#( &. infatuation : matthew. )

[heartshapedbabydolls]

The way your hair comes down and makes you look older

[reidsdimples]

Waking up to a full blown orgasm courtesy of a wet dream about Matthew himself got me outside with a flashlight in broad daylight lookin for this mf. I need that 😭

[deerest-deer]

i went through a phase where i exclusively bought pink/lillac clothing and now every time i wear my lillac clothes i feel like a member of lottie's cult which makes me feel so good <3

[youngdutchishot]

what would vandermatthews do if the other got held hostage💔

(so srry to any asks I forgot I had them in my inbox )

Considering what Dutch went and did for Jackie when the Braithwaites kidnapped the BOI? I'd assume he would.. act out something similar to that mission(? ). Hosea followed him there too, and if it's Dutch that got captured, he'd do the same in my opinion.

If you want specifics. Murde!!. Gosh, so much bloodshed, and I take no criticism.. If that was how he'd react with Jack( taking into account that pretty much the entirety of the gang seems to really care about him —> excluding a few creeps). Then yes, speaking for Dutch, he'd make a scene if it were Hosea. Which I'm also going off of Hosea's death in Saint Denis and how responsive he was toward that. If Hosea's life is at risk, he'd go, no questions asked. But obviously in his own way unless it were, say, The O'Driscolls, then that's guns blazing.

Now- Hosea? He's a conman, clearly strategic in his own right, and under certain circumstances will most definitely crack. Do I think he'd falter or do things a little differently if Dutch were taken as a hostage? Yeah, maybe.. maybe a lil.. maybe in my own fantasy of them... He wouldn't begin with anger. He'd end it with anger. Think about it, really, he's regularly got to act, to pretend, that means if any emotions he has aren't necessarily fit for the situation, he has to push them down or control them healthily(and even then bottling shit up is not-so-great ). So, him snapping last second, maybe at the worst yet best time, and committing the most sinful acts just to save Dutch — and make CERTAIN they leave alive sounds about right!!

TDLR: they'd kill for one another and get them home safely bcs who the hell wouldn't when you've known someone for twenty years../pos

[brainrotcharacters]

A GODDAMN PISCES.

[muwapsturniolo]

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

[plasticferal]

hey girlie, i NEED car sex matt pls😣🙏

shut up and drive | matt sturniolo.

authors note: thank you for the request! i hope i did it justice in these 3.9k words. not proof read! sorry it takes me forever to write lol.

warnings: 18+ content. road head, handjob, fingering, soft switch!matt, somewhat dom!reader, explicit language, unprotected, semi-public indecency. reader discretion advised.

matt has a bad, almost neck breaking habit of staring at you while he's driving. you can feel his eyes on you, then glancing away, then looking through his peripheral vision to make sure you're not about to call him out.

"you're so pretty, baby" he speaks, admiring you. you chuckle, shifting in the car seat. bringing a hand around to his headrest, you play with his hair. he grips just above your knee with one hand, the other secure at the bottom of the wheel.

“eyes on the road, matthew” you tug at his hair with a warning.

he groans in complaint, a tone that would indicate he's annoyed but deep down, he loves it. he loves the sound of your direct voice, telling him to do something and then expecting it from him.

you're the only person who could make a demand and it not get under his skin, because you always mean it from a good place. that, and the fact he's utterly infatuated by you.

"you could have just said thank you" he mumbles, taking it as a hit to his joviality.

"thank you, my love" and he smiles softly and timidly at you, cheeks flushing pink at your words alone. you squeeze his cheeks to turn his head back to the road ahead and he laughs.

you smile at him with admiration. how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up at the wrists, hand lazily on the bottom of the steering wheel, silver rings wrapping around his long, slender fingers. the road ahead is empty, no cars around and the only sound being matt humming along to the music.

the sun is finally setting, and you're both drained. he's driving you both home, fidgeting in his seat as the trip feels far too long. his hips wriggle, and you can tell he needs a break from driving. the views surrounding you are monotonous, making you both heavy-eyed.

"sorry," his voice is meek, small yawn escaping his lips.

"don't apologise, matty." you laugh inwardly.

"i know, i do that a lot," he agrees, shaking off his tiredness.

if there's one person in this world he's going to agree with, it's you. even if you're completely wrong in a statement, or an idea, he's agreeing with you without justification.

"can i have a kiss?" he asks wholesomely, leaning his cheek over a little, one hand still glued to the steering wheel.

"do you think you deserve one?" you ask him warmly, turning in your seat so your body is toward him.

"i do" he nods.

"you have been good, baby." you admit.

you can already tell that matt is tense, your touch in any way at all making his skin hot. he’s been on his best behaviour the entire drive, knowing his reward at the end is you.

"i know, just for you." he speaks softly, proudly.

you exhale amusement, elbow resting on the centre console so you can get closer to matt. pressing your lips to his cheekbone, his face is warm. either from blushing or the heat he has blasting. he smiles sweetly, and satisfied.

you raise a hand to behind his headrest to start playing with his hair again. you scratch the back of his neck lightly, massaging where you can. he melts at the feeling on your nails raking through.

"that feels so good," his voice is like a record player, smooth but a little scratchy.

matt rests his right hand above your knee, giving you a squeeze to say thank you. he keeps his hand there, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

matt is still restless in his seat. you can tell by the way he's rubbing his thighs together, appearing uncomfortable. not being able to sit still.

"you feeling okay?" you ask, observing your boyfriend.

"yeah, baby" he looks at you for a split second, cautious not to linger.

you love watching him drive. the effortlessness, knowing he's in full control, the way he leans back into his seat.

readjusting in your own spot, scooting a little, his hand is forced further up your thigh. you lay your hand over his, pulling it closer up to the crease where your leg meets your hip. you feel matt's eyes dart to gaze down to where he's touching you, needing to see. you force his head back by the base of his neck, and he huffs.

"that's not fair, you're distracting me.” he comments lightheartedly.

"i'm not even doing anything" you speak defensively.

"yeah, well, it doesn't take much" he scoffs, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

you’ve been hinting all day that you can’t wait to get him home and have him all to yourself, but the temptation is tested the further into the drive you get.

"if i really wanted to distract you, i'd do this," you move your hand from his hair, to rest in his lap.

you’re blatant with your action, hand over the zipper of his pants, cupping his buldge. matt grips the steering with both hands, glancing down for a second and muttering a quick “fuck” under his breath.

“that’s really not fair” his voice quivers.

"you don't want me to touch you?" you ask sweetly. in a way that drives him insane.

your hand dances across his crotch through his jeans, his dick slowly revealing a more prominent shape under the blue fabric as he hardens. his dick leans toward his right leg, and your hand wraps around him over his pants.

"fuck, no. i mean- yes. shit, i do. just not now" he shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he positions his hands on the wheel at ten and two.

"so no touching?" you ask, rubbing him softly as he grows in your hand.

you caress his cock as his breaths become short, pulse elevating as you play with him. you feel his dick twitch as you squeeze him, and he grips the steering wheel tight enough you can hear the leather squeak.

"not while i'm driving baby, please" he whines, voice shaking as you ignore his plea and continue rubbing him, leaning over the seat so you can get a proper hold.

"you haven't been touched all day, huh baby?" you're close to his ear, and your breath hitting the skin on his neck has matt almost turning off the road.

it's taking all of his self control not to slam on the brakes. your distraction has him cautiously slowing down, despite there being no one around on the long stretch. distant headlights can be seen, a glowing blur, strained lights. but no one close enough to see your next moves.

"fuck, you're such a tease" he sighs, eyes glaring into the windshield ahead.

abruptly, you let go of his crotch. and he turns to you with furrowed eyebrows, like he hadn't just requested you stop touching him.

"you said not while you're driving. so now you can wait" you can shrug, innocently snuggling back into your spot, out of his space.

matt's mouth makes a tight ‘o’ shape, blowing out a stressed breath, like he’s whistling, but it’s silent. his nostrils flare quickly and he twists his hands on the wheel, as if to distract himself.

he rubs his hips into the seat beneath him again, and you watch as his jaw shifts, back teeth grinding momentarily. the subtle goatee on his face shadows his jaw, chin and upper lip. he looks irresistible.

matt tries to ignore his boner, but it's so prominent. he hisses through his teeth, trying to tuck himself into the band of his boxers with one hand, but anytime he swerves slightly, he gets annoyed and gives up. you bite your lip, trying to inhale back a giggle at his desperation.

