. His eyes fluttered open, a lustful dazed look glazing over his irises. He picked up his phone, a notification from snapchat flashing on his screen. Never ceasing his strokes, Matt opened the app and clicked on the new snap from her. His jaw went slack, pumping his cock in his fist even faster than before. He stared at her photo for much longer than he should have, but how could he not? She had her head tilted a bit, a confused look on her face with the words ‘not even a goodbye? so mean, matty’ printed across the photo.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered. She looks so cute when she’s confused. Fuck, the things I would do to paint her face with my cum while she looks at me like that…I’d probably get put on the FBI watchlist. He knew he needed to reply back soon, not wanting her to assume he was ignoring her. He just couldn’t bring himself to tap out of the photo. His cock ached, the desire building up inside of him. “Fuck, p-please,” he breathed out. Matt threw his head back, his strokes getting impossibly faster with each passing moment. Pre-cum oozed from his tip, his fist slick with his arousal.

Another snapchat notification from her came through and Matt inhaled sharply, tapping out of the photo and clicking on the new one. Matt choked out a whine, the muscles in his bicep tightening as he began to reach his high. “Fuck-“ he grunted. His breath caught in his throat as his mind went blank, pleasure coursing through his veins. It was like a drug to him. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling; It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to it, and soon enough once a day turned into twice a day, which turned into three times a day, which turned into too many fucking times to count.

He groaned, a string of vowels passing his lips, his jaw hanging low as he watched his cum spurt from his tip. He breathed in short heavy pants, slowing his strokes to ride out his orgasm. Five ribbons of white hot cum painted his lower stomach. His dick throbbed from the intensity of his orgasm and his body shivered as he slowly came down from his high.

It took a handful of minutes for Matt to realign his senses. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his dick rested in the puddle of cum on his abdomen. He looked at his hand, his mess coating his fingers and his palm. I wonder if she’d lick my hand clean. Would she suck on my fingers? Would she look up at me with her infamous puppy dog eyes while she does it?

His eyes darted back to his phone, his heart racing as he quickly remembered that he still hadn’t replied to her. He groaned softly upon seeing her pretty face on his screen, her previous snap still on full display for him. He took another moment to admire her before tapping out of the photo. Matt quickly fixed his hair with his clean hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. He picked his phone back up and quickly snapped a photo of himself. He typed a response before sending it to her.

'Relax I'm here.'

'You costed me my battle royale.'

Matt waited for a response, not caring about the mess that still hadn’t been attended to. The nerves in his brain lit up like a Christmas tree as she opened his snap, the endorphins filling him with dopamine as she sent back another photo. He was quick to open it, not caring if she caught on to his eagerness.

'lol you're stupid. call me back when you're done :)'

He tucked his cock back into his boxers, pulling them back up along with his sweats. He stood up, holding the bottom seam of his shirt up, quickly making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He peeked out into the hallway, making sure Nick and Chris weren’t anywhere near before slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Matt cringed at the sticky feeling on his hand, quickly turning on the faucet at the sink, running his hand under the water to rinse most of his mess down the drain. He dried his hand, then grabbed a handful of tissues, cleaning up the rest of his cum before discarding the used tissues into the waste bin. He let his shirt fall down to cover his torso, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. His gaze darted away, disgusted with what he saw.

You’re a terrible friend. If she ever found out, you’d be lucky to not have a restraining order against you. What the fuck is wrong with you. How can you even call yourself her best friend. You don’t deserve her.

He left the bathroom in a hurry, slipping back into his room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. He sat back down at his desk, picking up his phone once again.

Without a second thought, he opened his facetime app, clicking on her contact. The phone only rang twice before she answered, her pretty face illuminating the screen after the call connected. Matt offered her a warm smile, propping his phone up on his desk. “Sorry I hung up on you before,” he mumbled softly, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze landed on her. He picked his headset up off of his desk, holding it for her to see. “Wanna run duos with me?”

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: omg guys, what do we think is gonna happen?

𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔰:

[sturniolohouse]

Landslide - C.S

summary: this is a a short platonic fic where chris and y/n can’t sleep and they have a heart to heart. (y/n is in relationship with matt).

A/N: i kept coming back to this draft, there was just something about it that i liked but it may not be everyone's cup of tea. working on another matt fic right now so stay tuned🫡

word count: 1.4k

-

“can i sail through the changing ocean tides? can i handle the seasons of my life?”

-

I wake up feeling hot but not being able to move. I open an eye and look down my chest to see a mop of brown hair laying just under my collarbone.

I sigh deeply realizing I’m caged in by a sleeping Matthew, half of his body on top of mine and his arm draped over my waist.

One thing I’ve told Matt since we started staying at each other’s houses is that I run hot in my sleep. But this kid always manages to find a way to touch me in his sleep. I even made him buy a fan for his room because of the fact that I cannot sleep without one on.

But tonight that fan is not doing shit and I’m trapped underneath a living furnace.

I sigh again feeling bad about moving and waking him, but I fear if I don’t move I will burst into flames.

I take another look at him and see he’s truly out cold so I may be able to get him off of me without waking him.

I reach for his hand on my left hip and lift it slowly, rolling myself away from him carefully before placing my feet to the cool wood floor.

I exhale in relief feeling myself cool down almost immediately as I look back to see him still sound asleep.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and see it’s almost 5 am. I run a hand down my face and get up slowly, walking to the door.

I might just sleep on the couch tonight.

I use the bathroom and head to the kitchen to grab a water. When I turn the light on, I see a figure on the couch from the corner of my eye.

I jump covering my mouth, "Jesus, fucking christ. You scared me." I put my hand over my heart that's about to beat out of my chest.

It’s just Chris.

"Sorry, sorry. It’s just me. I couldn't sleep." He laughs quietly, putting his hands up.

I sigh, “Me neither. Your brother was suffocating me.” I tell him, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I take two waters from the fridge, walking over to the couch and handing him one.

“Thanks,” He cracks open the cap. “Yeah, kid sleeps like a tornado.” He jokes and I shake my head.

“I was gonna sleep on the couch but you beat me to it. Weren’t you going to sleep in Nick’s room tonight?” I ask him, laying back into the cushion.

“Yeah it’s just not the same sleeping in his bed when he’s not home. So, I came down here but my mind is just…awake. Don’t know, won’t shut down I guess.” He confesses, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

Nick had spent the last couple of days with Madison since she had gotten back from tour and ended up staying at her house. And since I’ve been here, Chris has been on his own at night.

“You okay?” I ask softly, running my hand up and down his back. He gives me a tight lip smile and nods his head.

“I don’t really like the nights. They’re kinda lonely.” He shrugs as he fidgets with the label on the water bottle.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me, I know I’m grown and should be able to fall asleep in my own bed it’s just hard for me,”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“It’s just,” he pauses, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “And don’t get me wrong, y/n, I really like you. I’m so happy Matt has found someone and you two clearly love each other. It’s just I look at people like you and Matt, and you have a connection. You have a partner you can do anything with. And I look at me who can’t, or won’t, allow myself to have those things. And it’s becoming harder and harder to drown out the loneliness, but I don’t know how to let anyone in like that. I’m scared that I can’t, you know?” He confesses and my heart breaks for him.

Chris and I have a very sibling like relationship. I’m close with both of Matt’s brothers, but when I first met Chris, we were at each other's throats.

It would be stupid shit, like me drinking a can of soda from the fridge that was “his” or me being in the shower for too long or Matt driving me somewhere after he had told Chris no.

This initially caused a lot of tension between Matt and I because he was torn between defending his girlfriend and his brother. But I never made him choose between Chris and I.

"I don't know why he's being such a dick. Kid's so fucking unreasonable." Matt sighs, running a hand down his face.

"He's going to have to get used to me at some point because I'm not going anywhere." I shrug, not taking his hostility personally.

"Him and I are going to have a talk tomorrow." Matt says shaking his head.

"Just wait it out. He'll come around," I reassure him, running my hand through his hair.

I always understood that it was difficult for him to adapt to the new dynamic between his brothers once I came into the picture.

Matt spent more time with me and less time with Chris and Nick and it was a pretty big adjustment for Chris at first.

It took a few months, but with a lot of patience and giving him space, I eventually broke through to him l. And now two years in, we have a deep understanding and respect for one another.

As two important people in Matt’s life.

“This isn’t really a mindset you can force yourself into. It’s gotta happen organically. And it can happen without you even realizing. But if you keep your heart and your mind open, you’ll find someone too. Anyone would be so lucky to have you, Chris, truly. You’re fucking amazing. And I’m not just saying that.” I say with a firm voice.

He nods, “I’m just in my feelings,” He tries to lighten the mood, a small smile peeking through but all I can see is the tiredness and uncertainty weighing in his eyes.

He’s not looking to deepen the conversation, but rather just looking for an ear to listen to his fears.

I listened, that’s all he needs.

“You want me to play with your hair to make you sleepy? Usually does the trick for me.” I offer with a soft smile.

He wordlessly puts his head in my lap and I run my fingers through his messy hair. Combing through the tiny tangles and knots.

“You need a haircut, kid.” I say and he flips me off without looking at me.

“I know, haven’t had the time.” He mumbles, shuffling and getting more comfortable.

Chris rarely lets anyone see his bad moments, let alone anyone but his brothers. But he’s been able to be vulnerable around me.

I’m there for him as much as he lets me. Even if it’s scratching his head so he can get some sleep.

He’s not always the loud, goofy person people see on camera.

Maybe 10 minutes passes and I start to hear the birds chirping outside and the beginning of sunrise is evident through the cracks of the shades.

I feel Chris begin to get heavier and sink deeper into the couch next to me.

“If you want, you’re more than welcome to take my spot in Matt’s bed.” I laugh softly and I hear him chuckle lowly as he shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.”

Soon enough his breathing slows completely and I know he’s asleep. I lay my head back and try to get as comfortable as I can, seeing as I’m stuck again.

When I close my eyes I hear Matt’s door creak open and see him peak out around the corner.

He spots me on the couch before giving me a confused look. I nod my head towards Chris on my lap, quietly showing I’m trapped. A small sleepy smile creeps on his face as he shakes his head and makes his way over to sit next to me.

"I was wondering where you went." He says lowly, his voice laced with sleep.

“Came out here because I was overheating and this kid couldn’t sleep either,” I whisper laying my head on his shoulder and yawning.

He hums, “Hmm, you scratched his head?” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him.

“Yup.”

“Works every time.”

[cherrycolored-punk]

walking distance - E.M x fem!reader

Part of Stranger Prompts directly from the twilight zone organized by: @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing

“You step into a hole-in-the-wall bar for a drink and suddenly find yourself in a different decade.”

-

author’s note: this was so damn fun 🖤 I’ve always wanted to do one but was worried my writing wasn’t up to par. I hope you enjoy :)

w/c: 2.6k

warnings: none

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

The sun beats down on you, intense and overwhelming. Adding to the frustration you feel as you stare down at the guts of your car, watching steam billow from beneath the hood and unsure of what you’re looking at.

You let out an exasperated growl and reach for your phone, hurried fingers scrolling for your best friend’s name.

Her wedding was in two days, and you were supposed to be the maid of honor. You couldn’t afford the plane ticket from New York City to Indianapolis and decided to road trip it, hoping to the gods that your shitty Honda Civic would make it. But of course, it would betray you when you were nearly there.

There was a weekend of festivities planned, maid of honor duties you needed to attend to, and there was no telling when you’d be there now.

She answers on the second ring, and you waste no time.

“Hey, I’m going to be late,” you grumble, pushing away from the car and pacing in front of the bumper.

“What happened?” She can hear the thick annoyance in your voice.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you point an absent hand to the car as though she can see it.

“My piece of shit car broke down,” you glance around at your surroundings. At the dense rows of trees and open fields.

“And in the middle of fucking nowhere!” Sweat trickles down your chest, and you wipe it away quickly, trying not to lose your shit.

“Where are you?” She asks, and you already feel bad that you’re bothering her with this. You turn the phone in your hand and place the call on speaker, switching the screen to the GPS app you’d been using.

“Says I’m in some town called Hawkins? About two hours out,” your shoulders deflate as you try to calculate the time it will take to even get this to a mechanic to look at. Three hours for a tow, however long for a fix, and you’d be lucky to make it in time to watch her come down the aisle.

“I’m so sorry, Jess.”

“We’ll get you here. I need you here,” she practically pleads, and you can already picture how her soon-to-be mother-in-law is driving her insane.

“Get somewhere safe and send me your location. Matthew will come pick you up with his tow.”

Her brother, the mechanic.

“He’s not gonna like that,” you chuckle, kicking a loose rock away from your path.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m the bride,” she enunciates the word dramatically, and you can’t help but laugh. She was far from a bridezilla, but she was willing to be one for you.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely and scroll on the map for a nearby restaurant or bar. Desperate for a drink after the road trip turned debacle.

“I’ll be at some bar called The Hideout? Closest thing to my car, about half a mile up the road,” you forward her your location and take her off speaker, pulling the phone to your ear.

“If I end up getting kidnapped by some inbred psychos like in Wrong Turn, you better not let them make a 20/20 episode out of me,” you joke as you reach for your purse and grab your keys.

“But what if I promised only the good photos?” She goes along.

“As long as you don’t say I lit up every room I walked into.”

“Why would I lie?” She teases and you can’t help the shocked laugh it elicits.

“Asshole,” you say affectionately, closing the hood of your car and pressing the key fob to make sure it’s locked.