"sweetheart, you need to do something about this. i-it hurts," matt's voice is strained with complaint.

you lick your lips slowly, staring at him. he turns his head to reciprocate a dark, sultry look in his eyes.

as much as you want to continue toying with him, you click your seatbelt off, gaining his attention immediately. pulling yourself up onto the leather car seat, positioning to get your knees, you guide your body over the centre console again.

this time, crawling your hands all over the leather details of his car, you grab the bottom of his seat to hold yourself up, dipping your head under his arms that are stretched out, you let your face hover over his lap.

you feel matt's eyes try to lower his gaze, to watch you over his thighs, but simultaneously force himself to be unaware of your actions.

“eyes on the road” you speak, delicate fingers pinching the zipper on his jeans to guide it down, pulling the material open to reveal his navy blue boxers, complimenting his olive skin.

you sweep your hand under the thin fabric to free his erection, tip already glistening with pre-cum. the build up from being tested all day finally coming to fruition.

"you got this worked up just from my touch?" you huff a laugh, mouth hovering over his cock once you finally free him completely.

matt's hips buck up, lower back no longer hitting the seat, arching toward you. stroking his cock in your warm hands, letting the blood rush to his pink, throbbing tip, your mouth is inches away from his length.

"this is so dangerous" his voice is unsteady, knuckles turning white with how hard he's gripping the wheel.

"shut up and drive, matthew." the second your words are out, you bridge the gap between your mouth and his dick.

quickly falling into a rhythm as you bob your head up and down on his dick, his hips jolt up into your mouth as he drives over a speed bump, making you gag.

"ahhhh, sh-shit, y/n" he groans, eyes fluttering as he tries to keep his focus on the road.

you grip his thigh, nails digging into his jeans. you hear his head loll back and hit the headrest with a thud, straining his neck as he swallows loudly. his eyes occasionally drop down to absorb the act you're putting on for him.

he drops a heavy hand onto your head, pushing your head slightly, making you take him deeper. he smirks, relishing in the choking sounds escaping your breathless moans. your hand comes up to place it on top of his, challenging him.

"oh, yeah," he huffs, interlocking your hands as he pushes your head to sink deeper and deeper with each dip of your head, making your eyes water and muffled noises escape, maintaining your breath through your nose.

he's trying his best to keep the acceleration of the car at one speed, his legs jerking and jolting every so often when he feels the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making his driving unpredictable.

you feel his head turn and shift, checking his mirrors and blind spots, panicking anytime a car drives past on the opposite side of the road.

the vibrations of your moans combined with the tightness of your throat as you choke around him is sending the sensation straight to his balls, being tightened by his jeans cupping them.

"you're gonna make me fucking crash, sh-shit" he whines, jaw dropping as moans sporadically fall from his tongue.

matt can't take it any longer, yanking you dramatically from his dick, popping your mouth off of him with a wet sound as you coughed into the air, finally gasping a clean breath. your hand instinctively wipes your mouth, covered in his pre-cum and your own saliva.

you look up at him with big eyes, and that sends him absolutely off the rails.

"that was so fucking risky, i can't believe you," matt adjusts his grip, accelerating as he finds a clear patch of a dirt road ahead, aiming for it. your arms leans toward his dashboard, flicking his indicator on for him. you grin mischievously, biting your lip.

"then pull over so you can fuck me properly" you demand, and feel his car swerve instantly as he merges off the asphalt.

he rotates the wheel, one hand over the other in a heavy handed way, to find a safe place to park. the tyres crackle with the texture beneath you changing to gravel. your hand continues to stroke his shaft, mouth drooling with the desire to suck him off again.

matt's abs are clenching hard, back coming off from the seat again with a wince as your thumb rubs the underside of his now wet, sticky, cock.

"baby you're killing me, h-hold on, please," he whimpers, big hand coming down to grip your wrist tight as he frantically tries to put his car in park, heavy pedalling the brake finally.

matt flicks his hazards on, taking precaution even in his most chaotic, desperate state of mind. when the car is secure, your mouth comes down to suckle on his tip, before sliding down the length of his cock again. matt finally drops his shoulders and eases into the seat comfortably, not having the added stress of driving.

"feels so good, holy shit," his eyes clench closed before he exhales, snapping them back open to watch you engulf him again.

slushing and slurping sounds overtake the music playing from the radio and matt chokes on his strained groans.

he knots your hair in his fist to pull you off again, but you continue rotating your wrist around his base. with your hair in his grip, matt pulls you to his face quickly, his jaw slack. there's a dazed look on his face, mesmerised by you as you lock eyes.

"don't stop jerkin' me off, baby" he begs, holding your face close to his, noses almost touching as you breath into each others mouths. you feel your pussy clench and grow more wet at his hopeless tone.

"don't fucking stop." he whispers, crashing your lips together, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue.

the kiss is a mess, and trying to focus on linking your mouths in unison while stroking him passionately prove harder than you anticipate. you break the kiss, needing to watch your hand, but matt grabs your chin to turn you back.

"look at me. i'm s-so close"

"use your manners" you smile, pressing your lips together again, then breaking it, then kissing him again. he interrupts it with a gasp when you start pumping more vigorously.

"s-sorry. please. i need to look at you when i cum. so fucking pretty" he darts his eyes from yours, to your lips, his own lips shiny and perfectly pink.

you want to let him finish as fast as possible, squeezing him and stroking him strenuously, rolling your thumb over his tip and pinching it, getting him overly stimulated and out of breath. your lips brush, but don't fully meet as his breath shakes and he gasps and groans.

your hand is starting to cramp, but you ignore the pain as you fuck his dick with your palm, and matt raises his hand to grip the headrest of the passenger seat beside him, letting his hips adjust and thrust into your touch. "just like that, just like th-that" he cries out, blue eyes glued on yours as he tries not to roll them into the back of his head.

"ugh, fuck," he chokes.

projecting his hips upward as he throws his head back, matt finally releases, making a complete mess into your hand. you attempt to cup his tip, letting his hot, thick cum spray your palm.

the look on his face is pure euphoria, eyes heavy and breathing hitched. he grazes his teeth on your lips, trying to take you into another kiss, but he's occupied letting his orgasm play out. he looks so perfect when he's cumming, and coming down from it.

"feel better, my love?" you ask gently.

waiting for his response, you reach into the glovebox to grab tissues you know he conveniently has stashed, courtesy of it being chris's usual spot, and the mess he often brings to the car.

"i need to get out of these fucking jeans" he complains while readjusting the material of his crotch, making you chuckle as you clean your hand off, tossing the tissue onto the floor mat.

you pick yourself up, awkwardly trying not to collide with the sunroof as you start to climb into the backseat. giving matt a full shot of your ass, he slaps it lazily, still trying to regain his thoughts.

"get back here so i can help you with them" you say as you drop onto the tan coloured leather, leaning into the corner, back hitting the door.

"someone's gonna see us, y/n" he undoes his seatbelt, in contrast of his words.

"matthew, get your ass back here" you disregard his worry, knowing if you don't reassure him, or aren't stern, he'll let his stress consume him, when all you want is to make him feel good.

between the sun almost being fully set, the lack of liveliness surrounding you and the solid twenty percent on the glass, you're certain not a single soul would notice or care for what's bound to happen in the backseat.

"messin' with me all day and now you're giving orders" he ridicules, turning in his spot to brace the crawl into the back with you.

he shoots a glare at you as he supports himself, trying to keep stable. he presses his palm to the upholstered roof.

"and you're taking them, like a good boy" you affirm, starting to slide off your own pants, and panties, spread wide open by the time matt lowers himself to you.

"fuck" he lets out at the sight of you.

his knees are on the seat between your legs, and he shuffles his pants further and further down his thighs, hurrying to free himself.

he drops back onto his ass with an 'umph' sound, needing to get his jeans to his ankles, and when you strip free of your own lower half, you tug his off completely, throwing them into the front seat.

there's a considerable amount of room in the back, having the luxury of a mini van in your favour.

you scoot over to matt, who's man spreading, and stroking himself slowly. it only takes minutes before he's growing hard again, and you situate yourself on his lap.

his hands come to grip your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly, making you feel so small in his touch. he slides under the fabric of your shirt, and you help him remove it. your arms clash and collide with the roof, both of you giggling at the restriction.

he's looking at you like you're fuel to light a fire between his legs again, and it doesn't take long before he's erect, and all you want is to be filled.

"you just couldn't wait, huh?" he teases as he flicks hair off your neck, seeing it stick to your skin from the sweat forming.

you place your hands over his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to his chest. your exposed cunt is soaked already, and he knows he needs to feel you in the state you're in.

matt brings one hand between your legs, letting it brush up between your folds. he hums in delight, sliding through you with ease. you suck in a shaky breath as the tip of his middle finger traces over your pulsating clit, giving a light circling motion.

he arches his middle and ring finger underneath your entrance, palm to the sky.