“Can’t call me that on my wedding weekend,” she reminds you, and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I apologize, oh mighty one. I will only be a humble servant,” you exaggerate your voice to be meek and small, keeping up the charade.

“Shut up,” she giggles, and you can feel the roll of her eyes.

“Let me know when you make it,” she orders.

“Of course,” you promise and disconnect the line, legs picking up pace.

The road to the Hideout is much the same as the road to its city line; flat fields and rows of corn seemingly stretch on for eternity until they hit the tall evergreens in the distance. From the looks of it, that’s all Hawkins is: a stretch of corn and towering trees. It’s different than what you’re used to, quieter. You hadn’t heard a silence like the one that you felt now.

It would be peaceful if it didn’t feel so eerie, and you couldn’t explain why you felt that way, why the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, or why it felt like you were being watched. 

A set of eyes you couldn’t locate watching your every move.

Your legs move faster, heart leaping when you see the building come into view. The sign bearing its name a little worse for wear but it was like a beacon on the long stretch of road.

The building itself is a little dilapidated and in major need of an overhaul. Its brown wood faded by years in the sun and slightly rotted in some spots. If the open sign didn’t glow, you’d assumed it was abandoned.

You swing open the door, a chill running through your back as the cold manufactured air hits your warm, sweat-slicked skin.

Faces turn toward you, curious gazes shifting over your frame before turning away from you.

A smoky haze fills the bar, the stench of tobacco and weed filling your lungs as you breathe in.

The interior is out-of-date; the red vinyl seats of the booths are cracked, their yellow stuffing overflowing. Records line the wall, and dollar bills hang where they are tacked sporadically to the ceiling. A red Coors Light sign glows in the distance.

You swat the air, trying to find a clean patch amongst all the smoke as your eyes dance around the bar suspiciously. Was it decades night?

Everyone is dressed in something you’ve seen in a John Hughes film. Big hair, bright blush, tight jeans. Some were dancing to a Madonna song playing on the jukebox in the corner of the bar. Others sat quietly along the bar.

You’re still staring as you slide onto the barstool, forearm pressed into the sticky wood of the bar.

“What can I get you?”

The bartender’s sudden appearance makes you jolt, and you place a hand on your chest as you turn toward the voice.

“Something other than the heart attack you just gave me,” you exhale loudly and meet his gaze. Doing your best to contain your shock.

He’s pretty, the kind of good-looking that leaves you a little breathless. It’s the curl of his hair, the line of his jaw, and the freckles pressed along his nose. It’s the way his cheeks are growing red the longer you stare and the cocky grin that slots into place when he notices you are.

“I can do that for the pretty girl,” he laughs, raising his eyebrows expectantly, and you shake your head of your reverie.

“Just a Dos Equis, dressed if you can.”

“Dressed?” He repeats.

“Yeah, uh, salt on the rim. Lime?” You move your hands in demonstration, miming the movements of prepping your drink, and he chuckles. Shaking his head at your display.

“Best I can do is a bottle of Bud Light,” he places a toothpick between his lips, and you swear it’s to torture you.

“Guess that’s what I’m having then,” you shrug, smiling sweetly, and tap your fingers against the bar.

“Coming right up,” the bartender turns his back to you, and you check your cell phone. 

No service. Of course.

You groan and look up, eyes instantly running over his back appreciatively.

His black shirt fits him snugly and you can see the muscles of his back, the contours of his biceps bulging against the tight sleeves. The black jeans he wears fit him just right, showcasing the curve of his ass and the swell of his thighs. God, they didn’t make them like this in New York. Is it something in the water?

He turns back toward you with the bottle of beer. The glass already wet with condensation when he slides it toward you.

“How much do I owe you?” You reach for your wallet, and he shakes his head.

“Money’s no good here,” he dismisses you and leans against the bar. Closer to you. His gaze crawls over you, tracing the length of your legs and the flare of your hips before meeting your eyes.

“Well, I can at least tip you,” you pause, waiting for his name and trying to hide how his gaze affects you.

“Eddie,” he grins, toothpick sliding from one side of his mouth and to the other.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you repeat and slide the five-dollar bill towards him.

His eyebrow quirks, and you tilt your head curiously, following the direction of his gaze. It’s fixated on the money you slid him.

“What is it?”

He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a bill, placing it next to yours.

“Your money looks funny,” he pushes them towards you so you can see.

Your eyes dart between the two. His money looks brand new but bears little resemblance to the more colorful one you’d given him.

“You trying to give me Monopoly money or something?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

“You just have an older bill,” you point to his money, giggle, and sip your beer. The malty, amber liquid slides across your tongue and settles into your empty stomach.

His gaze roams over your features again.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” He gives a crooked smile, one that makes the dimple in his cheek deepen.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle and take another drink, eyebrow quirked as you wait for his response.

“Definitely don’t look like the girls around here,” he shakes his head and points his hand towards you.

“Oh?” Your brows push together. Not sure whether or not that’s a compliment.

“In a good way!” His words come out rushed, the suave demeanor he had faltering just a little.

“How is it good?” Your eyes squint in suspicion as you take another drink. Enjoying the way he squirms, maybe a little too much.

He glances over your form once more and then back at you. 

“The clothes, the hair, fancy money. Gotta be one of those California chicks, huh?”

“Not even,” you shake your head, but a grin tugs at your lips, “I’m from New York. Just passing through for a friend’s wedding.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle.

“City girl,” he smiles and inches a little closer, “lucky me that you’re passing through.”

“Lucky you?” You repeat, trying to fight the smile behind the rim of your drink.

“Yeah, not every day we get a pretty face in here,” his voice lowers, “I usually see the same five drunks.”

His brown eyes dart to your left, and he eyes the older man sitting on the stool a few seats down. You almost choke on your drink and shake your head, but the man’s appearance reminds you of your surroundings. You glance around the bar.

“So, is everyone always this committed to the decades night?” You look back at him.

His face twists, puzzled, an absent hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you mean?”

You point the mouth of your bottle absently towards the room.

“It’s like straight out of an eighties movie in here, feels like I’m in St. Elmo’s Fire or something,” you chuckle and look back toward him.

Eddie’s face is still contorted, confusion evident in the scrunch of his brow and the twist of his lips.

“That movie just came out, like, three years ago,” he chuckles but gives you a curious look as he wipes a rag against the counter.

“More like forty years ago,” you shake your head. They were really committed to the bit here.

“Got an interesting way of perceiving time there, sweetheart,” he shrugs incredulously and changes the subject.

“I know my way around a car if you want me to look at it,” he offers.

“Oh, it’s half a mile back. It’s okay,” you wave him off, but he’s already shaking his head.

“We can take my car. All my tools are in there anyways.”

“Are you sure?” You can feel the guilt twisting in your gut at the thought of accepting his offer. It’s mixed with the worry of getting into the car with a stranger—your earlier comment about 20/20 ringing in your head.

“‘Course,” he tilts his head towards the other bartender, “Brett can watch the bar while we’re gone.”

But there’s something about Eddie that doesn’t scream serial killer, a softness in his gaze that relaxes you. Has you nodding your head before the words come tumbling out.

“Yeah, okay,” your head bounces eagerly, and you chug the rest of the beer before hopping off the stool.

It was an opportunity to get to Jess’ wedding festivities sooner, though, now you kind of wanted to stick around. Wait until Matthew finally makes an appearance so you can spend a little longer getting to know Eddie.

He meets you around the bar, taller now that he’s standing beside you. The smell of his cologne warm and a little hypnotizing. He swirls his keyring around his finger and points toward the door.

“Lead the way.”

You grin up at him, taking a step in front of his tall frame and push open the doors.

The warm summer air greets you, the sky no longer a vivid blue but a deep indigo. You look around, confused. Headlights approach you, breaks slamming when the passenger window passes your fram. You recognize the truck, Matthew’s tow truck.

His work boots slam against the pavement, and he takes long strides in your direction.

“Jesus Christ! Where the fuck have you been?”

“W-what?”

“I’ve been calling you for half an hour, going up and down this goddamn street. Called you like forty times.”

You reach for your phone and stare at the screen, its face filled with notifications. Missed call after missed call and several texts.

“I was just getting a drink, didn’t have signal in the bar,” you point an absent thumb behind you, “Eddie here was going to help me get my car started.”

“Eddie?” Brett’s face screws in confusion.

“Yeah, Eddie,” you repeat and turn around. But no one’s there. The bar behind you silent, empty. Abandoned.

“What are you talking about?” The older man’s voice is laced with concern, “This town has been abandoned for nearly forty years since some major earthquake practically ripped it in half.”

“B-but I was just sitting in there talking. I just sat down,” you say with more conviction. You can still smell Eddie’s cologne, still hear his laugh, and taste the beer you were drinking. Your mind is reeling, trying to make sense of it.

“Think the heat got to you,” he laughs and shakes his head, “get in the truck, I’ll take you to Jess’.”

Your feet move towards the truck hesitantly, face turned towards the bar. It looks more run-down than before. The entry covered with cobwebs, stools toppled over, the bottles that lined the back wall of the bar cracked and broken.

The same eerie feeling settles over you, like you’re being watched. Like maybe you weren’t alone.

You climb into the truck and settle into the seat, staring absently out the windshield.

“I swear I was just in there drinking a beer,” you point a finger out the window and turn to him.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s encountered a ghost in Hawkins,” he shrugs and starts the car before turning back to you, “stranger things have happened.”

[turcott3]

good looking

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, fluff, kissing, pet names

oh my good looking boy…

masterlist

-

“matt?” you call out as you hear your apartment door shut from your bed. you heard keys drop in the bowl and that answered your suspicion. the rangers had just lost the day prior and he was just coming back home.

“matt?” you ask again, getting out of bed walking out into your living room, “baby?”

“i’m home.” he smiles, revealing the flowers he’d bought for you on his short trip from the airport.

“awe matty you didn’t have to.” you frown sweetly at the gesture, taking the flowers from his hands.

“i wanted to, i missed you.” the brunette says lowly, towering over you. you noted the stitches in his nose. his face a little swollen from his fight last night that he’d unfortunately fallen short in.

“i missed you too.” you reply as he leans down kissing you gently on the lips.

“you go get settled, i’ll take care of these fucking gorgeous flowers and dinner, okay?” you say running a careful finger over the cut on his face which he winced slightly at the touch.

“okay.” he smiled lightly.

“looks like he got you good.” you giggled.

“yeah well can’t win em all. i was exhausted.” he sighs.

“i’ll step in next time, can’t let em beat up my good looking boy.” you smile sweetly, placing a light hand on his cheek.

“would you still love me even if my face gets pounded? entirely theoretical by the way.” he giggles lightly.

“yes matt, i would. even when you had a broken nose and black eyes you were still the most handsome man i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you reply with no hesitation as he lifts you off the ground in a hug.

“god i love you.” he says placing a kiss on your head, “i’m gonna unpack, when i’m done i’ll come help you with dinner, okay baby?”

“okay, no rush.” you say as he kisses you one last time before dragging his bags into your bedroom. you start dinner with a huge smile on your face. the way he made you feel was, undeniably, the feeling of true love. the way you get butterflies every time he walks in the room, the sweet gestures such as giving you flowers or a writing you a letter and left it for you when he leaves for morning practice. it all made you grow more and more in love with him everyday. you didn’t know how you could possibly be more in debt to him even though he did it out of the kindness of his heart, not to get something back from you.

“let me take over. go change, i got you something.” he says sneaking up behind you, placing delicate hands on your waist and leaning his head in the crook of your neck.

“just stir it every now and then.” you reply kissing him on the cheek and escaping his grasp, quickly walking to your bedroom. laid out on the bed was a satin pajama set, the exact one you’ve been talking about since you saw it at the mall at least a month ago.

“he remembered.” you scoff, your heart growing warm. you quickly discard your clothes, changing into the silky satin of your new pajamas. you looked at yourself in the mirror, loving the way it complimented your skin tone. confidently, you walked back out into the kitchen.

“matthew rempe.” you say startling him.

“what happened?”

“are you serious? i’ve been talking about these for so long and you remembered?” you say as a smile grows on his face.

“well yeah, of course i did.”

“oh thank you thank you thank you. i love them so much.” you say walking over to him quickly wrapping your arms around him. soon enough you were enveloped in his large, loving arms once again.

“i’m glad, you look beautiful.” he giggles.

-

“dishes are done.” matt smiles waltzing into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

“can i take a look at the cut on your face?” you ask, stopping him in his tracks.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to-“

“no come on,” you say throwing the covers off of you. he takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and separates his legs for you to stand between. you take your place between his legs taking his face into your hands and brush his hair out of the way. his arms find their way around your legs, holding you lightly in place. you scanned the cut, noting that they had simply stitched him up and sent him on his way.

“they really stitched you up and sent you back out didn’t they?” you ask.

“yeah.”

“hold one second, i just want to clean it and put a bandaid on it so it doesn’t look so gnarly.” you say, tapping his arm to let you go. you dig under the sink finding alcohol and cotton balls, as well as a bandaid.

“it’s gonna burn.” you state holding the soaked cotton ball.

“try me.” he simply replied and you shrug pressing it straight onto the cut. his grip on your legs tightened and he clenched his eyes shut at the contact.

“okay just kidding.” he says, clearly in pain.

“i told you honey.” you laugh pressing a kiss to the top of the boys head. you cleaned him up and perfectly placed the bandaid on top of the cut, kissing it once it was laid flat.

“much better.” you smile locking eyes with the boy, who you swear was giving you literal heart eyes.

“thank you my love.” he says kissing you delicately on the cheek before following closely behind you on your way back into the room.