"sink onto my fingers, baby" he directs, and you rise in your straddling position to align yourself perfectly.

slowly but surely, you let yourself get stretched out by his touch. his other hand is occupied by his own cock. he curls inside of you, grazing your inner wall.

you toss your head back and allow yourself to revel in the sensation. it feels good, but you need more. you grind onto his fingers, and matt notices your impatience.

he pulls you off him without hesitation and manhandles you, taking control by grabbing your waist and lining you up over his cock.

"this is what you wanted all day. isn't it, baby?" he tests. you nod eagerly.

you feel his plump tip tickle your pussy, a touch too light for your liking. you try to sway your hips, to gain anymore friction, but he has full advantage to start teasing you back now.

"fuck, please matt," you finally spit out, not having any desire to mess around anymore. being exactly what he needed to hear, he drops you onto his cock, a heavy and loud slap as your ass hits his thighs.

you lean back, gripping his knees, arching your back. finally being filled, you moan and squeak through tight teeth. letting out strained 'ohhh's' and 'fuck, yes, yes' on repeat, like a broken record.

"you ride my dick so fucking good" he slaps your ass, hard, making your body jolt as you bounce up and down.

your hands become unsteady, and you reposition to press up against the glass window. the windows are hazing over with steam. they're turning from black to grey, leaving a very distinct hand print. one matt probably has no intention of wiping clean.

matt starts kissing your neck every time your head drops to the side with pleasure, impossible not to whimper when he started nibbling on it. he gets more satisfaction out of watching you, giving you what you want.

“matt” you moan out his name, biting your lip after, trying not to make much noise. it's a natural instinct as you're usually never this far away from being heard.

“yes?” he asks. smartass. his beard tickles your skin as he rubs against you, inhaling your scent and the salty taste of your skin.

“i'm close, s-so close” you stutter.

you vigorously shake your head, trying your best to hold off your impending orgasm. he forces your hips further down onto his dick, driving you closer to the edge.

he pulls you into a deep, slow kiss for a few seconds and pulls away with your bottom lip in between his teeth. he starts tugging and pulling at your nipples with his fingers while using his tongue everywhere else, licking your chest and biting marks.

your core tightens and you gasp, giving matt a silent look that tells him you're about to release. you know he'll demand you look at him as you do so, so you take his jaw in your hand, probably grabbing a little too aggressively, but he doesn't seem to mind.

you hold eye-contact as you pull your faces close. you roll down onto him with all your weight, feeling his dick twitch inside you, and let yourself climax, hips jittery and weak. if matt wasn't holding you, you'd collapse.

he slides you off slowly, both of you watching the loss of contact happen. matt lays you down beside him as you catch your breath. you're both trying to escape your delirious states, sitting it total silence for a moment in the suddenly overwhelmingly hot car.

your faces are covered in sweat, and you're convinced you've been the least desirable that you have been all day. matt makes those thoughts disappear the moment turns to look at you, slouched in his seat, and huffs out a smile.

he slaps your thigh, using a grip on you to help him sit up. you love the afterglow plastered on his face, the interior light casts an orange shadow, and matt is looking at you with admiration.

"don't ever tease me like that again. not unless you want me to get into a car accident." he pants.

"no promises, knowing that's what it gets me." you giggle while turning into the seat, knowing you've been stirring the pot all day.

"shut up." he laughs.

end.

tag list: @luverboychris @recklessmatt @floofparker @teampurpleforlife @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @fake-sturniolos

[valeriianz]

Mega Popstar Dream and Hob, his extremely non-famous celebrity crush: THE FIC!

for @cuubism! based on this incredible post! Sorry it took me like, 6 months to write :') 5k later, here we are!

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“Alright, plans for today…” Lucienne plops down on the sofa across from Dream, a tablet in her hand and a cup of tea waiting for her on the coffee table. 

Dream is still in his sleep clothes; the pants of a mulberry silk, midnight black pyjama set, forgoing the matching long sleeve buttoned top for nothing but his favourite cashmere cardigan that is a size too big on him, draping over his shoulders elegantly and hanging open to reveal his bare, hair-free chest. He’s curled up on the corner of the couch with an old acoustic guitar in his hands, idly strumming away while a notebook sits waiting for him by his side.

Matthew, one of his trusted publicists, would sarcastically quip about how “work never stops,” but it’s more like “inspiration never stops.” Words and melodies are constantly floating around in Dream’s head, and if he doesn’t at least have a pen and paper with him at all times, they will drift away as soon as they come.

Dream listens as Lucienne goes over their itinerary. Awards season is upon them and these days a lot of Dream’s time is spent in appointments with designers and agents for campaigns and endorsements, even media training, still, at Dream’s level in his career. He still has the occasional gaff when speaking in anything that isn’t a practised interview. And, although Dream has gotten better at red carpet events, where a microphone is spontaneously shoved in his face, that coupled with all the flashing lights and overlapping chatter has made him dissociate more than a few times.

Dream nods along when Lucienne pauses to make sure he’s paying attention. He is. And she knows his quirks by now; that he needs to be constantly moving when taking in information. His fingers fluttering along the neck of the guitar, producing quiet blooms of sound that quickly fade away in the space between them.

“And then after lunch is the YouTube appearance…”

Dream stops playing.

“The what?”

Lucienne looks up at him over her coke-bottle glasses. 

“The interview with Centuries, the up-and-coming YouTube channel. We discussed it back in August.”

Right, Dream vaguely remembers the name. He doesn’t watch much YouTube… unless it’s interviews or clip compilations of Robert Gadling from his TV show, Prophecy. He’d be more ashamed of his search history if everyone on his team didn’t already know about his absurd crush.

Dream merely nods, trusting Lucienne and his team by now to handle trivial things like interviews or guest appearances. If he had needed to do any modicum of research beforehand, he would have by now. 

But now Dream’s imagination starts to wander, thinking about the video he’d watched before going to bed last night, his phone clutched in his hand while he took in a behind the scenes feature of the stars of Prophecy going through their period typical wardrobe and makeup, replaying Robert Gadling’s part over and over again. The way the hairdresser had combed her fingers through Robert’s hair, pulling it back to reveal his forehead and bushy eyebrows, expressive as ever, lifted up as he smiled widely in the mirror, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it.

Or the set’s costume designer taking Robert’s measurements, revealing the man in a thin white henley and boxer briefs, the camera only panning down for a moment to capture his tan, corded thighs just thick with hair and taking Dream’s breath away, squirming under the sheets of his too-big California king-sized bed. 

It was bad… Dream’s infatuation with Robert. His team had been worried at first, knowing the gossip columnists loved it when Dream got into a new relationship, shamelessly publishing questions of how long this one will last? And going down the timeline of Dream’s past lovers, all heat and passion at first, before inevitably getting snuffed out by their own intensity. 

Despite Dream’s track record– or maybe because of it– many people, male and female, had tried to capture the performer’s attention. Willing to endure the heartbreak at the end because, as nearly all Dream’s partners had attested to, Dream was an excellent lover. And perhaps, to them, the high was worth the pain.

But Dream had set himself on a firm break from romance. His heart couldn’t take it, so instead he pined, though not from afar. If media outlets were to take him seriously, they’d have a real story to invest in.

Perhaps newsmongers thought it was a joke, the way Dream was so candid about his interest in Robert. In past affairs, the public would just suddenly see Dream cozied up with a new paramour– no need to speculate when Dream would always just go for it.

Dream is surprised, too. His listeners are usually so quick to judge Dream’s suitors and even his relationships. Perhaps it is because Robert Gadling is barely a celebrity, in the eyes of Hollywood.

Prophecy is a BBC program, one of those low budget, historical dramas where romance doesn’t propel the plot, so unfortunately the series hadn’t garnered much success. Which Dream was boarderlined annoyed by. The writing was fantastic, the acting– superb. And Robert Gadling specifically… 

If Dream’s staff noticed how often his mind would wander into daydreams, a woebegone sigh escaping his lips, they didn’t say anything. Leaving Dream to write vague love songs that his fans speculated which ex it was about.

Despite his maddening crush on Robert Gadling, Dream refused to act on it. Not only because he was on a self-imposed break, but he truly was so terrified of rejection. Or worse, dating Robert and having things fizzle out, like they always did. 

Dream knew he wouldn’t survive it if Robert and him were to ever cross paths. So he made sure to steer clear of any events where they might overlap, even going so far as to inform his staff to keep their distance. 

Hiring a friend like Lucienne to be Dream’s manager had one downfall though; she knew him better than himself at times. And she was devious.