“come here you big baby.” you laugh leaning your back slightly up against the headboard, waiting for the 6’7 baby to take his place on your chest, which he of course did very quickly.

“thank you for cleaning my cut and taking care of me y/n.” he says quietly as you run your fingers gently through his brown locks.

“and thank you for loving me the way you do.” he continues, leaning up to look at you.

“it’s hard not to, i’d do anything for you matt. it’s a privilege to know you, let alone love you.” you giggle

“my beautiful girl.” he sighs with a smile as he kisses you lovingly before laying his head back down on your chest carefully.

“i love you matt.” you say with your hand finding its way back into his soft hair.

“i love you so much more baby.” he replies, his hands finding their way underneath you.

“you’re about to go to sleep on me aren’t you?”you ask noticing his breathing slowing down.

“yep.” he replies quietly, allowing the sleepy boy to drift off to sleep in the comfort of your embrace.

-

[moonlightspencie]

bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

—————

dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby

[jackhues]

karma - auston matthews

notes: this is based off of @matthewshisch's idea (karma is the guy on the leafs)! so s/o to her <3 also, reader is a singer :)) AND gif not mine !

likes are good, reblogs are better!

being a celebrity meant that no matter what, one thing would always be a fixed thing in your life. and that was the rumours.

one week you were dating a new guy. the next, you were engaged to some kid from your hometown. the next week, you were back with your ex.

no matter what, the dating rumours always flew around you. maybe the fact that you never made it public with anyone fuelled those even more. whatever the case, it was funny reading them.

especially when you thought about what you had planned for tonight.

a knock sounded on your door, followed by a familiar voice, "did someone order some flowers?"

you couldn't help the smile growing on your face as you made eye contact with auston in the mirror.

you were in your dressing room at the stadium, getting ready for the opening night of your multi-month tour. you'd worked hard to get to where you were now -- one of the most successful female artists in the world.

and right there by your side, supporting you for the past year, was none other than auston matthews, your boyfriend. you'd met at a leafs game years ago, but he'd only reached out to you just over a year before. ever since then, the two of you kept your relationship under wraps for the most part, doing your best to just enjoy your time together without the media's comments.

you'd talked about going public before, but for the most part, decided to let life take it's course. of course... tonight would be a pretty big surprise.

"hi, you made it," you got up from your chair, sinking into his arms for a hug.

"i wouldn't miss this for the world," he responded, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "it's my girl's big day. first tour in almost three years. nothing's gonna stop me from being here."

you grinned stupidly to yourself, finding auston's words so comforting and sweet. even after a whole year, he managed to make you feel giddy.

"i'm really happy you're here," you whispered, pulling away. "oh! i've got a surprise for you, but i can't give it to you right now. i'll give it after, okay?"

"a surprise for me?" auston repeated. "it's your day."

"hush, i wanted to do it," you said.

another knock sounded on your door, and your assistant, jenny, poked her head in. "y/n, we've got to start in ten. let's go. auston, mark's got your seat saved. head over quick, or someone'll spot you."

"that's not a big deal," auston waved it off. "if someone spots me, they spot me. it's not the end of the world."

"well, fact remains, we need y/n right now," she said. "c'mon, you can have her back when she's done her show."

"i'll see you soon," you kissed auston, before following jenny out to your position.

you adjusted your earpiece, waiting for the lights to dim. as soon as they did, the platform you were standing on moved higher, allowing you to enter directly on stage.

the lights turned back on, and the crowd went wild.

"let the show begin," you whispered to yourself.

---

"'cause karma is the thunder," you sang, "rattling your ground. karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter. karma's gonna track you down."

the crowd waved their flashlights in the air, following you as you continued dancing to the beat of the song, singing along. getting closer and closer to the surprise you planned for auston.

"step by step from town to town," you continued. "sweet like justice, karma is a queen. karma takes all my friends to the summit..."

you paused for half a second, allowing production to ready themselves and for the crowd to pay attention to the small change.

"karma is the guy on the leafs, coming straight home to me!"

you stomped on the mark, blue sparklers going off on either side of the stage -- matching with the colour of your dress and the leafs' colours.

the crowd screamed as you continued your performance, losing their minds at the confirmation that you and auston were dating.

"cause karma is my boyfriend," you locked eyes with auston in the crowd, noticing him smiling widely to himself as people nearby recorded the interaction. winking at him, you continued your song, "karma is a god."

the crowd continued chanting throughout the song, no one truly getting over the lyric change you'd done.

you had a feeling there were gonna be rumours about this for a while.

---

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

join my main taglist!

[diorsluv]

feather , part 18

“ your signals are mixed ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by luca.fantilli, dylanduke25, jackhughes, and 37,976 others

yourusername tell me that we’ll be just fine

view all comments

username15 FUCK IM SO CONFLICTED. THE TAYLOR REFERENCE BUT THIS POST IS HER AND BANK ROBBER

username67 wait ok but seeing her torn up like this is NOT okay

_alexturcotte oh no

lhughes_06 even when u lose ur mind?

→ yourusername tell me that it’s not my fault

username89 GODDDD the fact that luke knows the reference and finished it for her 💔

→ username27 fr it was luke NOT baxter ❌

username23 she and luke need to be together i’m begging

trevorzegras TAYLOR SWIFT

→ yourusername mama taylor 🫡

username58 i don’t like this booker guy and for good reason, like he can’t be out here breaking my girl’s heart like this

username33 ok but luke has that missseraphina girl or whatever her @ is

adamfantilli the matching stitch costumes

jamie.drysdale ily and i’ll always support you but you know what i think and i think it’s time you take my advice

liked by yourusername

username9 lets talk abt how she only responded to two people and one of them was luke

edwards.73 you know we’re here for you

markestapa i’ll beat his ass i swear to god

username71 stop they’re so protective of her

mackie.samo say the word and we’ll be there

username45 tbh the insta drama is kind of embarrassing

username68 she’s not acting like herself and it’s all because of HIM

username34 idgaf what balthazar thinks he can get away with but ik it aint this

username8 fuck bjorn

yourusername

liked by mackie.samo, colecaufield, _quinnhughes, and 88,117 others

yourusername finally posting the lakehouse pics i was gatekeeping for months 🫣🫣

tagged: jackhughes, trevorzegras, _quinnhughes

view all comments

dylanduke25 MARSHMALLOWS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIREEEE

→ markestapa it’s chesnuts not marshmallows

→ dylanduke25 i know. 😐.

→ yourusername JACK FROST (hughes) NIPPING ATTTTTT YOUR LIPS

username46 are we just gonna pretend like that post from this morning never happened??

→ username59 if she does it, we do it

trevorzegras I MADE IT ON THE MAIN AGAIN!!!!

→ yourusername trev sweetie you gotta stop acting like i don’t post you constantly

username31 is that luke’s back or quinn’s back

→ yourusername it’s quinn!

colecaufield there’s no way you got QUINN to tan with you

→ _quinnhughes bro you were there when she took the pics

→ colecaufield oh was i??

→ _alexturcotte nah it was me rmb i’m the only one that’s seen her recently

→ colecaufield STOP RUBBING IT IN MY FACE

mackie.samo we never see you post yourself anymore 😔

→ yourusername i’m more focused on the scenery around me matthew.

→ mackie.samo OKAY OKAY u didn’t have to pull out the government name

→ markestapa she’s lying she just doesn’t have enough storage on her phone anymore

username26 that pic of jack and quinn i’m dyingggg

jackhughes remember when you burned 12 marshmallows in a row

→ yourusername remember when you said you were in love with me when you got drunk for the first time

→ jackhughes YO

→ _quinnhughes yeah how the hell do you burn that many marshmallows consecutively

lhughes_06 oh so am i just banned from all your posts now

→ yourusername 👎

username83 PLEASE I NEED MORE LAKEHOUSE POSTS

username15 didn’t quinn accidentally post jack trying to drown her on his public story once 😭

→ username2 WHAT.

next chapter notes ) a little tamer than the past few chapters, AND WE’RE GETTING RID OF BOOGER SOON SO LET’S CELEBRATE

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 3]]

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

Summary:

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

pt: 1 | 2 |

words: 9.1k

You change aspects of your outfit about seven times before you finally settle on something you deem acceptable.

You know the meeting isn't about you, but you can't help but want to dress nicely. But not too nicely that this will no longer be a casual lunch. You choose one of your nicer t-shirts with your nice jeans and try to be fancy by doing a French tuck, but kind of ruin the vibe by pairing it all with your walking sneakers. Minnie picked them out and they are obnoxiously neon orange, but they are incredibly comfortable and supportive. It's warm out, so you do something with your hair that is simple and won't get in the way. 

You even dabble in some make-up. Nothing fancy but enough that you no longer look a little too tired. 

Minnie, of course, is perceptive to your nerves and also wants to Dress Up. This, of course, means her Princess dress and you want her in a good mood, so you turn your daughter into a giant pink and yellow cupcake. She is absolutely thrilled to be able to wear it out so getting all packed up and ready to go goes smoothly.  You debate telling her that you are going to meet someone but ultimately decide against it. She's already picked up on how nervous you are. If you tell her she will be meeting a new person, she might start getting upset and you aren't going to chance ruining her mood. So you bundle her into her stroller and start towards the diner at a quarter 'til eleven.

You want to get there early and get all settled before Matt arrives - maybe get a few doodles in on the sketchbook you've packed so Minnie is nice and distracted. It is a pretty day out and you take your time as you walk, not wanting to get all sweaty after dressing up. 

It is a route you've taken many times before, so you let your mind wander as you stroll. 

You had needed a full day to process that you had found Minnie's father and he wanted to be in both of your lives. It recontextualized so much. You had spent your entire evening reading 'how to co-parent' articles and making lists - you now had about three pages filled with your daughter's likes and dislikes, contact information for anyone Matt might need to reach out to, and multiple different schedules. Your plan is to make him a huge binder, filled with whatever he might need to know. 

You don't know if you are going overboard or not but this is how you are dealing with everything. 

You don't exactly have anyone you can reach out to to talk with. You aren't close enough with anyone who you would feel comfortable opening up to about Matt. You know you should probably find a therapist but there is no way you can afford one.

To be fair, you aren't even sure how you feel about everything. You put your emotions aside to deal with all the practical changes and to focus on your daughter's well-being. Despite all your anxieties, everything has been going as well as you think it should go. You've only had two conversations, but you are hoping the trend continues. You desperately want Minnie to smothered with people who adore her because you never had that and you pray Matt wants the same. 

As you cross into Hell's Kitchen, your heart starts beating a little harder in your chest. You can't fight your nerves, so you try to channel them into something productive. 

"Do you know where we're going, Mouse?" You ask as you wait at a corner.

"Chicky waffles!" is the excited response, making you chuckle.

"Exactly, we're gonna go have some chicky waffles," you say with a little smile. Chicken and waffles is a featured menu item at the diner and for some reason considered your daughter's Celebration Meal. "And if you aren't too sleepy afterwards, we can do something fun."

Minnie gives an excited wiggle in her stroller, "I wanna see the duckies!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, we can go see the duckies after lunch." You are hoping the promise of something she wants to do will come with the desire to behave, even if she starts to get fussy. You know you can't stop a tantrum if meeting Matt does truly upset her, but you can try your best to deter them. 

You are being overly precautious. You know you are, but you couldn't turn your mind off if you tried. 

You've long accepted your fate and just try to navigate your anxiety the best you can.

As Minnie lists off what she's named all the ducks, you debate coming up with some talking points for her and Matt. You doubt they have similar interests, though you know that doesn't mean much - as you don't have similar interests as your daughter - but animals and food are easy discussions. You worry when it comes to art, things may get a little harder.

You have no idea how to explain blindness to Minnie. You are really hoping that Matt has that experience and can help her understand. After all, you don't actually know how much he can see. You know he needs Braille - his flirting at the holiday party all those years ago had been to ask you to read the drink menu to him - and uses a cane, but that doesn't mean he can't see shapes and such. You definitely do not want to speak for him about his abilities.

Maybe afterwards you can look up some videos to help Minnie understand better. There's a plethora of resources online, you just need to know what to look for - a jumping off point. Blind parents with Seeing children are not a new thing and you bet you can find a bunch of tactile art projects beyond folding paper that would suit Minnie's age. 

The diner comes into view and you sigh in relief over the lack of a crowd. Maybe the Fates had smiled on you and everyone else would find somewhere else to have lunch. There is no one standing around outside, so you use the space to take Minnie out of her stroller. Instantly she tries to help you unpack, dragging her backpack out of the little storage area under the seat. You grab your purse and a collapsible booster seat, then start to fold up the stroller while she patiently waits.

She's still too small to pull open the heavy glass door of the diner, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She tugs on it twice before you are able to help her. She beams up at you and you return your little girl's smile as you enter the diner.

"Oh, well don't you look special," the waitress, Linda, says as she comes around the counter with some menus. You are convinced she must live above the diner because she is always there - but it also means Minnie is comfortable with her, so your daughter does a little twirl to show off her dress.

"We're gonna see the ducks!" 

"I see," Linda coos, "Well in that case, you're going to need a nice lunch to fill you up. Lemme see now, it looks like your booth is all open, so why don't we get you all settled in?"

Minnie takes off across the diner to the booth while you lean the stroller in the corner where you've been told you can store it. Once that is done, you head over to the booth. 

Linda places a menu where you will be sitting and as you slide into the seat next to Minnie, you ask for an additional menu in Braille. She looks a little surprised at the request, but doesn't question it and the menu is quickly placed across from you.