-----------------------------------------------------

Hob tugs on his ear as he sits in a chair at the table that’s been set up for his surprise meeting with Dream. The crew is still hovering– even after bustling around and getting everything set up.

It’s not that Hob is regretting this… but it is starting to feel awkward, waiting for Dream to arrive, to surprise him. What if the show’s producers were wrong? What if Dream took one look at Hob and turned right back around?

Though Hob had done some research of his own, after his agent had called him and offered the opportunity to him. Because that’s what this was… an offer— a favour, of sorts. He was barely getting paid for his time here, this was basically just for fun, and “exposure,” a word YouTubers loved throwing around. 

He’d heard of Dream, obviously, despite Hob’s lack of social media and smartphone. You’d have to be living underground to not have heard of Dream, the mega rock-star phenomenon that had risen to fame a short five years ago and was only getting more and more popular, especially as he began adding pop elements into his music.

Hob wouldn’t call himself a fan though. He knows the hits that played on endless repeat on the radio, what he hears in coffee shops and what his co-workers talk about. Hob doesn’t dislike the music, it’s very catchy and he can clearly hear why Dream is so popular. He is one of the few currently dominating the charts because he has actual talent. Dream writes and composes his own music and isn’t tied down by a label (anymore), it’s incredibly impressive.

Hob took the time to get into his music before this meeting. Dream’s lyrics are truly stunning, his arrangements unique and reflective of the words he would croon into the mic. Interestingly, Hob found himself enjoying the more dismissive tracks on Dream’s albums, the songs that weren’t mainstream, especially from his early records.

Hob took on the task of learning more about Dream like he would going into a new role. He liked falling into wormholes about a trade or language he had to learn, and he always put 100% of himself into anything he did. So it was inevitable that he would wind up discovering more and more things about Dream than he had originally intended. Becoming more and more interested and, unexpectedly, attached.

While he had been knee-deep in his music, Hob also watched plenty of interviews with Dream, finding the man to be more withdrawn and selective with his words. He was allusive and coy, and extremely awkward. Watching the way he would interact with TV hosts or answer random questions at red carpet events became endearing. When Dream was caught by surprise, this little lopsided smile would creep out and he would stammer over his words.

It was endearing, and surprisingly… cute.

Hob only had about a day to question if Dream really had a crush on him, like the producers of the show claimed. It didn’t take long before Hob found a late night interview with Dream where the host had pivoted to TV shows and casually asked Dream what he was currently watching.

Dream’s eyes lit up. He shifted to be more on the edge of his chair, and even leaned forward a bit.

“Prophecy.” Dream had said with full emphasis on every letter. “You watch it too, yes?”

“It is growing on me.” The host had admitted, similarly struck dumb by Dream’s entire switch in demeanour. 

And Dream goes on a tirade about how good the show is, the story, the set design, the costumes. How he’s not an actor, has never been on a TV or film set, but he can see all the detail and love and hard work poured into the show and is admittedly obsessed with it.

“And Robert Gadling…” Hob’s heart had leapt in his throat at the way Dream nearly moaned out his full name. “... he’s just so… passionate in his work. His face is so expressive and it’s like he becomes Ser Gideon.”

“Big fan, then?” The host smirked conspiratorially.

“Oh yes,” Dream admitted, crossing his legs and lolling his head to one side, getting comfortable. “I discovered him while watching Prophecy, and fell down a rabbit hole of his previous work. He mostly does stage, you know. And I’ve always admired live art, the theatre. And God– he does it so splendidly. He acts with his entire body and it’s just–”

“Sounds like you have a bit of a crush.” The host cuts in, his smirk sharpening as Dream throws a glare at him for interrupting. 

But then Dream smiles, a tiny thing at the corner of his mouth and his eyes fall. The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers, goading Dream on and encouraging his embarrassment.

“Well,” Dream pulls his head up, resting it in the palm of his hand. “He’s very dashing, wouldn’t you say?”

Dream’s fingers on his other hand drum along his knee, his gaze gone wistful and distracted. It’s adorable, and maybe could be seen as an act, if not for the answer he gives the host after the next question.

“Have you ever told him of this? I’m sure Robert would be very flattered to hear he has such a notable fan.”

“Oh no. I could never,” Dream withdraws slightly. “If I were to ever see his face in person I’d probably die.”

The audience laughs good-naturedly but Dream has a pretty pink flush spreading up his neck now. 

It’s all downhill from there, Hob discovers. Apparently that had been the first time Dream had admitted to his little crush on Hob and after that, the subject would be brought up again and again, sporadically throughout the course of (if the timestamps on the YouTube videos could be believed) over a year.

Over a year of the very famous Dream proclaiming openly his very serious attraction to Robert Gadling and Hob had somehow never known of this.

Until the day his agent called him, a couple months ago, and asked if he wanted to be on this show. The gimmick was– typically– people (read: fans) meeting their celebrity crush. But for this new season, Centuries had a twist: celebrities meeting their celebrity crush. 

Hob had no idea what to wear. For Dream it would be a surprise, unless his agent instructed him to dress a certain way, Hob could only assume the man would show up in casual attire. So that’s how Hob opted to present himself. He wore a forest green jumper, the sleeves pushed up in the warm cafe, and a pair of simple blue jeans. His hair had gotten pretty long, at the director’s request for the next season of Prophecy, so he’d pulled that up into a small bun that struggled to stay in place. He opted to put in his contacts, though Hob was starting to regret it, wanting something to fidget; his hand kept unconsciously lifting to touch frames that he wasn’t wearing.

Hob tried not to think too hard about his look today. He knew Dream (shockingly, unbelievably) liked him, but for some reason didn’t want him to be disappointed in what he saw. What if Dream took one look at him and realised Hob wasn’t what he thought? What if the real thing didn’t compare to whatever Dream was making up in his mind? And why did Hob care at all?

Perhaps, because… Dream was. Well. Dream. 

Hob wasn’t blind. Dream was beautiful. Hob was sure the lavish lifestyle Dream undoubtedly lived in helped, what with top of the line skin care products and a dietician to make sure he stayed healthy and youthful. Whatever other products Dream used in his hair, on his straight, perfectly white teeth, even down to his nails– clean and pretty, cuticles invisible, usually covered in varnish that matched with whatever expensive outfit he was wearing that day.

And Hob. Well.

Hob wasn’t shy, he knew he was conventionally attractive, the attention he used to get even before his appearance in television clued him in on that. But nothing about him really stood out. Just another face in the crowd. He didn’t have any outstanding features, no connections in the industry, he was a very private person who… sometimes regretted accepting his role in Prophecy. Into Hollywood. 

Hob didn’t have social media. It’s something his manager had admonished him about, early on in his career. It would help connect with his fan base, his manager had said. Would be good for connecting with others in the industry as well, and building a social media following was just something everyone did. But Hob had refused. He’d always been a private person, even before he started acting. It was the one thing he refused to give up: his confidentiality.

How could someone like Dream, who had limitless options, countless people fawning over him, find Hob in a sea of faces and latch on like he did? How was he able to know so much about him, when Hob had been so careful to not stand out? It was enough to make Hob skeptical, flattered– a swarm of contradictions but mostly… curious. Hob was so curious.

It was his best and worst trait.

The entire coffee shop, a locally owned one that perhaps was easiest to rent out for a couple hours, is barren of customers, only the crew of the YouTube show present as well as Hob’s small entourage and several of Dream’s agents, as well as a few of the cafe’s staff, patiently waiting behind the counter.

It’s a little awkward, to say the least. 

After Hob has drained his second glass of water and traced every grain on the table’s surface, someone announces that Dream is finally arriving and it’s like a switch is flipped in the room. Everyone either goes ramrod straight, or twitchy with nerves. It’s enough to break the tension in Hob, replaced by amusement, momentarily distracted and wondering if he’d ever cause such a reaction just by the sound of his name.

And now Hob, for his part, doesn’t know what to do.

The producers had informed him to just act natural, be himself, that this was essentially a blind date. But calling it a “date” only made Hob sweat. This definitely was not a date. He looked around at the camera’s pointed at him and at the door, a little red light on them blinking to indicate that they were recording. Hob sighed, slouching a little in his seat and taking steady breaths in through his nose and out his mouth, his hand out on the table’s surface and drumming his fingers. Christ, there wasn’t even music playing, all was quiet in the room.

At last, the front door to the cafe opens with a jaunty ring of a bell and Dream steps through. He halts as soon as the door swings shut behind him though, his gaze imperceptible behind a pair of dark Ray-Ban shades, but his head swivels around, visibly confused before a woman out of sight of the cameras (Lucienne, she had introduced herself as, Dream’s manager), catches his attention and nods with a smile.

Why is everyone so quiet? Hob bites his lip, he’s bursting to say something, even a simple hello, but had been told to remain silent until Dream initiated contact. But Dream is clearly uncomfortable, stepping cautiously, like a cat in unknown territory. 

“What’s this?” Dream speaks, mostly toward Lucienne. His voice sends a pleasant shudder up Hob’s spine, despite how caution colors his tone. It’s a lovely voice. Smooth like chocolate, clear and deep, commanding attention. Hob had heard it countless times through his headphones, singing or giving an interview, but the full force of it in person made Hob’s heart jumpstart in his chest.

And he’d only spoken two words.

Hob is tucked away into a corner table, next to a window with a deep burgundy curtain drawn over it. It’s perhaps why Dream only spots him only once he’s fully in the center of the room, his head turning and his entire posture freezing up.

It’s a little silly, to see how Dream still hasn’t taken off the sunglasses, but even more so that Hob is somehow able to tell that Dream’s gaze has found him, draped over him like a physical thing.

Hob waves, putting on an easy smile, afraid to spook the man further. He also– fuck these producers– speaks first.

“Hello,” Hob swallows his nerves, keeping his voice soft. “Would you, ah– would you like to sit?”

Hob gestures to the empty seat across from him.

It takes a moment, and Hob’s smile grows as Dream just continues to stare. He’s suddenly grateful for the shades, certain that if he had to experience the full force of those eyes on him, Hob would be just as– if not more– nervous than Dream.

And it’s the obvious fact that Dream is nervous that somehow manages to calm Hob down a little. It’s also doing wonders for his ego, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

Dream swallows, and the movement catches Hob’s attention, watching how his throat moves and the way the snow white skin there begins to flush a pretty pink. 

Cute.

Dream at last takes a step forward, then another. His focus zeroed in on Hob, which kicks up Hob’s calming heartrate, his breath coming out in shorter intervals because– fuck. Dream is dressed to kill.

A fitted black jacket with narrow labels, open and revealing a black, smoky, intricately woven sheer top with subtle ruffles that drape down the collar like a scarf. He’s wearing a silver watch on one wrist and a mess of silver bracelets on the other. The pants match the jacket and they go on for miles. Hob licks his lips as he feels his mouth drying. The black boots Dream wears reveal a red outsole, the flash of color barely perceptible with every step.

Dream’s lips part, expression otherwise unreadable, when suddenly he walks full on into the back of a chair.

The sound of the collision is like a balloon popping in the quiet room. His hands fly up to grab the chair, steadying it but his legs continue on, stumbling and causing the chair to scrape loudly on the hardwood floor. Hob makes to stand and help, just as Dream topples forward, one hand attempting to latch onto the table for support and taking that down as well in a noisy crash.

Hob vaults upwards just as the room tenses around them, frozen with uncertainty, and a camera comes in close. Hob barely perceives it, wanting nothing more than to shove the man operating it away, but his focus is on Dream, laying in a heap on the floor among the table and chair.

He hears some muffled jittering and sends a glare up in the general direction, catching Lucienne’s worried expression– she’s taken a few steps forward as well– along the way.

Hob collapses to his knees at Dream’s head just as the camera arrives and Hob can’t stop himself from waving the man away, shooting him a disgusted look, before looking to Dream again.

“Hey, you okay? Anything hurt?”

Hob’s hands spread out uselessly, wondering if it was okay for him to touch Dream. His glasses are askew and he’s lolled his head to the side, nearly knocking them completely off. Hob could see his eyes squeezed shut, his ears beet red.

“Just my pride,” came a small, miserable response.

Hob smiled, huffing a short laugh as he chanced to reach out and gently swipe his fingers over the top of Dream’s head, pulling hair out of his face.

Dream’s eyes open and peek sideways. Hob, again, felt his breath catch. Blue. Like the clear ocean, glinting from the sun’s rays. Or like gemstones– sapphire, sharp and bright. Wow.

“Wow…” Hob hears himself speak and blushes, heat spreading up his neck. 

Dream’s eyes widened, turning to flop on his back and letting those expensive shades fall from his face and Hob was struck by the full force of those blue eyes. 

They’re just as captivating as he’d imagined, even more so, up close and in person.

Hob almost forgets they are surrounded by a camera crew, almost lets himself touch Dream again, imagines putting his hands on either side of his face, just to feel how warm his skin must be, tinged pink. It’s so endearing… and such an attractive look on him, only making the blue of his eyes pop so much more.

But at that moment someone coughs politely and Hob comes back to reality, blinking and clearing his throat. The sound startles Dream, who flinches, still on the floor, and looks side to side.

Hob helps him up, slowly, his nerves singing as Dream’s hand lingers in his as he manages to stand to his full height. There’s a moment of corporeality where Lucienne finally approaches Dream, as well as someone else on his staff, double checking that he’s in fact, okay.

Dream nods and mumbles something to them, his gaze continuing to swing over to Hob, as if checking that he’s still there.

The irritation and distrust that Dream carried on his shoulders when he’d entered the room have vanished, replaced by awkward tension and acceptance. He’s still obviously embarrassed by what happened, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and his lips pulled in to form a thin line, eyes focused as he’s mic’d up, understanding now what kind of position he’d been forced into.

Well, maybe not forced. He looks at Hob again, who’s taken his seat again at the table. Not forced, tricked maybe. Dream probably thought this was an interview of some sort, there must’ve been a reason he was dressed up so well.  

Eventually, Dream sits with him, drinks are brought to them (a coffee for Hob and a tea latte for Dream), and they take a moment to sip the hot beverages.

It’s good coffee, at least. Hob looks into his drink as he sets the mug down, thumbing over the lip of the ceramic cup. He lifts his lashes to watch Dream, who’s also studying his drink, dunking the tea bag over and over again in the liquid.

Hob nibbles on his bottom lip, his fingers now tapping on the mug, his brain sifting through a thousand ice breakers, a thousand things to say, before sighing and leaning back as casually as he can.

“I know you didn’t plan this” Hob starts, falling back on an old charm he hopes will break the tension. “But this is the strangest way to get a man’s attention.”

Dream snorts into his drink and Hob laughs as it sprays foam over the table’s surface.

Hob wipes the mess with a napkin while Dream hides his mouth behind his hand, flustered all over again. Hob smiles. This Dream is so unlike how the man presents himself in public. Poised, professional, god-like. Dream wielded his star power well, it commanded attention and intimidation, only faltering enough to garner his loyal fanbase, to give himself human qualities that listeners could connect with and fawn over.

Like the rambling during red carpet interviews. Or talking about Robert Gadling… talking about him. 

But Hob had never seen… this. The stumbling, the blushing, the insecurity. It made something warm and incredibly fond well up in his chest.

Dream finally collects himself, taking a breath and dropping his hand back to fiddle with the handle of his cup.

“What about your attention?” Dream tilts his head to one side, eyes gone playful but still with a hint of nerves behind them, uncertainty.

Hob’s smile hesitates before he laughs softly, shaking his head in delight. 

He had not anticipated that Dream would flirt.

“I think all you had to do was look at me,” Hob murmured softly, ducking his head a little, letting himself be honest because– how could he not? 

Dream’s lips parted, his face gone lax. 

And that pretty blush crawling up his neck again, making Dream drop his head slightly, a tiny, shy smile peeking through, making something take hold of Hob’s heart and give it a squeeze.

“You can’t just say that.”

“I’m not. Just saying it.” He wants to say more, actually. Hob gets it now. He gets it. Why Dream has half of the fucking world at his feet.

Suddenly, Hob wishes he was the only one. The only person to worship Dream, to know his smiles and his voice, how easy it was to make him blush and stammer. 

Hob takes a long breath and realizes, oh God, I’m gonna fall in love, aren’t I?

Dream nearly squirms in his seat, meeting Hob’s gaze again like he can’t help it. Like he’s amazed Hob’s here at all, before he blinks and casts his gaze to the side, at the large handful of people in the dining room. Hob looks too– just a quick glance. He’d forgotten for a moment there that they had an audience.

So Hob hums thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on his cup before propping an elbow up on the table and resting his chin in his palm.

“So,” Hob grabs Dream’s attention, thinking it best to divert the conversation… for the moment. “... when did you know you wanted to become a singer?”

They relax again as the conversation turns casual. They share their history, from childhood to now. Dream admits he never entertained the idea that he could perform professionally… he liked to sing and play at open mic nights, but the idea of fame scared him. But it was all he knew how to do, he said. Play guitar and write poetry. 