Minnie doesn't pay attention to the second menu at all, focused on pulling out her crayons and paper. She knows as long as she doesn't make a mess she's allowed to play on the table here and she doesn't waste any time getting right to it. 

"What do you want to drink, sweet pea?" Linda asks. 

"Lemonade, please, thank you!" Minnie answers like a little princess. Linda smiles at the response and asks the same to you, without the term of endearment. 

"An iced tea, please," you reply. You wait until she turns to go back behind the counter to pop open the booster seat. You set it on the seat beside Minnie and she carefully climbs into it before going back to laying out her crayons. 

"Do you want chicky waffles?" You ask Minnie. She shakes her head, ignoring you in favor of starting to scribble. You wait a few moments, giving her a chance to think and reply but that doesn't happen. You say her name, then repeat the question.

"No, I want grilled cheese," she says, looking up, "with fruit. Please. Thank you."

"With fruit?" You confirm, a little amused at the declaration. She nods and goes back to her work. 

You refuse to check the time. You know as soon as you do you'll spiral into an anxiety attack, so instead, you drag the menu over to you and start reading it over. You don't really know what you want - your stomach is more nerves than hunger. 

Linda drops off your drinks with a little smile, "I'll be back for your orders."

"Thank you," both you and Minnie say. 

You fall into a silence, half looking over the menu and half watching Minnie drag her crayon over the page. She's got the yellow one in her little fist and you wonder what could be going on in that head of hers. You hope her thoughts are good ones - all about ducks and cupcakes and magical things and no worries exist.

The bell above the door to the diner chimes after about two minutes and you look up as Matt walks in. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds hard. 

There is no argument about whether or not Matt is physically attractive - he's gorgeous and could easily be a model if he wanted to be - but you can tell that Effort was put in that morning. 

His scruff is trimmed down to a neat five o'clock shadow and his hair is a little fluffy like he's run his hand through it a few times. He's sporting a leather jacket, black tee shirt, slacks, and wing tips - he looks casual but cool. He's so incredibly handsome and for a moment you question if you're right about him being Minnie's father.

There is no way this man took you to bed. You think you're pass-ibly attractive, but he's on a whole other level of hot. 

You are so busy ogling him it doesn't register right away you need to alert him to your whereabouts. Linda makes a bee line right for him, exchanging words you can't hear. She turns to look at you, one brow raising up in question. In response, you raise your hand in acknowledgement. She nods then leads Matt over to your booth. You finally notice he is holding a pink medium sized gift bag and you can't help but wonder what is inside.

He stops at the edge of the table, brushing his fingers over it to find the boundaries. You speak first, to let him know where you are.

"Hi." 

It comes out far shyer than you mean and Linda gives a pointed 'are you serious' face.

It doesn't matter because he replies just as shyly, "Hi." 

"Um, the seat to your right is empty, with a menu in the middle of the table," you direct. Minnie looks up at him and you watch her watch him fold his cane and slip into the seat. You can tell she is curious, but cautious. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The elderly waitress asks and Matt asks for coffee. She then turns to go fetch that, leaving your new little family to finally meet each other.

You clear your throat and start the introductions, "Minnie, this is Matt. He is going to be our new friend. Can you say hi?"

She's quiet for a few seconds before mumbling out, "Hello."

Matt completely lights up at the greeting. His smile gets so big and boyishly happy you have to bite your lip so you don't break out into your own smile. 

"Hi, Minnie. It's…it's so nice to meet you." 

Your daughter presses the fist clutching the crayon to her mouth as she looks Matt over. Her little eyes dart all over his features before she turns her head to look up at you. Her brow scrunches up in a way you know means she wants to ask something, so you gently prompt her.

"Do you want to ask something, Mouse?"

She gives a barely there nod. 

"Okay. You can take your time. Is that okay, Matt?" You say, gently redirecting the conversation back to him.

"Take your time," Matt tells her, his voice so soft and sweet. Encouraging.

She squirms in her seat and you quickly offer up your hand so she can hold onto it. She grabs your hand with her non-dominant one and squeezes tightly, needing the anchor to know everything will be okay - only then does she talk, her mouth hidden behind fist and crayon. 

"You're Mommy's friend?" 

Matt nods, smile still on his face, "I am. Or I hope to be. I'd like to be your friend, too."

Minnie rocks side to side in her booster seat, still looking over Matt like she's trying to parse out his motive. Despite not being able to see her contemplating, Matt waits patiently until the next question comes.

"Is it…your Birthday?" She asks after about ten seconds.

Matt shakes his head, his smile going from bright to a little softer, "No, it's not. This," he picks up the gift bag and places it in front of Minnie on the table, "is for you."

Her head automatically turns to look up at you with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission. You gently squeeze her hand, "You can open it."

She pulls away from you and reaches out to pull the bag closer. It's too tall on the table for her to see into, so she very very gently, like she's scared it will break, tips it over onto its side. The packing tissue matches the bag and your little one gets distracted by that for a moment. She scrunches paper so it crinkles and folds before pulling it out and handing it off to you to hold. You assume that means she wants to keep it, as she knows wrapping paper gets thrown out. To your surprise, the tissue is thicker than what you are used to - it won't rip to shreds if you look at it too hard. That must be why she wants it - it's something to play with later.

A delighted shriek rips through the diner making you and Matt and everyone else in vicinity visibly wince.

"It's Scooby!" Minnie absolutely screams, revealing what is in the bag. It is indeed a Scooby Doo plushie - one of the good quality ones that looks extremely soft to the touch. He's seated and you can tell he has weighted paws to keep him upright and he looks more like a puppy Scooby than the one from the old show, but you know that doesn't matter. 

Mouse loves him. 

She practically shoves the plush in your face to show you. "Mommy, it's Scooby!"

Her excitement makes you laugh and rub at her back, "I see. Do you like him?" She nods before smashing the plush into her chest and hugging it tightly. You smile more, "What do you say to Matt?"

Matt has the biggest smile on his face and that, plus the gift, seems to soothe Minnie's anxiety. She looks right at him, matching his smile with her own beaming one, "Thank you, Mister Matt!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart." 

You can hear the emotion in Matt's voice and it touches your heart. He looks just so happy. You get the feeling he would have been crushed if she hadn't liked the toy.

Minnie holds Scooby up and out to Matt and wiggles him back and forth, "Do you like Scooby? I love Scooby. He's my favorite - he solves mysteries! With Shaggy!"

"I haven't watched cartoons in a long time, but I remember Scooby Doo. I liked the girl with the glasses," Matt replies gently. You give a pleased hum at his response.

"Velma! That's Mommy's favorite!" Minnie exclaims, hugging her new toy again. She's so excited and wiggling with delight. You can't fight your smile as you watch her - and how could you? Matt's own smile is infectious. 

"Oh, is she?" He asks and your little girl gives another eager nod. 

"Uh-huh. 'Cause she's not scared of the monsters!"

That earns a little chuckle from both you and Matt, and he asks, "Are the monsters scary?"

"Yeah! But - but they are really just People," she screws up her face and emphasizes the word, pausing before starting again, "so they aren't Really scary." 

"Ah, I see. Velma must be pretty brave to not be scared of the monsters."

"Mommy's braver," Mouse says proudly, puffing up her chest. She puts emphasis between each word,  "Mommy's not scared of anything." 

Your cheeks burn at her declaration. 

"Is that so?" Matt asks, tilting his head a little towards you, his smile turning amused. You can tell he knows it's not true, but he won't break her illusion.

"I try to be," you say, rubbing Minnie's back again,  trying to get her to calm down just a little bit. She's too happy over the new play thing to be nervous. Matt's done good - she's going to want to talk about cartoons - at least until food comes. 

Linda has been eyeing your table and finally breaks away from the counter to come over to you, dropping off Matt's coffee then taking out her order pad. 

"Can I get y'all started on some food?"

Minnie's attention is ripped away from Scooby and she looks up at the waitress. She squirms in her seat to sit up even taller and proclaims, "I want grilled cheese. With fruit. Please. Thank you."  

She's ordered her own food from Linda before, though usually with not such confidence. You think this is part of her push to be a Big Girl. She's gotten to the age where she's started telling you she's not a baby anymore, even if you disagree, and you wonder if she's trying to impress Matt by showing that. You think it's absolutely adorable. 

You can tell Linda does, too.

"One grilled cheese with fruit for the cupcake. How about Mom?"

You consider your options and decide quickly what you want, "Let's go with a grilled cheese with french fries."

Linda jots down the order and turns her attention to Matt, "and the sir?"

"I think I'll have to round it out and get a grilled cheese with fries."

Linda laughs to herself like she's very much enjoying the free reality show she is getting. "Three grilled cheese, two fry, and one fruit coming right up. Think about what y'all want for dessert." 

You duck your head in embarrassment, knowing you are turning pink at the tease. You know she knows Matt is Minnie's father. She looks just like him and sitting there smiling together, there is no denying it. You don't need a DNA test. 

One hundred percent, Matt Murdock fathered your precious little angel.

And Linda seems to think this is the Best Thing in the World. She is absolutely thrilled and you know she's going to gossip with the cooks. 

Matt's got a blush to his cheeks as well, licking his lips shyly.

That makes you blush even more.

Minnie is totally unaware of the implications and declares she wants a sundae.

"Okay, then, I'll go get your order in so you can get that faster," Linda tells her before going to check on the next table. 

"Cupcake?" Matt questions once she steps away, raising his brow over his glasses as he does. His smile is turning into a smirk and you think he's over being shy now. At least towards you. 

"Minnie is sporting her Princess dress," you advise. You don't think his smile can get any bigger.

"A princess dress? Am I under dressed?"

You gently nudge your daughter, "Can you tell Matt about your dress?"

Minnie hugs Scooby to her chest before happily launching into a description of her dress, "It's pink! And yellow! And puffy! It has sparkles! And I can run in it."

"You can run in it?" He clarifies. The answer is a vigorous nod, so you jump in to help.

"The bottom is kind of like a tutu - lots of tulle. It only goes to her calves, so it won't drag on the ground. She looks like an upside down cupcake." You don't know if that helps at all, but he doesn't push for more information. 

"It sounds like a really good Princess dress. Does that make you the Queen?" He teases. It gets a giggle from your daughter, which only makes you blush more. He directs his next inquiry to Minnie, once she's done laughing at you.

"Can you tell me what your Mommy is wearing?"

Your little one doesn't question why Matt needs things described to him and jumps right in, always so eager to please, "Mommy's wearing her fancy pants and a pretty top and she's got pretty hair. She looks pretty." Matt makes a pleased little noise over her description, encouraging her to continue on.

You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands. Your pants aren't fancy - she just rarely sees you outside leggings and sweatpants. You are going to have to take her to nicer places so she doesn't think jeans are formal wear. And pretty? Well, Mouse thinks everything is pretty.

"Do you think Mommy's pretty?" Minnie boldly asks instead of describing you more and you feel like you are going to die. You'd much rather prefer if she was being shy right now.

"I do," he says gently and of course it makes your blush even harder. This meeting should be about him meeting Minnie, but it is apparently about them ganging up on you to explode your heart out of your chest. "My eyes got hurt when I was a kid, so I can't see through them anymore. I see things through hearing and touching. I think you're Mommy has a very pretty voice. I like how she says different words. I can't see you're Mommy rubbing your back, but if I listen I can hear it. I can't see that your Mommy is wearing a pretty shirt, but now that you told me, I know. I use my hands to find out what shapes things are and where things are around me." He demonstrates by gently, and exaggeratedly, patting the table until he finds the menu. Mouse watches in fascination as he pushes it to be between them. 

"I can't read like your Mommy can anymore with my eyes, so instead I use my fingers. Each set of bumps is a letter. It's called Braille and it's the English alphabet for people who use their fingers to read instead of their eyes."

You watch as your daughter listens to the explanation. She scrunches up her face as she processes the information, before looking down at her hands. She flexes her fingers a few times before looking back up at Matt. 

"You got hurt?" She asks. Matt nods and gives an affirmative, pulling the menu back towards him. Part of you wonders if he's explained being Blind to a child before - his words and the concepts are simple enough for your little one to grasp. You're glad you left this to him.

"Something bad got in my eyes and made them not work anymore." You know this is something your daughter understands - she's gotten things in her eyes before that made it hard for her to see. You can see the dots connecting in Mouse's mind - she rubs a little fist into her left eye like it's irritated.

"Do you need a band-aid?" Minnie asks before dropping her arm with a little gasp, "or a kissy? Mommy gives me a kissy when I get hurt." Her concern is adorable and before Matt can answer her, she's jutting her new toy out towards him again, "Scooby can give you a kissy."

You can't see Matt's eyes behind his red glasses, but you can totally tell Minnie has already got him completely wrapped around her little fingers. You don't know if it's instinct to love her or he's just charmed by her sweetness. 

"Thank you, sweetheart. I don't need one right now, it happened a long time ago. They've healed, they just don't work anymore. But if you could help tell me what things look like, I would very much appreciate that." His words are gentle and your daughter absolutely lights up over being asked to help. She loves to help.

"I can do that! I know what lots of things are!" She's practically bouncing in her seat, and deciding this is something you need to practice as well, tell Matt as such. 

He tilts his head towards you, and it might be a trick of your mind, but for a moment his smile looks a bit softer before his attention is pulled back to Minnie. She's holding up Scooby again - you think she's not going to let go of the toy for the rest of the day - and once both you and Matt are focused on her, she starts describing him the best she can. 