Hob shares that sentiment, but with acting. He’d loved the stage and figured he’d be happy doing that forever. Auditioning for a small part in a film was just for fun, and then it’d snowballed from there. Prophecy was his first major role, but already he was making headway, catching attention (mostly because he was so private) and rejecting offers from other major studios. Hob did enjoy acting in front of a camera, it was fun, in a different way. But for now he wanted to stick with indie stuff and small roles. Unsure if this was the life he wanted for himself.

Dream had gone quiet again, at that, his gaze faraway. Hob wondered what he was thinking about, but before he could ask, Dream changed the subject, asking about Hob’s favorite plays.

Then Hob asks about Dream’s favorite poets, writers, what book he was reading right now. They discuss music and the cities they’ve lived in, sharing embarrassing stories that crack Hob up and make Dream laugh out loud, the atrocious sound unable to be hidden behind a hand.

Hob stares and stares and wonders what he’d been doing his entire life.

Dream has this aura about him, his own gravitational pull, and Hob is powerless to its charm, getting sucked into the point where Hob never wants to leave. He could get lost in the blue of his eyes, his shy smiles. Hob is smitten. And probably a little bit in love.

Before Hob is ready to let Dream go, someone announces that it’s time to wrap up. The spell is broken and the two men fall silent once more.

The director instructs them to say some final lines, some awkward dialogue that apparently is traditional with this channel’s gimmick, and then the shoot is proclaimed to be finished.

Like a dream, everyone is already chatting amongst themselves, scattering about, though the cameras on the tripods remain on. Lucienne walks up the table, thanking Hob for his time and energy, shaking his hand, before turning to Dream.

Hob’s head spins. The illusion is shattered, and Hob has a fraction of a second to wonder if it was all a setup.

But that thought is squashed as Dream’s face sours at something another man says over his shoulder, trying to encourage him to stand and make their way to their next appointment “... already 8 minutes behind schedule…” and Dream looks desperately towards Hob.

Hob stands at the same time as Dream, his mouth working uselessly as he scrambles to say something– anything, to keep Dream here. To borrow him in private for just a moment, just a second!

Hob is only reminded how Dream is an international celebrity by how quickly he is escorted away from him. Despite how well they’d gotten along, despite how they’d run over the shoot time because no one wanted to disturb them. Because there was something there, Hob knew it. And now it was being ushered away from him.

Frantic, Hob asks to borrow a pen from one of the staff members, hastily scribbling down his phone number on a napkin. He turns his mic pack off, and, with a quick glance around, spots Dream standing off to the side as his manager speaks with the show's producer, likely just saying goodbye to them as well.

Hob tries to school his expression into something that’s not insane as he marches up to Dream, catching his attention immediately and holding out his hand.

Dream takes it, a flash of curiosity and wonder– still– at the sight of Hob before him.

Hob clenches Dream’s cool, bony fingers in his, pressing the napkin against his palm.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Hob says, very aware that there are still cameras around them.

“Likewise,” Dream says, his chin tilting down, a secretive smile curling his lips as he certainly feels the napkin in his hand.

Hob smiles, too. He swallows before leaning in close, bringing his free hand up to cover Dream’s lav mic, just in case it’s still on, and brushing his lips against Dream’s ear.

“I’d love to see you again, without cameras.”

A quiet gasp tickles Hob’s eardrum and he grins as he pulls back, elated at the spark of mischief in Dream’s eyes.

“I would like that…” Dream whispers, his low voice cutting Hob straight to his core and knocking the wind out of him.

Hob can only nod, feeling dizzy, as Dream’s hand closes around the napkin and they separate.

Dream nods too, smiling as he’s finally turned away and out of Hob’s sight.

(stay tuned for part two! in like... another 6 months to a year lol)

[homesick4la]

complicated — hamzahthefantastic

5. apocalypse

contains: sfw content! fluff!

summary: hamzah takes you on date woohoo

a/n: the ending of this part just felt like the song apocalypse by cigarettes after sex so that is where the title is from!

last part: stay here forever

the second that hamzah had left your apartment that morning, you decided that it was time to officially end things with matthew. you couldn't keep leading him on- not when you knew just how infatuated you were with hamzah.

as much as you wanted to simply send him a text or a have quick phone call, you decided that telling him in person would be best. in your teenage years, you would’ve happily ghosted him. now that you were older, you realized that meeting face to face was the most respectful way to end your relationship with him.

you texted him asking him to meet you at a nearby coffee shop. and now, the two of you were sat across from each other in the nearly empty cafe. the room was eerily quiet as he studied your face, a look of confusion over his.

“so..” he spoke, “are we planning our seattle trip? i was thinking we could leave early in the morning on friday.”

“actually, that’s what i needed to talk to you about.” you explain before taking a sip of your latte.

his brows furrow slightly, “what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath. “i can’t go on that trip with you matthew and i- i don’t think we can keep seeing each other.”

his lips part in disbelief, an upset expression creeping onto his face.

“i’m so sorry matthew.” you apologize.

“where is this coming from?” he questions, his voice harsh. “what happened?”

“it’s not you- at all.” you hated how cliche you sounded. “you’re amazing like truly- you’re one of the most respectful guys i’ve ever met and you’ve been so sweet, i just-“

“you what?” he cuts you off, “you don’t want this?” he says, motioning his hands between the both of you as he refers to your relationship.

“listen, i thought i was ready to move on from my last relationship but i’m just not ready. that’s all. i need to work through some things before i’m ready to get into a new relationship.”

maybe you were lying to him just a little bit. but he didn’t need to know that the real reason you couldn’t move on from your last relationship was because you just can’t seem to stay away from your ex.

“you’re seriously still hung up on your ex?” he chuckles as he shakes his head angrily.

you weren’t sure how to respond. you sat there speechless as he spoke again.

“wow. that’s great. so this entire time that i’ve been doing everything to make you happy, doing everything to build this relationship with you— and you’ve just been thinking about your ex?”

you’ve been doing worse than just thinking about him, you thought.

“no, no- listen, i wasn’t trying to lead you on or anything. i really did like you- but my head isn’t in the right place yet and it isn’t fair to you for me to keep pretending that it is.” you explain, your chest tightening. you hated this.

"you could've told me sooner." he sighs, "instead of letting me believe we were actually forming something here."

you look down, "i'm sorry, i just didn't realize it until-"

"until what?" he cuts you off, "until you hooked up with him?"

fuck. you let out a harsh breath, looking away from him.

"nice, y/n. well, i hope it was worth it. i was ready to fully jump into a relationship and you were off fucking your ex." he whispered angrily.

"c'mon, you're being overdramatic- we only dated for a couple weeks." you roll your eyes at him. you knew he'd be a little upset but you could've never predicted this kind of reaction.

"no- fuck you y/n. i thought you were different." he says while standing from his seat, grabbing his cup of coffee and stomping towards the exit.

you prop your elbows on the table in front of you, bringing your head to your hands as you take a moment to process what just happened. the conversation didn't go exactly as planned, but at least it was over.

and now you could focus all your attention on rebuilding what you had with hamzah.

…

the next day was spent feeling embarrassingly excited over your date with hamzah. before he had left your apartment the other day, you two decided to unblock each other’s numbers. the “no contact” era was officially over. and god, you were happy about it.

he texted you telling you to “dress up pretty.” and that he was picking you up at seven.

so now, at five o’clock, you were already doing your makeup. you couldn’t help it. you were so excited.

you were sitting on your bathroom counter, applying each product while singing along to cheesy love songs.

after, you carefully curled your hair and slipped into a long, silky black dress. it was simple but it fit you perfectly- made you feel sexy.

as you walk outside your apartment building, you feel the crisp night air hit you, bringing goosebumps to your uncovered arms. he looks over at you from his spot in the driver’s seat and smiles before climbing out of the car. he walks over to the passenger side, holding open the door for you.

you sit down on the seat and hmazah shuts the car door before leaning his elbows onto the open window, quickly pressing his lips to yours.

he smiles as he pulls away, “hey pretty girl.”

his eyes scan you up and down, his smile never leaving his face. the way he looked at you made you feel like the most attractive woman alive.

“hi.” you respond, unable to contain the excited grin that crept onto your face.

he walks back around, climbing back into the driver’s seat and starting the car. he drives you to the small italian restaurant you two had frequented often within the duration of your relationship.

it was the restaurant you two went to for every anniversary, any sort of celebration, or birthday. there was a piano player that played quietly in the corner. the room was illuminated with candlelight among the tables within the room.

everything about the place was beautifully warm. it’s why it was your guy’s go-to fancy dinner place.

the owner, antonio, spotted the two of you from across the room. quickly walking over to your table.