"He's brown and he's got a big head and he's a dog!" She turns the toy so it's back is facing Matt before telling him Scooby has black spots, "But not like Pongo. Only a little bit of spots. Pongo has.. Pongo has ten spots." She nods with authority over her assessment and you smile down at her, pride warming your heart. 

"Thank you for telling me what he looks like," Matt says gently, making your little one just beam back at him. "You're very good at it."

You lean on your fist and watch her giggle and hide her face against Scooby. You don't want her to get too embarrassed and not want to talk, so you guide the conversation to something easy for her. 

"Do you want to tell Matt about what we're going to do after lunch?" You ask, knowing it's a topic that excites her and she won't be shy, but it's also something he can relate to. 

Across the table from you, Matt leans forward a little, clearly giving all his attention to Minnie, "Are you going to do something fun after lunch?"

The question gets her to look up from trying to hide away and she nods. She pushes her drawing, which has been ignored since Matt arrived, across the table towards him. You think she doesn't fully understand the concept that Matt cannot see yet, but she'll figure it out. 

"She's sliding you her drawing," you say to try and help. You don't know if he needs more description than that - you can't remember how assistive you were during your night together. You're hoping it's another conversation you can have so you can adapt better to his life. 

Matt feels around the table in front of him until he finds the notepad and he pulls it towards him. Minnie presses her face back into her plushie as she watches him run his fingers around the paper. You are all silent as he locates one of the circles Minnie has scribbled and begins to trace it. His lips begin to twitch at the corners and you wonder what he is thinking - what he is feeling.  You hope this isn't a cruel thing - Minnie trying to show him her art. 

You can tell he can feel the indentation of the crayon being pushed into the paper and you hope it is enough. You are definitely going to look into tactile art when you get home. You don't want to risk being this cruel and embarrassing again. 

"We're gonna see the duckies," Minnie says after a beat and much to your surprise, she pushes herself up so she can reach across the table and places her finger on a circle Matt's not touching. "That's Quack." 

Matt moves his finger to brush against hers, grounding where he is then begins to trace that circle, "This one is Quack?"

"Yeah! He's yellow. And this one," she pushes her finger to the third scribble, which is more square than circle, "is Moose. He's mean." 

"He's mean?" Matt asks as he follows her finger with his own. The drawing is not very big, so he easily finds her finger again, bumping up against hers. All the yellow circles and shapes look the same to you but you know that isn't the case to your daughter and listening to her explain to Matt makes you want to pull out your camera and record the breathtaking smile he has right now.

You're sure there's plenty of time for that later. You're not going to break the moment getting out your phone.

"He bites," Minnie says wisely, like it's a warning. Matt takes it as such and nods in understanding as he follows her finger around the drawing.

"That is mean. You shouldn't bite people," Matt replies, taking in the shape of Moose. "What color is he?"

"He's yellow too," she answers, "but he's only got one feets. That's why he's mean." She carefully moves herself back so she can plop down in her seat. "Mommy says…Mommy says he can't runs away so he bites."

You turn your head a little so you can smile into your hand. Hearing her repeat something you have previously told her always makes your heart melt - she's learning and retaining and growing up. Soon, she won't be your little baby girl. 

"That's right, sweetie," you praise. "He can't run away like the other ducks, so to tell people to stay away, he bites. How do you keep from being bitten?"

Minnie screws up her face in thought and you glance at Matt to gauge his reaction. He still has his hand on the drawings, though he's stopped tracing them since she sat down, and he looks so enraptured by your daughter - his daughter. 

As if he senses you looking at him, he sends a soft smile your way. You return it, not caring that he can't see it. This happy little moment is perfect in your eyes.

"You can only pet the duckies at the zoo," Minnie says after a few moments of thinking. She looks up to you to make sure that is the correct answer and you nod, smiling down at her.

"Exactly, we can only pet the ducks at the zoo. Those ducks like to be pet. The ducks in the park don't want to be pet, so we don't touch them," you gently reinforce. 

"That is a good way to keep everyone happy," Matt agrees, moving his hand away from the notepad so he can take a drink of his coffee. 

Minnie quickly moves to mimic him and you watch as she carefully brings her glass of lemonade closer. Linda already provided a straw, so you don't need to worry about her trying to pick up the glass so you'll let her do this herself unless she asks for help. She has to sit up straight, but Mouse is able to wrap her lips around the straw and take a few sips.

Then of course, as soon as she's done she holds Scooby up to the straw and pushes his muzzle against it a little too hard. Your hand flies out to stabilize the glass before it can wobble too much. You don't chastise her, as she did nothing wrong, and simply hold the lemonade while she plays.

"Slurp slurp slurp," Minnie whispers to herself before 'walking' the toy back into her lap. 

"Do you like watching the ducks?" Matt asks once she's done, bringing her focus back, and instead of nodding, your little one makes Scooby nod for her before she turns him over and starts messing with his weighted paws.

"They're funny. They have lots of fights. And put their butts up in the water." You try to not huff at her description, as she is not exactly wrong. Part of you wants to jump in and explain what she means, but you want her to bond with Matt. You don't want her to rely on you as a go-between for explaining things to one another. They need to learn each other's language. 

"They put their butts up?" Matt asks bewildered and you don't know if it's genuine or played up for Minnie. 

Either way, your little girl giggles, "When they go down in the water. They go butt up!" She looks up at Matt then turns her plush over so his tail is pointed towards the ceiling, "like this!"

You do decide to intervene at this point, tapping on Minnie's shoulder so she looks up to you, "Matt can't see with his eyes, remember? You need to tell him what it looks like or let him feel."

You can see the little wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally puts the pieces together. She looks back to him then plonks Scooby face down, ass up on her notepad. 

"Like this," she repeats before patting the sides of the plushie. She then leans back in her seat and smiles at Matt, proud of herself. You bite your lip, waiting to see what Matt does. 

He doesn't push for or request more description, instead quickly finding the edge of the notepad, then feeling over Scooby. You're pretty sure he's putting on a show of patting over the toy by the way it's making Minnie giggle. 

"Do you know why they put their butts up?" He asks and you wonder how much longer you will be talking of duck butts. It's cute, but you are also in public. Matt seems to not care at all so you push aside any embarrassment creeping at the edge of your psyche. 

They both absolutely deserve this.

Your little one shakes her head with a 'not-uh' at Matt's question. You've told her why before, but you are sure she's forgotten - it is not useful information to her three year old brain. 

"It's so they can get food underwater," he says as he flips Scooby over so he's sitting properly again. "They float on the water, but their food is underneath them." He bounces Scooby lightly, like he's floating in water. As she watches and listens, Mouse sticks her little hands into her mouth. "They have to dive down to get it, because they don't have hands to pick it up," he demonstrates by tipping the stuffed dog forward, so he's once again face down ass up. "So they end up sticking their butts out of the water. They look for food like this."

As he finishes his explanation, he pushes Scooby towards Minnie, pretending to make him snuffle and sniff for her, including making the sound himself. She hides her face behind her hands, giggling loudly, "There's no food here!"

"Oh no, there's not?" Matt asks in an overly dejected voice, tilting Scooby back up so he's sitting. He lets go of the plush and to keep up the fun atmosphere, you quickly pick it up instead.

You bounce the toy towards your daughter, teasing lightly, "is he going to have to gobble you up instead?"

"No!" She mock wails, lightly kicking her feet and still hiding her face, "I'm not food!"

"Are you sure?" Matt asks, leaning forward a little bit. "You look like food to me."

"Nom nom nom," you say in a deep voice, having Scooby's muzzle bump into her arm repeatedly. His pun doesn't dawn on you until Mouse starts squirming around and giggling.

"Noooo!"

"Well, looks like I'm here right in time," Linda declares as she very suddenly appears at the end of the table holding a tray with your orders. You flush in embarrassment, instinctively moving to sit up straight and behave and pulling Scooby into your lap. You feel like a misbehaving kid who got caught playing in class.

Matt has the most shit eating grin on his face, like he doesn't care who saw him playing with Minnie. He probably doesn't - this is his first time meeting her and it's going so well. 

Your meals are placed in front of you, with Linda narrating to Matt where his plate is and where the food is on the plate when she sets it in front of him as she collects the menus.

"Thank you, Linda," Matt says from across the booth, managing to look and sound boyishly charming.

Again, almost instantly, Minnie copies him, giving her biggest and brightest, "Thank you, Miss Linda!" 

"Thank you, Linda," you echo with your own little smile because you don't want to be rude and because you know she'll fucking love it. 

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever seen," she coos at you and you have to bite your lip so you don't laugh. You just know she is going to corner you at some point and demand answers. But that is for later, right now you are in your own bubble.

Beside you, Minnie helpfully pipes up, "Mister Matt can't see, you have to tell him what you see. Or let him feel." 

You close your eyes tightly so you don't cringe or laugh. Your little Mouse is trying her best to do what she has been taught and you can't fault her at all. Linda gives a surprised yet amused laugh while Matt addresses your daughter. You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Minnie, that's right. She's talking about us and I know that, so she doesn't need to explain. I appreciate your help in telling her, though." You look over to your daughter to gauge her reaction and she is still all smiles and Love.

"You're welcome!" She brightly replies then turns her attention to you and the toy in your lap, "Mommy, can I have Scooby?"

Linda gently taps the edge of the table with her knuckles as she steps away from the table, "Y'all enjoy your food and let me know if y'all need anything else." Her grin is enormous, and you'll have to give a nice tip for not completely embarrassing you.

You thank her again and once she's left, you pass Scooby back to Minnie, with a gentle reminder, "Put him to the side, so he won't get dirty." She nods in understanding, taking him and plopping him on the other side of her booster seat. Then she leans on the table and stretches her little arms until she can grab the napkin holder on the other end of the booth. Before you realize what she's doing, she yanks a handful of napkins free and falls back into her seat with an "oof".

"Are you alright?" Matt quickly asks, reaching his hand out over the table towards her like he can actually catch her from there if she falls. 

His instinct to protect her makes your heart sing as you answer, "she's okay. Mouse, if you can't reach, you can ask for help." You still pat over her to make sure she's completely okay and it causes her to squirm in her seat.

"I can reach," is her slightly pouty reply. You don't want to get her cranky when she's been doing so well, so you let this pass and pull your hands away.

"Okay, sweetheart, just be careful, okay?" 

Instead of answering, she ignores you and slowly she starts to unfold the napkins one by one. You have no idea what she is doing so you just watch. For a moment - then you remember Matt has no idea what is going on and you try your hand at narrating, "She grabbed napkins and now she is unfolding them."

"Why are you doing that, sweetheart?" He asks your daughter, brow knitting up and mouth turning into a frown. 

She looks up at him as she pulls open another napkin and lays it flat on the table, saying like it's the most obvious thing, "Scooby doesn't have a lap."

"Scooby…doesn't have a lap?" Matt clarifies, clearly confused. You are as well until Minnie turns and starts draping the napkins over the plushie, covering him with them like a patchwork ghost. 

Then you get it. "He doesn't have a lap to hold his napkin." 

Realization dawns on Matt's face and he huffs in delight, "Of course." He makes a big show of taking the napkin around the silverware of his place set and putting it in his lap, even though your little one barely looks up at him. "We don't want to get dirty while eating."

"No crumbs," you agree, taking your napkin and putting it into your lap. You are constantly amazed by what your little girl retains - usually you have to put the napkin on her lap or remind her. Big Girl table manners is something you've only just started working on and pride swells in your chest at her actions. Even if she's just trying to impress Matt you are thrilled your lessons are working.

Once Scooby is hidden under napkins, Minnie puts one still folded napkin into her own lap. She pats it carefully so it's flat. As she does that, you check her plate to make sure everything is ready for her. Her kid's grilled cheese is already cut into four triangles, so you don't need to make anything smaller for her, and the fruit cup doesn't require any help. She's big enough to be able to stab the cut fruit with a fork and eat it on her own. You don't need to fuss with anything on her plate, so you start picking at your french fries. Matt has the same idea as you, going for his side instead of the main, but your daughter picks up the closest quarter of her sandwich and starts to nibble at it, like the Mouse she is.

A comfortable silence falls over your booth as you all start to eat. 

You're still a little hesitant to trust everything is really going so well. You've conditioned yourself to believe that eventually everything will always fall apart - you just need to give it time. People leave and things go wrong, and you're left hurt and alone to pick up the pieces. You pray and hope and wish this curse the universe has put on you doesn't get passed down to your daughter. As long as you are breathing you won't leave her - and maybe if you believe hard enough Matt has come into Minnie's life and you are only there by extension, things won't come crashing down around her. 

You'll fight tooth and nail for her well-being if it comes down to it, but it's something you don't want to have to do. She deserves a good, easy life.

Matt breaks you from your depressing thoughts, tilting his head and that handsome sweet smile towards Minnie, "How is your grilled cheese, Minnie?"

She looks up at him from behind her food, eyes going wide at being addressed, like she forgot Matt was even there. She sets down her half-eaten slice before answering, in a shy little mumble, "...it's yummy." 

"Yeah?"

You duck your head with a fond smile. After the brief excitement of playing, of course she reverts back to being shy. You can sense she wants to start squirming and hiding at the direct attention, so you try to redirect the energy. It's amazing how bold you can be when trying to comfort your daughter. You can let yourself be uncomfortable until the cows come home, but you don't want her to experience that.

"Matt, can you tell Minnie a little about yourself?" You ask, maybe a little bit louder than you intended to.

He tilts his head towards you just slightly, his lips parting slightly and brow furrowing like he doesn't quite get why you asked that now. But he doesn't question you, instead leaning back into his seat to think over the question. 