“my favorite couple!” he exclaims, arms reaching out to gesture towards you two. “finally back together!”

you turn your head away, laughing at antonio’s familiar boldness.

“you miss us that bad?” hamzah asks, grinning.

“miss you? no- i missed the drama. every time you two came in it was like watching a movie. much more entertaining than the dirty dishes.” he laughs.

“mhm, thank you for the warm welcome.” you say, stifling a laugh.

“as always.” he responds quickly, “i’m guessing that you two want your usual?”

“yes, please.” you answer him, smiling at him as you hand over the menu that had been lying on the table in front of you.

he nods before walking back towards the kitchen.

hamzah looks back towards you as antonio walks off, “he totally missed us.”

“he missed being nosy.” you correct him, giggling.

hamzah laughs with you. as the laughter dies down, his eyes lock with yours- a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you question, a hint of sass in your tone.

“just wondering how you get even more beautiful each time i see you.” he replies, reaching his hand across the table to interlock his fingers with yours. his thumb rubbing gently across your skin.

“oh, stop.” you look away, trying to hide your blushed cheeks and uncontrollable smile from him.

“you’re still the worst at taking compliments.”

“mm, maybe i’m just not as conceited as you are.” you tease.

“conceited? nah. it’s just confidence, baby. you think i’d be able to pull someone like you without it?”

you shake your head at him. you remember just how charming he was the first time you two met. you were taken aback at first- his confident demeanor being a stark contrast from the awkwardly funny character he portrayed online. his flirty personality had caught you by surprise and reeled you in.

"you could pull anyone you want, hamzah. i mean- look at you! i know you've seen all those edits of yourself." you ramble, trying to emphasize just how attractive he was.

he laughs, "people just edit to edit- it's a creative outlet. it's like an art form."

"no, no- they edit you because you're gorgeous."

you watch his mouth upturn into a sweet smile. "thank you," he pauses, "see how easy it is to accept a compliment?"

you laugh in response. soon, antonio brings out your usual order. you two continue talking about anything and everything while sharing the pasta and sipping on your glasses of wine.

he was absolutely in his element. making witty jokes while slipping in the occasional compliment. retelling stories you’d heard a thousand times and making it just as interesting as it was the first time. you were so effortlessly drawn to him.

and he truly looked beautiful. the candlelight illuminated his face in way that made him look almost angelic. you could tell he took extra time getting ready- each curl laying perfectly on his head.

he was wearing a black button up, sleeves rolled up his forearms. the sight of the undone top button bringing indecent thoughts to your mind. you imagined unbuttoning all those buttons, sliding his shirt off, running your hands along his biceps…

“you ready to get out of here?” he asks, snapping you out of your fantasies.

“yeah.” you smile, collecting your purse from off the ground.

as you walk out of the building, you turn to him, “did you want to come back to my apartment?” you ask, hoping your fantasies would become a reality.

“nope.” he grins mischievously. you feel disappointment bubbling inside you until he continues. “not yet—i’ve got plans for us. what does nicki minaj say in that one song? the night is still young?”

you chuckle, "that's a great song! we're listening to that in the car." you demand as you two approach the car.

he doesn't tell you where you two are headed during the drive, explaining that if he told you, it would "ruin the surprise." you guys ride with the windows down. you stick an arm out the window- the crisp air hitting your skin in a way that was refreshing.

you two blast music during the drive. you forced him to listen to your corny pop songs and he unashamedly sang along with you. his hand finds it way to your thigh. his fingers dance along the silky material of your dress. his touch brings butterflies to your stomach.

you were on the outskirts of the city now, driving through tree-filled hills. where was he taking you?

finally, the car approaches a parking lot in front of a dome shaped building. the architecture was breathtaking. but you still wondered why he had taken you here.

"what is this place?" you ask, stepping out of the car.

"an astronomical observatory. you always talked about how sad it made you that we couldn't really see stars in the city, so i wanted to bring you to the stars." he answers, walking toward you. "and i know how into constellations you are, so i just thought-"

"hamzah." you cut off his rambling. you step closer to him, reaching your arm out to place a hand on his cheek. his eyes are locked on you, scanning your face. he looked as if he was trying to read your expression- have better insight into your mind.

you inch your face closer to his. your noses touching as he brings his hands to your waist.

you close the gap between you two, colliding your lips with his. the kiss was slow, passionate. you pull away, keeping your hands on his face as you say, "you're so sweet. thank you for taking me here."

you loved how thoughtful he was. he noticed each intricate detail of you, and remembered each one. it felt so good to be seen in that way.

he interlocks his fingers with yours as you walk into the building.

you enter the main hall. the building was even more beautiful on the inside. the navy blue walls were lined with glowing dots in the formation of constellations and images of various planets. there were numerous signs with information on astronomy and interactive stations.

"this place is cool." he exclaims, "you like it?" he looks down at you, grinning.

"i love it." you smile at him, giving his hand a quick squeeze before pulling him into a room full of projectors.

the dark room had a projection of a star's life cycle, showing the star's evolution from a nebulae into a massive star that eventually ends in a supernova explosion.

hamzah's eyes watch the projection curiously. "the explosion at the end is quite dramatic." he comments.

"stars are very dramatic. they burn so bright- they essentially destroy themselves in the end."

he turns his head toward you. "very poetic."

"it's just science," you laugh, "they run out of hydrogen fuel."

he smiles at you, "you make science sound like poetry."

you give him a soft, shy smile before dragging him to the other side of the room where constellations were projected along the large wall and the ceiling above you.

"alright, smarty pants- what's this one?" he points to the constellation directly in front of him.

your heart warms at the sound of the familiar nickname. "that one is orion. it's supposed to look like a giant hunter holding up a sword." you explain, using your pointer finger to trace the outline. "oh! and that one over there- is scorpius. the scorpion that was supposedly sent to sting hunter orion after he said that he could defeat any beast. "

"woah, i didn't know constellations had crazy lore like that."

"yeah, and that's just one version of like hundreds of different stories across different cultures- it's really cool."

he looks at you sweetly, "that is really cool." he says. and you can tell that he means it.

you stay in there a while, explaining the lore behind each constellation hamzah pointed to. eventually, you two make your way up towards the outdoor observation area.

this was a large outdoor balcony filled with multiple large telescopes leaned against the metal railing along the edge.

you make your way towards the first telescope you see, quickly bringing your eye to the lens.

"it's so pretty! look!" you move to the side, letting hamzah take a peek.

after a while of taking turns looking at the stars up close, you two find a bench, sitting down while still looking up at the night sky.

"tell me some more star facts." he requests as he drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer toward him. his warmth comforting in the cold night air.

you think for a second. "in ancient times, people thought their entire fate was predestined by the stars."

"really?" he asks, and you nod in response. "what do you think?"

"i think that the idea that our lives are sort of 'written in the stars' is kinda comforting. but sometimes, i think it's silly to put so much faith into bundles of burning gas." you laugh.

"i think those bundles of burning gas are doing something right." he responds.

"yeah? how so?"

"because they brought me here. with you." he glances over to you.

you meet his glance, "are you saying we were written in the stars?"

"yeah." his lips turn into a soft smile.

"you're such a romantic." you laugh, playfully hitting his chest with your hand.

"hey! i can't help it! you bring it out of me." he chuckles.

you sit in silence together for a moment. you rest your head to his shoulder as you continue staring up at the stars in front of you.

the observatory was far enough from the light pollution of the city that you could actually see stars. many of them.

you notice hamzah's head turning side to side- as if he was scanning the area.

looking around with him, you realize you two were alone out here.

he stands from his spot on the bench, stepping in front of you and reaching a hand out.

"are we leaving?" you question.

"no, no- just c'mere." he says, reaching his hand closer to you.

you take his hand and he leads you to the middle of the rooftop.

he stops. he takes both your hands in his and places them on top of his shoulders. after, his own hands find their way to your waist.

"dance with me."

"hamzah, we don't have any music." you giggle.

"just follow my lead." he chuckles, moving his feet and swaying your bodies together.

you move together in the middle of the observation area. the only source of light coming from the moon and stars above you.

you snake your arms around his neck as you continue swaying with him. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to him tightly. you rest your head to his chest- the sound of his heartbeat bringing you peace.

you feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you dance.

this moment must've been written in the stars, you think. you were always meant to be here- to be with him.

a/n: we r so back. if my star lore is wrong im sorry.... blame google....also i think the next part is going to be smut.. unless yall dont want that then i will think of something else lol so let me knowww also i did not proofread bc im tired

k bye muah

[nicholasluvbot]

YOU'RE THE SUN THAT'S IN MY EYES ( SEOK MATTHEW )

— two best friends, a million missed hints, and one group of very impatient matchmakers.