You want Minnie to know more about Matt to get more comfortable with him but you are also curious. Hearing what someone says about themselves is more telling than reading about them in online news articles.

"Let's see, I first met your Mommy a few years ago at a party. That's how we became friends.  My other friends and I run a law firm where we help people when they get in trouble," He pokes at his fries while he talks and that seems to help Minnie relax more. She picks up her grilled cheese triangle and resumes eating while she listens. "I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen and want to help all my neighbors the best I can, because they are good people who don't have a lot of people to help them. I am able to help them, so my friends and I do the best we can to help them if they need it. I want to live in a happy place where people help each other." 

You have no idea if he has experience talking to three year olds, but you think he'll have no problems with Minnie. Even if she doesn't understand exactly what he's saying, she watches him with interested eyes and you can tell she's taking in the information the best she can. Even if she's getting shy again, it's obvious Matt doesn't scare her. 

"You help people?" your little one asks as Matt eats another fry. "Like a police man?"

He shakes his head, "No, after the police man comes. Like, if a police man thinks someone did something bad, but they didn't. They need someone to come tell the policeman they are innocent. That means they didn't do the bad thing." 

Mouse pauses her chewing, sandwich still partly in her mouth. You haven't really discussed the topic of police with her - she's just three after all, but you know from the shows she watches the police are viewed in a good light. Personally, you've seen the bad side and know very well Matt helped clearing out the corrupt cops in Hell's Kitchen, but the concept the police might get something wrong seems to be a big one for her. Her little nose and brow scrunch up as things roll around in her head. 

Matt seems to realize she's processing, as he continues to eat his fries and wait for the next question. 

Finally, she puts her sandwich back down and looks up at Matt with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Are you Spidey-man?"

You try very hard to not laugh at the series of emotions that fly across Matt's face. First, he looks confused, then he makes this face like he smelled something bad, curling up his lips a little, before forcing it back into a smile with the help of a deep breath. 

"No, sweetheart, I'm not Spider-Man, I'm a lawyer." 

Minnie visibly deflates with a tiny 'oh', picking up a new sandwich triangle to start eating while looking like she's been told Christmas has been canceled. You suck on your bottom lip so you won't laugh. Across from you, Matt looks like he's angry at himself for not being Spider-Man and for disappointing Mouse over the fact - like how dare he not be the spunky superhero. 

You feel the need to intervene before the mood shifts into something negative.

You pick up one of your french fries and wave it a little at Minnie to get her attention, "Matt can't be Spider-Man, Mouse. He's too tall." That gets her to look up at him again and he offers her this tiny hopeful smile. You feel like he's silently begging her to not be upset at him over something he can't control. "Remember? The balloon lady said he was as tall as her and Matt's taller than that." 

You have no idea if she even registered how tall Matt is or if she can even mentally compare his height to the height of someone she's never seen in person, but you know pointing out how things are different in the past has worked.

She screws up her face at your words, carefully considering them, then finally nods and declares, "He's too tall to be Spidey-man." And just like that, everything is fine and she goes back to eating. 

You grin to yourself and pop your fry into your mouth. Matt sits there, like he needs his own moment to process what happened. You are used to toddler wild mood swings and how to deal with them - you speak fluent Minnie logic. It will take him time to learn and you are sure there will be plenty of chances for it. He will be a master of it in no time if his fancy law degree is any indication.

Matt clears his throat after a long pause before picking up half of his sandwich, "Is he your favorite superhero?"

You wonder if he is really ready for this conversation. Minnie is part of the first generation to grow up with Super Heroes being a Real thing and not from war stories and comic books. You've tried to keep her away from all the news stories about all the horrible world events that keep happening, but capitalism sure loves to sell the idea and you can't fight capitalism. You're half convinced the Avengers are funded by their merchandise sales alone. Spider-Man isn't a part of all that, as far as you know, but New York loves the guy and you can get bootleg Spider merch on most street corners. Which you have, because Mouse thinks he's Cool. 

"He saved a kitty," she says with lots of pride in her voice. "I saw on TV." 

You remember the news segment from a few weeks prior: someone had filmed Spider-Man rescuing a cat that had gotten stuck in some construction equipment. It was heartwarming.

"He saved a kitty?" He asks, pretending to be in awe. Minnie gives a vigorous nod before shoving more of her grilled cheese into her mouth.

"She's nodding," you narrate, finally moving to eat your sandwich. "It was a daring rescue. I had to save the video on my phone so we can rewatch it. It was on top of a crane."

"Do you like Spidey-man?" Mouse asks as soon as she swallows her food. You know he can't see you, but you still look at Matt with raised eyebrows, wanting to know his answer as well.  

"Well, based off what you said, he sounds like a good man. He wasn't around when I was growing up, so I'm partial to Captain America. I used to read his comics when I was little like you." It's a very diplomatic and lawyer-y answer and it makes you wonder if Matt even likes the topic. Hell's Kitchen did get the short end of the stick in the Battle of New York and the whole thing might be a touchy subject, especially considering his career. You know developers tried to take advantage of all the destruction and that must have caused a tonne of legal trouble. 

Not that Minnie knows any of that, so you try to divert the conversation with the first thought that comes to mind, "what about ducks, Mr. Murdock, are you a fan of ducks?" 

Your question throws him for a moment, but eventually he hums at the inquiry before nodding, "I do like ducks. Even ones who bite." He shoots you a little smile, something charming that makes your heart stutter. So instead of continuing to look at him, you turn to your daughter.

"Do you think we should invite Matt to visit the ducks?" You ask, wanting to make sure she is comfortable with the idea before properly asking Matt if he would like to come along. You have no idea if he has plans after this or not, but it is worth a shot.

Minnie looks from you to Matt and back again, pursing her lips in thought before lowering her voice into an unintentional stage whisper, "Mommy, he can't touch the duckies."

You try your best to not coo at her concern. You want to wrap her up in your arms and never let anything bad happen because how can your little angel be so thoughtful after only knowing him for half an hour?

"It's okay, sweetie," Matt softly says, and you turn your gaze to him. You swear you can feel the emotion coming off of him in waves - the desire to spend more time with his daughter, to learn more about her and bond. "You can help describe them to me, if you want. If you want me to come with you." 

The last part hits home - you are very familiar with that way of speech. The want and ache to be included but knowing you'll most likely be denied the opportunity. 

It feels like an infinity passes before she looks away from both of you and shyly admits, "I can help." She was so enthusiastic with her new toy and you do want to try to get that energy back. The park is one of the places she forgets to be a timid little mouse and you are hoping once she's not trapped in the booth, it will be easier for her to express herself.

"May I go with you to visit the ducks, Minnie?" He asks so proper and politely and it makes your stomach do funny things. You really do not understand how this wonderful man picked you of all people to sleep with.

Mouse squirms then pushes her wrist against her mouth, mumbling into it, "I wanna see the duckies. With Mister Matt. And Mommy."

You lean in and gently kiss the top of her head, rubbing at her back to silently tell her she did such a good job. "We'll all go see the duckies after we finish eating. All together."

Minnie peeks up at you, that shy sweet smile brightening to a look only reserved for Mommy, "We're gonna see the duckies. All together."

From the other side of the booth you hear Matt confirm in the softest voice, like you weren't meant to hear it.

 "All together."

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

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

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

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza 

[harrywavycurly]

Southern Comfort Part 28: Some Kinda Alright

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @wedontknowherorhimorthem @blckburd @daphnesutton @fangirl509east @styleswithaseaview @stylesfever

Disclaimer: In this series your older brother Grant’s face claim is Glen Powell and if you don’t know who he is or what he looks like just look here

A/N: Harry finally gets to meet your older brother and while Grant may terrify him he’s determined to get his stamp of approval, enjoy some sibling bickering and nervous Harry✨

Harry doesn’t know what to do with his hands, at first he had one resting on the top of your thigh while the other holds his drink but then he thought having his hand on your thigh in front of your older brother would be inappropriate. So now it’s resting on top of the table and he can’t help but begin to tap his fingers to the beat of the song that’s softly playing on the speakers of the little outdoor area of the bar you picked to meet at. He knows any moment now Grant will be arriving having opted to just meet the two of you here instead of at your house where he’ll be spending the majority of his week and a half while in town, saying he had to make a few stops after his flight and while you seemed to know what that meant it left nothing but an anxious feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach because what if one of those stops was to go pay his manager a visit like he had threatened a few weeks ago?

“Is that my sister I see over there?” Harry’s head snaps in the direction of a southern accent that’s almost as thick as yours but not quite. He watches a grin spread across your face as you stand up and push your seat back so you can make your way across the room. Harry stands up but doesn’t follow you, allowing you to have a moment with your brother.

“The one and only.” You answer as Grant just smiles and opens his arms so you can wrap yours around him in a tight hug. “I missed you.” You mumble as his arms wrap around you so he can squeeze you in a bear hug making you laugh.

“I missed you too.” You smile as he pulls away just enough so he can look down at you a bit and when you see him raise an eyebrow at you before he looks over your shoulder towards the table you know Harry’s at you quickly unwrap one of your arms from around him so you can poke a finger into his chest as a warning making him roll his eyes. “So that’s him?”

“You be nice to him Grant Matthew-”

“Hey now no need to go all full name on me okay? I’m always nice.” You roll your eyes as you glare at him when he finally looks away from Harry and back to you. “I’m just gonna see what he’s all about that’s all.” You look over your shoulder and you can’t help but smile when you see Harry standing there looking down at his hands messing with his pinky ring. You know he’s nervous but that doesn’t make him look any less handsome in his jeans and short sleeved button up letting a lot of his tattoos be on display, you know your brother is going to grill him but you won’t let it get too out of hand.

“He’s a good guy.” You state as Grant releases you from his hold as he watches the way you look at your boyfriend from across the room. “I like him.” Is all you say before you look at your brother with a smile before you loop your arm with his so you can lead him to the table so he can finally meet the man that’s been taking up so much of your time the last four months.

“You the dude that’s obsessed with my sister?” Harry’s eyes go wide as Grant’s loud voice makes him flinch slightly as he looks up from where he was messing with his rings. You instantly smack your older brother’s chest with the back of your hand making him take his eyes off of Harry so he can look down at you with a raised brow.

“What? It’s true? The dude sent bluebonnets from the middle of damn no whereville Texas all the way to Malibu…ya ain’t doin that just for some random pretty smile you ran into in the mini mart I’ll tell you that much.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as your brother brings up the flowers he sent to your work the day after he met you in person, of course you’d share that bit of information with him or maybe you shared it with your mom who then told your brother? Either way it’s not a shock to Harry that your brother knows about it.

“You been here for all of two minutes and you’re already workin every single one of my nerves.”

“Oh I’m sure there’s one I’ve missed but don’t worry the night is young…now where are your manners huh? Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

“Harry,” Your smile is warm and your eyes are soft as you look at Harry and when he looks back at you he feels a little more relaxed. “This is my older brother Grant.” You motion towards the man standing next to you and Harry looks away from you and towards Grant who gives Harry what he can only assume is a smile he uses on everyone he doesn’t know that well, it’s not fake looking it just doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nice to meet you.” Grant just nods as Harry reaches out a hand for him to shake making Grant look at it briefly before reaching his own hand out.

“You always wear so many rings?” Grant asks as he shakes Harry’s hand, quite aggressively you notice by the way Harry’s smile falters ever so slightly but you know Harry has a strong grip because he’s had to hold you steady so you didn’t fall when he’s caught you climbing to reach something in his kitchen or a grocery store shelf a few times so you try not to worry about it as you look between to two men.

“Uh yeah I wear them pretty much everyday.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because you knew your brother meant it an an insult but one thing about Harry is he takes pride in his appearance all the way down to his accessories that include all his rings that you’ve grown quite fond of. Harry uses this moment of Grant standing right in front of him to really take in his appearance.

If Harry didn’t know him he would still be able to tell he was from somewhere in the South maybe not Texas exactly but somewhere boots are mandatory much like the dirt covered ones he has on, as is the shiny silver belt buckle that’s visible since his black t shirt is tucked into his tight fighting jeans, the only thing that makes him sort of blend in is the short sleeved white button up he has on over his shirt that he decided to keep unbuttoned. But what catches Harry’s eye is the hat he’s wearing, it’s a simple SnapBack with a football teams logo on it that he has opted to wear backwards and Harry is honestly sort of surprised he’s still wearing it since he’s inside a restaurant and about to sit down at a table, surly he’s going to take it off any moment now because even Harry knows the hat rule. But even with this more casual look your brother is going for he doesn’t look any less intimidating and honestly the short sleeves showing off how toned his arms are only make Harry more aware just how easily he could probably kick his ass and he wonders if that was the goal he was going for when he picked his outfit out.

“So you never answered my question.” Harry runs a hand through his hair as Grant gets comfortable in his seat, right across from him. Harry looks at him for a moment and all he can really focus on is his hat, that’s still on his head so he blinks a few times and shakes his head as he leans forward a bit towards Grant.

“Oh I’m sorry what-”

“Are you obsessed with my sister?”

“Grant Matthew you better take that damn hat off at this table.” Your voice is a harsh whisper as you lean across the table and Harry has to hide his smirk behind his glass as he picks it up to take a sip of his drink, he knew it was going to happen the moment he watched your brother sit down with it still on his head.

“You may work in a barn but you sure as shit weren’t raised in one so I’m gonna need you to act like it okay?” Harry watches as your brother quickly reaches up and slides the hat off his head and then it disappears under the table, Harry has learned that it’s probably resting on his knee that seems to be the place people put their hats while at the table because even Niall put his cowboy hat there while having dinner at your house last month. Harry can feel the annoyance radiating off of you and honestly he’s a little shocked at the words that have come out of your mouth since normally you don’t like to cuss unless you’re extremely upset but it seems your brother just knows how to push all your buttons.

“I left momma at home okay? I don’t need you takin her place while I’m here.” He snaps as he runs his hands through his hair and Harry looks at you as you sit back in your chair and just shrug as you reach for your wine glass to take a quick sip and place it back down on the table.

“Then maybe stop doing stupid shi-you know what? I don’t much appreciate how you’ve got me all riled up right now.” You point your finger at your brother and Harry looks across the table and sees Grant crossing his arms over his chest as he stares his sister down.

“You have me cussin up a storm in front of my sugar here,” Grant’s eyes land on Harry as you place a hand on his arm making Harry look over at you but you’re still glaring at your bother. “And I don’t do that very often so I’m gonna need you to start actin like the southern gentleman I know you are or I swear I’m gonna lay a whoopin on you the size of our home state do you understand me?” Your voice has lost all its gentleness as Grant leans forward so his forearms on resting on the table but Harry notices he makes sure to keep his elbows hanging off, that’s a good start he thinks.

“Yes ma’am.” Harry can tell by the way Grant smiles as he speaks the words to you that this is a normal thing that happens between the two of you because you just give him a smile in return and with the hand you used to point your finger at him you just simply pick up your wine glass and take a sip from it.

“To uhm answer your question from earlier,” Grant shifts in his seat as Harry struggles a bit to maintain eye contact with him from across the table. “I am obsessed with your sister but I don’t see how anyone could meet her and not become at least slightly obsessed? She’s sort of amazing.” Harry feels your hand on his arm slide down to his hand so you can interlock your fingers with his and he doesn’t have to look at you to know there’s a smile on your face as you run your thumb over his knuckles.

“She’s so amazing it took you damn near a month to even ask her on a date and then a stupid amount of dates after that to ask if she’d let you be her boyfriend?” Harry swallows thickly as Grant slightly squints his eyes as he leans forward onto the table and quirks a brow at Harry. “Now I may be a little country boy but I know when something ain’t adding up and let me tell ya Harry…this shit ain’t addin up.” You grip your wine glass a little tighter as you sit there and try not to get in the middle of the conversation, you had warned Harry this was something Grant might bring up because like you had mentioned to him yourself the pace Harry decided to take with dating and asking if he could be your boyfriend was slower than you’d been used to but he had his reasons and now he just needs to explain them to your brother.

“I just didn’t want to rush into anything with her I uhm I made her feel uncomfortable in the very beginning so I didn’t want to make that mistake again I just didn’t want to do anything to make her want to leave me or uh to end things so I just took my time letting her get to know me and getting to know her so when the time came and I asked her out she’d know for sure if this was something she uh wanted or not.” Harry knows it doesn’t make sense, he knows to anyone that’s not you that the words he just said won’t mean anything and if anything they just bring up more questions but he knows you tell your brother everything, well most everything so he’s hopeful that he’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

“She made you nervous as hell didn’t she?”

“Extremely.”

“Good. You need someone who can make you sweat a bit.”

“Oh yeah she’s uhm good at making me kinda freak out.”

“Let’s cut the pleasantries for a moment okay?”

“Pleasant-”

“I’m not gonna lie to you Harry I googled you.” You roll your eyes as Grant reaches for his drink and brings it up to his lips for a quick sip. “Your music is whatever but what I’m really concerned about is why are there photos of my litter sister leaving her apartment and her work or out at the beach all over the internet and more importantly what the hell are you going to do about it?” Harry nods as he listens to Grant’s concerns because it’s normal for an older brother to not want photos of his sister all over the internet, Harry also doesn’t like it so he understands why there is a slight harshness to his tone.

“I can’t do anything about it really. I wish I could stop people from taking her photo when I’m not there but I can’t but I have managed to at least talk her into the idea of full time security.” You give Harry’s hand a nice squeeze because you know how much he wishes you could just walk down the street and not get bothered but it’s not so much the case anymore now that the two of you have been seen together so often the last few months, you get recognized a bit more easily now.

“And what’s that mean? Like a bodyguard?” Harry nods and Grant just looks away from Harry and over to you and Harry knows that look on your brother’s face, it’s the one that’s silently asking you if you’re okay with the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“His name is Travis and I handpicked him.” You answer with a smile and Harry chuckles at the memory of you and Jeff arguing in his living room over who was more qualified, Travis or this man named Zach. You wanted Travis because he was from Texas as well and that was important to you and while Zach didn’t know who Brooks & Dunn were he had more experience but needless to say Jeff left annoyed and you left with Travis as your new full time bodyguard. “He’s from Austin.” Grant seems to be more than pleased with this information because a smile forms on his face as he nods his head in what Harry can only assume is in approval of your choice.

“You’re a braver man than me Harry I’ll tell you that much.” Harry raises an eyebrow as Grant takes a sip of his cocktail before looking him in the eyes with a smirk on his face letting Harry know whatever is about to come out of his mouth isn’t going to be good.

“Ain’t no way in hell I’d let a Texas boy from Austin no less…be around my girlfriend all damn day..those are some smooth talkin slippery fuckers over there Harry..that’s our state’s capital you know that right? That means politician type men…which means they look damn good in a suit all while telling you everything you wanna hear and next thing you know you’ll be all teary eyed and heart broken getting Kevin Costner-ed watchin Travis the bodyguard run off with your girl.” You let out a loud laugh as you place your wine glass down on the table causing both Harry and Grant to turn and look at you.

“You’d have to get a girlfriend first Grant in order to let another man be around her all day and you know damn well ain’t no man from Austin gonna come in and swoop me away from what I have right now so no one will be getting Kevin Costner-ed you jackass.”

“How do you know that I don’t? You’re not home anymore and you can’t keep up with my love life online like I can with yours.”

“Oh so you’re not just itchin to ask me how Kathy is doin? If she’s free while you’re in town?”

“Kathy? Like Niall’s Kath-”

“Who the fuck is Niall?” Harry looks away from you and slowly turns to face your brother who looks like he is a second away from breaking the glass in his hand if he grips it any tighter.

“Uh he’s my best mate and uhm Kathy’s boyfriend.” Grants eyes dart to you and you just smile and shrug making him once again look at Harry with a hard glare.

“And his name is Niall? Niall what?”

“Horan..we were in One Direction together.”

“Niall Horan? That’s not a real fucking name.”

“Grant don’t be an ass.”

“You got Kat out here dating a fucking ex boyband-er?” You roll your eyes as your brother glares at you while Harry has officially lost all hope of Grant leaving this bar not wanting to kick his ass because not only is Harry dating his little sister but now apparently Harry has set up his bestfriend with the girl he likes to spend time with while in town. “She needs stability in her life.”

“Oh and you’re gonna give her that are you? The traveling ranch hand huh? Who lives in Texas while she lives in California? Yeah sounds real stable Grant.”

“I only travel when dad and them tell me to so I gotta home base and you damn well know it besides…I’ve seen those documentaries about what happens to members of boybands after they break up…shits not pretty..she deserves more than some washed up singer that’s all I’m sayin.” Harry raises an eyebrow as he looks at Grant because surely he can’t be serious because him and Niall were in the same band so does he think these things about him as well? And the thing about calling Niall washed up? That’s got to be a joke? But then again based on the look in Grant’s eyes he can only assume he’s jealous of his friend being the one Kathy is spending time with so of course he’s going to say things he doesn’t mean but Harry doesn’t exactly know Grant so he can’t be too sure.

“Washed up singer? You don’t even-”

“I’ve got it sweetheart.” You look over at Harry who is giving you a reassuring smile as he reaches over and places a hand on your arm. “Why don’t you go get another drink?” You just look at your wine glass and let out a sigh when you see it’s empty, Harry gives your arm a little pat at he leans over and kisses your cheek making you smile.

“Okay but I swear Grant if you say one more thing about my puddin pop I’ll drag you out of here by your ear and make you apologize to his face.” You threaten as you stand up and point a finger at your brother who just laughs and shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. Harry just turns his head and gives you a smile as he watches you head towards the bar, he doesn’t turn to look back at Grant until he sees you walk up to the bar and tell them what you want.

Grant won’t admit it but he’s almost sort of impressed with how Harry sends you off so he can talk to him in private, he knows what he said about his friend was uncalled for but he wasn’t exactly prepared to hear that Kathy is dating someone. Not that it really matters since Grant has no real intentions with Kathy he just likes having someone to be flirty with when he visits his sister. The look on Harry’s face when he does finally turn back to look at Grant is a serious one, it tells him all he needs to know really, that Grant crossed a line and Harry intends on setting him straight but Grant just smirks in response because he doesn’t scare easily but he’ll hear the pop star out for a moment or two.

“So firstly those documentaries you watched about boyband members? Yeah that’s not the case for most of us…and secondly Niall isn’t washed up he’s actually on tour right now-”

“Listen man..I respect you sticking up for your friend and I’m glad he’s not some joke but I care about Kathy the same way I care about my sister so…save it okay? He’s never going to be good enough and that’s that.” Grant interjects as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You care about her like you care about your sister? Really?” Harry asks not believing him for a minute that he doesn’t have some sort of feelings for Kathy.

“I mean yeah I like to flirt with her but she’s just nice and…cute.” He answers with a causal shrug and Harry just nods as he watches Grant look over towards the bar to check where you’re at and then he slowly begins to lean onto the table, leaning on his elbows and looking Harry in the eyes making all of Harry’s toughness he had just a few moments ago fade away as he begins to get that very familiar intimidating uneasiness as Grant’s stare only intensifies.

“So listen here pretty boy…I’m gonna go ahead and get this outta the way okay? She likes you and you seem to make her happy so I’ll tolerate you for now. But the moment you break her heart or make her cry…or better yet the moment you let one of your asshole friends make her cry…I won’t hesitate to handle it and just know that eventually even though you’re Harry Styles…they’ll stop looking for you..and honestly the won’t even know where to start…you understand what I’m saying?” Harry feels his palms get sweaty as he takes in every word your brother says, he’s honestly not sure if it’s the accent or how calmly he says it that makes it more threatening but either way Harry understands exactly what he means.

“Uh I uhm-yes yes I understand.” Grant just smiles as he sits up and uncrosses his arms so he can reach over and give Harry’s arm a playful smack making Harry flinch.

“Good I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Oh and uh Travis…he’s married.” Harry spits out making Grant quirks a brow as he grabs his drink to take a sip while Harry quickly looks over his shoulder to check your whereabouts and he smiles when he sees you heading back towards the table. “I may be dumb but I’m not stupid.” Harry explains when he looks back at Grant and when he watches your brother’s face break out into a smile before he leans his head back and laughs he feels like he could just melt into his seat with the amount of relief he feels.

“Well I’m be damned…pretty boy has some smarts to him after all.” Harry just shrugs and laughs to himself as he picks up his drink. “You might just be some kinda alright.” He states as he gives Harry a little nod of his head just as you sit back down at the table with a full wine glass, Harry feels a proud smile take over his face as you reach over and grab his hand pulling it into your lap.

“What’d I miss?” Grant looks at Harry and then to you with a smile and a shrug making you roll your eyes as Harry gives your hand a squeeze.

“Nothing important love.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

since you’re literally my FAVOURITE matt murdock writer, i had to slip this by you :’) <3

high pain tolerance bf vs “noo i got a papercut” gf trope pls

Nonny, you are way too sweet!! :'') I love this!! TBH, I've had this written probably for a few months on my phone, but I ended my day with a nasty paper cut, and it reminded me to post! I hope you like it!

Tolerance (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Warning: Fluff and sweet domesticity, canon-typical injuries/Matt getting patched up

“Almost done, Matty,” you tell him as you work to stitch up the wound on his side.

“It’s really not that bad—it didn’t need stitches,” he tries to insist. 

“Matthew, I can literally see inside of you,” you sigh. “Don’t go Monty Python on me.”

“I’ve been in worse scrapes, and you know that.”

“I do know that, and I don’t like that you’ve been in worse scrapes.”

“I have been more careful, though.”

“I appreciate it. But shut up.”

“Argumentative.”

“Badgering!”

“You’re doing the badgering, angel.”

“And you’re being argumentative,” you counter as you tie off his wound.

“I see my legal skills have rubbed off on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smirk, kissing his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re back down to your normal amount of holes now.”

You watch as the confusion dances across Matt’s face, absorbing the weirdness of your statement before you notice him slip into careful thought as he goes over his anatomy. 

“Was . . . Was that supposed to be a compliment or insult?” he tries. 

You begin to giggle uncontrollably before you lean over to kiss the top of his head, moving to gather all the scraps from patching him up.

“Compliment,” you clarify. “My big, strong, brave Daredevil is all patched up.”

“Sweetheart—.”

“Don’t brush off your nightly beatings like you’re being tickled with a feather duster. You have an unusually high pain tolerance.”

“That part is the Catholicism,” he says with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, yeah, either way, you should see a medical professional about that brain of yo—hmmm!” you whimper. 

“(Y/N)?” Matt asks, snapping his attention toward you, doing his best to get up as fast as he can with his wounds restricting him. 

“‘M okay.”

“Not with that whine.” He grunts and shuffles his way over toward you, his hand wrapping around your own that covers your wound. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It really hurts,” you mutter, keeping your head tilted down. 

“What happened?”

You stay quiet.

“(Y/N)—.”

“Paper cut,” you grumpily admit. 

“You . . . Got a paper cut?”

“It’s big and it’s deep and it’s not in a good spot!” you whine. Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Matty, it’s not funny, it really hurts!”

“Need me to kiss it better?”

“Well, I’m not opposed, but not if you’re gonna laugh at me!”

“I could never laugh at you, angel, just the things you do and how you make me feel.” He exposes the cut and lifts your hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “Does that feel better?”

“A little,” you admit. “It really stings. And I’ll have you know that I put up with a hell of a lot of pain for a week every month just to have your babies one day!”

An amused smile pulls across his lips. 

“You just said—!” you start. 

“You wanna have my babies?” he asks as the smile on his face grows even bigger, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated happiness. 

“Well . . . Yeah. I love you, Matt, and I’d be a big fat liar if I said I didn’t think about our future together.”

“How about when my ribs are in better shape and any superfluous holes have closed, we get some baby-making practice in.” 

You feel your face grow hot as you blush deeply. 

“You’re so cute when you’re bashful,” he hums, angling his head so he can kiss you. 

“You know, Mr. Super-sense, if you weren’t covered in holes . . . !” Your mouth turns into an angry pucker as you try to think of where you were going the insult of your sentence.

“Yeah, angel?” What a punk, he is. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles brightly, bringing his lips to yours, cradling your head with his hand.

You happily return his embraces, getting carried away and lost in his lips before you manage to pull back. “There goes that blood loss, taking control of your mouth again,” you blush as his hands happily settle on your waist. “Let’s get you to bed before I have to give Claire a buzz, hm? I can only patch up holes in your body so well.”

Another soft chuckle escapes his lips as he kisses your again before turning and letting you guide him to the mattress and tuck him in so he can get a few hours sleep before he goes to defend his city once more, albeit in a less physical capacity. 

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

[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.

[outlawruben]

How I think rdr2 characters respond to praise/compliments!

(They are going to sound kinda dumb but I promise I actually put effort into these.)

This may be interpreted as Cannon x Reader or Cannon x your ship!

These are totally fluffy and definitely SFW Jsyk

Abigail Marston - she probably would scoff and wave her hands/playfully slap them, or simply say thank you

Arthur Morgan - turn bright red and hot under the brim of his hat, and responds to them with a half mumbled: “it’s really nothing..” and then walk away awkwardly. (He’s seen with a smile on his face for the rest of the day) (he’s gonna write a new journal entry abt this)

Bill Williamson - scoffs and tells them to “shut up” but loves the compliment. (He always seems to think he’s being picked on)

Charles Smith - goes all quiet for a beat after the compliment and then gives them a sincere “thank you” he smiles at them for the rest of the day.

Dutch Van Der Linde- A simple: “Thank you M’dear.” However, they’ve inflated his ego even more which Dutch appreciates, and goes to seek their company more.

Hosea Matthews - surprised he was sought after to receive a compliment, depending on what it is, he will openly appreciate it, and mean it.

Jack Marston - “Thank you! :D” his momma taught him manners.

Javier Escuella- He responds with a small chuckle and a “thank you” they are chill now/ they’ve leveled up in Javier liking them.

John Marston- Not expecting it at first but then he melts into a dumb grin and starts avoiding eye contact as he says “thank you.”

Josiah Trelawny- “why thank you!” With a smile. He really appreciates compliments.

Karen Jones- “Ain’t you sweet?” She smirks at them. And that’s basically it.

Kieran Duffy- definitely not expecting a compliment of any kind. “O-oh- thank you..” he smiles kindly and fidgets.

Lenny Summers- grins widely and gives a “thank you!” His mind seems to wander back to the interaction for the rest of the day

Leopold Strauss- Kind of confused but shares his small gratitudes anyway

Mary-Beth Gaskill - “Oh, thank you..” she idly plays with her hair as she talks with them.

Micah Bell - At the very least he’ll scoff, and if he does say anything it’s along the lines of: “Christ, why you so soft?” But he’s blushing nonetheless.

Molly O’Shea- She giggles sweetly and blushes, sharing her gratitudes, and when she sees them for the rest of the day she smiles at them kindly. (She’s happy someone is paying attention to her, giving her a compliment even)

Reverend, Orville Swanson- if not in a drunken stupor, he says his thanks with a grateful smile.

Sadie Adler- grins at them ear to ear with a “thanks..” and soft blush forming on her cheeks

Sean MacGuire- “I din’ know ye’ loved me or something.” He teases them, grinning dumbly.

Simon Pearson- genuinely appreciates it, his big smile misshaping his mustache

Susan Grimshaw- “why thank you darlin’ “ she smiles at them. Not really expecting a compliment but she’s always appreciative of all affection.

Tilly Jackson- “Thank you!” She says kindly full of gratitude and love. (It means the world to her)

Uncle - he didn’t hear it

[lcandothisallday]

Auston kissing his neck

TO WHOEVER YOU ARE WHO SENT THIS IN, I THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART BECAUSE THIS IS SO HOT TO ME😭

Neck Kisses - Auston Matthews x f!reader

warnings: 18+

As Auston entered his apartment, he let out a deep sigh of relief. The high from the game still coursed through his veins. The win combined with his hat trick was putting him in a rather great mood and he wanted nothing more than to step into his apartment and fall into bed for some much needed relaxation with his favourite girl.

The second you hear the apartment door unlock, you squeal and jump up off of the couch and throw your arms around your boyfriend, nearly knocking him down. "Baby you were amazing tonight!" you exclaim, causing him to chuckle softly, his hands falling to hold your waist.

His eyes sparkled with joy as he stared down at you, a grin appearing on his face. The way you adorned one of his jerseys and looked up at him with so much love truly made him feel like the luckiest man in the world. The compliment made his heart flutter, despite the fact that he should’ve been used to it by now. “Thank you beautiful," he hummed modestly, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink before he dipped his head down to give your lips a peck. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you smile, tracing your finger along the edge of his jaw. “Had I known you were gonna get a hat trick I would've told my boss to fuck off and ask her to leave early to watch the game in person,” you sighed.

Auston brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can always quit you know? You don’t need to work.”

You hum, taking a step closer, your body now pressed against his. “I appreciate the offer but you know I can’t,” you mumble, before you leaned up, planting a gentle kiss on his neck, his skin warm against your lips.

Auston's breath hitched and he shivered at the sensation of your lips on his neck, his heartbeat quickening. "You're distracting me from my convincing speech, you know?" he murmured, tilting his head to give you better access.

You chuckled softly, your lips leaving a trail of feathery kisses along his jawline. "That's the idea," you replied, your voice filled with playful seduction. "But I'll think about it...because I really hate this job."

Auston's hands tightened their grip on your waist, pulling you even closer at your answer. His lips found yours, initiating a passionate and deep kiss. The taste of victory mingled with the sweetness of your affection had his head spinning.

The world outside seemed to fade away as you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your kisses grew more urgent and so did your desire for one another.

Breaking the kiss, Auston leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he confessed, his voice husky.

You smiled, your eyes filled with love. "Well, maybe I enjoy driving you crazy," you teased, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek.

Auston's lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, lucky for you, I enjoy being driven crazy by you."

With that, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom.

As Auston carried you towards the bedroom, a hunger burned within you. You wanted to explore every inch of his body. Your lips began to leave a trail of gentle kisses along his neck, savouring the taste and feel of his skin beneath your touch.

Auston's grip tightened around you, his breathing growing more ragged with each kiss.

Reaching the bedroom, Auston gently laid you down on the bed, his eyes now dark with love and lust. He moved to hover above you, his lips capturing yours once more. You couldn't resist your hands roaming his body, the feel of his heart beat strong against the palm of your hand.

Breaking the kiss, Auston leaned back, his eyes locking with yours. His neck was exposed, an invitation you couldn't resist. You took the opportunity to switch positions, with him now laying with his back against the soft bed and you straddling his waist before your head dipped down and your lips attached to his neck once again.

Auston let out a low groan, his hands tangling in your hair.

Your kisses grew bolder, leaving a trail of soft, lingering marks along his neck. Each touch elicited a gasp or a moan from Auston, his body pressing closer into you.

His fingers danced along your hips, sending shivers down your own body. "Fuck Y/N. Need you."

You lifted your head and met his gaze with a giggle, his reactions to you kissing his neck driving you even more wild if possible. "Let me do my thing. Treat you well for how good you played," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin.

Auston simply nodded, his eyes clouded with desire. "Please," he breathed, his voice barely audible.

You returned to his neck, placing gentle kisses and teasing nips, slowly working your way towards his collarbone. Every touch fuelled the fire between you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

"You know...there's other parts of my body that haven't been kissed yet," he mumbled lowly, shifting his hips beneath you to get his point across.

You smirk, lifting your head up and shrugging. "Your neck was just very inviting," you laughed, your thumb gently swiping over one of the hickies you'd given him. "Wanted to take my time with you."

"Well I'm impatient when it comes to you," he hummed, flipping the two of you over so that he was on top once more and grinning. "Gonna have to move quicker than that."

[hanbinstar]

hihi can I be 🐰 anon anyways can I request asking zb1 for cuddles

Of course 🥰 tbh I am so happy to be getting requests I usually don’t do full group because its more time and I have school but im gonna try to do this as much as I can, rn i have had a lot of testing so I might be late sorry

Jiwoong - Jiwoong is so fine omg he would probably come up to you while you’re doing homework (let’s pretend we are in college) and would wrap his arms around you and lightly kiss your neck (in a cute sweet way) “baby please, you look stressed how about you take a break with me” he would then proceed to cuddle up with you on the couch and watch your favorite movies

Matthew - i feel like Matthew would probably not even need to ask, he’d just start back hugging you or if you are on the couch he would hold you in his arms and give so many forehead kisses

Zhanghao - he would definitely pout or whine until you ask him what’s wrong “these days you’ve been so busy and i know we live together but i need your attention desperately” you would give in and hug this man

Taerae - he’d probably not even ask he’d just take you to the couch and lay his head in your lap so you could cuddle him and play with his hair

Hanbin - he would probably be very careful at first when asking because he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable despite you being his partner so when he did ask he felt so relieved when you said yes, ever since then he has been a complete cuddle bug

Gyuvin - he probably jokingly pulled you onto his lap and you didn’t say no so he took it as a sign that you were cool with it, he’s really tall so when y’all cuddle in bed he sometimes wraps his arms and legs around you “haha youre trapped”

Ricky - Ricky Is a confident man who probably wouldn’t even hesitate when asking you “YN come here let’s cuddle” he’s very gentle with you and he probably plays with your hair while your face is buried in his chest

Gunwook - hed be smiling so hard and keep checking if you were alive “Gunwook I already told you,Im asleep I’m not dead, a dead person would not be snoring as loud as I do”

Yujin - he would probably be so shy, omg imagine him coming home from futball (soccer) and he just asks you for cuddles as a reward for him winning, he would try to be confident and chill but his heart would beating so fast and when you fall asleep on him he would probably try so hard not to move (the thing you do when your cat is ontop if you asleep so you make sure to stay as still as possible) he would eventually fall asleep as well

[seoktized]

hii, i just found out abt your acc! YOU’RE SUPER GOOD AT WRITING OMG KSVDJSBSJSBS so here’s my askkk

what if idol!reader doing the troublemaker dance with other male idol for her collab stage, and zb1 legal line founding out abt it and getting jealous THENNN !!! ✨ smutty jealous sex somethjng something ✨

and can i be 🎸 anonnn? thank you!

thank you so much <3 i’m gonna write this nameless so it can be interchangeable :3 ofc you can!! (the bolder ones at the bottom r ones who i think fit the scenario!) welcome ml ♡

you giggled as you read the text from your boyfriend that read ‘so when were you gonna tell me about this collab stage..?’

to be fair, you were gonna tell him soon, but it seems your dance partner beat you to it. you quickly sent a ‘we’ll talk about it when i get home’

when you arrived home you were greeting with your boyfriend, sulking on the couch, making you smile and roll your eyes.

the conversation began with your boyfriend pouting and whining about how he should be the only one to touch you like that. and when you gently reminded him that the dance meant nothing and he could touch you like that all he wanted.

you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes, “oh yeah?” he challenged. and when you nodded he basically pounced on you, enveloping you in a messy kiss.

he slowly trailed down your body, mumbling a “he could never see you like this. could never kiss you like this.” after every kiss. and you whined, agreeing that you belonged to him.

he even left a few marks that would definitely show when you put on your stage outfit. he carried on with his kisses and marks before you had to beg him to fuck you.

he chuckled before sliding his sweats off, silently thanking you for wearing a skirt today. “turn around for me, love.” he said lowly.

you flipped over, resting your head and arms on the arm of the couch. the initial thrust in was delicious, he gave you a minute before he began a brutal pace.

every thrust was laced with possession. the jealousy that was pent up in your boyfriend was taken out on your poor cunt. but you weren’t complaining.

screams of your boyfriends name erupted from your throat as he gripped your hips (hard enough to leave marks, but that’s ultimately what he wanted.)

his pace never slowed until the two of you came, his cum painting your walls white. he groaned as he slid out, pushing your panties back, careful to not let anything spill out. he collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily.

you panted, trying to catch your breath after the best fuck you your life, “s-shit- maybe you should get jealous more often.”

your boyfriend laughed, landing a smack on your ass.

jiwoong, hao, hanbin, matthew, taerae, ricky, gyuvin