୨୧ fem!reader 𖦹 ( 1573 words ) ⩇ fluff & crack

You had a problem. A very big problem. And that problem was Matthew.

Matthew was your best friend in the whole world. He had been for a while. Except, somewhere along the way, being around him started to make your heart race, and suddenly, you found yourself harboring a very inconvenient, very distracting crush on him. It was ridiculous, honestly. Your heart only acted up because Matthew was nice. He was sweet to everyone, not just you. Surely, you’d get over this stupid infatuation soon. But the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

It was all his fault. Seriously. Because how were you not supposed to swoon whenever he grinned at you? You felt like a complete fool, getting all giddy like a lovesick teenager when Matthew probably didn’t even notice. He was just being friendly, right? That’s what best friends do!

But there were moments. Little moments. That made you question this. Like that one time, when you went to get coffee before an exam, and he’d taken your cold hands in his, lifted them closer to his mouth, and pressed his lips against them to warm them. You were not prepared for that. You swore your knees buckled the moment he did that, heart beating fast and hands still shaking as you went into the exam.

Or how, in class, he always insisted on sitting next to you. His leg would always be pressed against yours, a constant point of contact that left your skin buzzing. And when you pulled away, you’d see his shoulders slump in disappointment from the corner of your eye.

And then there was the heart. The stupid, wobbly-looking heart he once drew on the back of your hand while you were studying. Normally, he’d just draw a penis to annoy you, but no, this time it was a heart. And he’d done it with that little grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Matthew was infuriating. Infuriatingly adorable. He was also the funniest and kindest guy you knew. No matter how bad your day was, he always greeted you with that infectious smile—the kind that made your heart stumble and your lips mirror his before you could stop yourself. That was the effect Matthew had on you. He was your walking sunshine, and you were hopelessly addicted to his warmth.

Matthew thinks you’re the stupidest girl on earth. And yes, the prettiest too, but he’ll get to that part later. Right now, you were the stupidest girl ever! He was grappling with the fact that despite all the obvious hints he’d been dropping, you were still completely oblivious to his feelings. It was driving him insane!

He’d been trying so hard to make it clear—flirting, being extra touchy and attentive, drawing hearts on your hand (which he swore was a huge gesture)—but you seemed to think he was just being friendly. And don’t even get him started on Taerae, who kept insisting that Matthew’s so-called “hints” weren’t hints at all, just Matthew being his usual bubbly self.

Matthew strongly disagreed. To him, it was crystal clear that he was practically waving a neon sign that read “I have feelings for you!” He was convinced that if he came right out and told you he loved you, you’d just smile and say, “Thanks,” thinking he was just being friendly. It was infuriating, and frankly, a little heartbreaking.

Maybe you liked Matthew just as a friend. Maybe you were immune to his charm. But if that were true, then why did you look at him like you wanted to kiss the life out of him? And why did you turn bright red whenever his hand brushed against yours, as though a mere touch was enough to set your whole world on fire? So many questions in his head, each more perplexing than the last. He felt like he almost had the answers, but then a creeping doubt would settle in—what if he was just reading too much into it?

The more he tried to make sense of your reactions, the more tangled his thoughts became. The way you laughed at his jokes no matter how lame they were, the way you leaned in unconsciously when you spoke to him, and the way your hands would idly reach up to his hair and play with it—it all seemed like more than mere friendship to Matthew. But the thought that he was just seeing what he wanted to see haunted him.

It didn’t take long for your friends to catch on, too. And God, were they annoying about it. Hao would peer at you and Matthew over the top of his glasses, face scrunched up in utter disgust whenever you two shared even the briefest interaction. A smile? Cue the exaggerated eye roll.

Gyuvin and Ricky weren’t any better, making it a point to cough obnoxiously loud whenever Matthew was trying to speak to you.

“Hey Y/N, your hair looks—” cough, cough. “I really like your—” COUGH, COUGH!

It was like being under constant surveillance by a team of over-the-top drama queens.

Gunwook, though, was the real menace. He’d lean in to give Matthew a hug and end up “accidentally” pushing him toward you, sending you both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. And yet, despite the chaos, neither of you seemed annoyed. If anything, you both secretly enjoyed the feeling of being in each other’s arms, touches lingering just a little longer. And though you’d never admit it, your friends knew. They’d just watch you and Matthew smile at each other with knowing smirks.

Yujin took things to an entirely new level. He’d let out a loud, dramatic gasp whenever your hand brushed against Matthew’s, throwing his hands over his eyes like he’d seen the most scandalous thing ever.

And Jiwoong—this guy had a knack for trickery. Somehow always convincing you and Matthew to wear matching clothes or accessories without either of you realizing, until the boys saw you.

The moment you’d walk in with Matthew, both of you wearing an item of the same color or print, they would erupt into cheers, saying that you two were “basically a married couple now.”

Taerae would then start singing a sad ballad, dragging out every note as much as possible, while wiping fake tears from his eyes, while Hao, Ricky, and Gyuvin would start coming up with baby names. The teasing was relentless.

Hanbin was the only normal one among you. The one beacon of sanity. If anything, he probably felt more embarrassment than you or Matthew ever did. While everyone took a chance to push you two together, Hanbin would just watch from afar, arms crossed, head shaking in disappointment. And when he noticed that you and Matthew actually enjoyed the teasing? Oh, that made it even worse.

Like that one time at a café. The whole group was seated, enjoying their drinks, when Gyuvin decided to be, well, Gyuvin. “Kiss her! Kiss her!” he chanted loudly, just because you’d taken a sip of Matthew’s drink. And of course, the others immediately jumped in, some even banging their fists on the table like they were at a sports game rather than a quiet café. They yelled louder and louder, forgetting about the innocent people around who were probably annoyed by the chants. Hanbin, as usual, just stood off to the side, pretending not to know any of you. His face was buried in his hands as the barista shot your group a death glare. The inevitable happened: you were all kicked out. And Hanbin, red-faced and mortified, sighed deeply as he trailed behind the rest of you.

But nothing could compare to the stunt they’d pulled just now. You and Matthew had cluelessly stepped into the elevator, like you always did, only for it to break down while you two were trapped inside.

“Shit, what do we do now?” you asked, pressing the buttons on the elevator with urgency.

Matthew wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled you toward him. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just the boys playing another prank,” he said softly.

You relaxed at his words. Ricky probably paid someone to do this—at least, you hoped. You went to stand beside Matthew, leaning on the cold elevator wall next to him.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you rubbed your temple and said, “Honestly, they’ve lost all sense of shame.”

Matthew chuckled at your words and turned to face you. “You know, maybe we should just save them the trouble and go out.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, but the grin on your face gave your feelings away. Matthew’s hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you toward him.

The others waited with bated breath, hoping you’d be stuck long enough for something to happen, hoping this would finally force you two to make a move. And it worked. When the doors finally pried open a few minutes later, there you were, mid-kiss, with Matthew’s hand tangled in your hair as you both finally gave in to the tension that had been building for what felt like forever.

The second Gyuvin saw you, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “THEY FINALLY KISSED! OH MY GOD!” as he jumped around. Meanwhile, Yujin stood there, completely flabbergasted at the sight in front of him, mouth hanging open.

© NICHOLASLUVBOT. DO NOT PLAGIARISE , STEAL , TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

[mattsfavoritestar]

LATCH, matt sturniolo

synopsis… matt meets a girl at a party and becomes infatuated by her

warnings… mpdg!reader, very small angst, fluff

thank you @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

everything was so loud.

matt didn’t know if his ears were gonna burst from the loud bass of the speakers before his eyes went blind from the flashing colorful lights. he sat in the far back of the room—solo cup nursing in one hand while his phone, flashing twenty percent, rested in the other.

his friends were nowhere to be found, and his brothers, who were supposed to stay near him, vanished the moment they walked in. matt’s leg bounced with angst; he desperately wanted to leave but didn’t feel like he had a real reason to. with a quick swing of his cup, matt got up to make his way to an empty room in hopes of locking himself in solitude.

as he shuffled through the crowd, he mentally cursed the people he came with as he caught glimpses of them. by the time matt made it to a room, he shut the door quietly and leaned on it with a heavy sigh. matt didn’t register the body laying on the bed facedown until she said something.

“you aren’t here to drug me and then assault me, right?” she asked, though it came out muffled.

matt jolted at the voice, then shook his head before realizing her head wasn’t facing him. “no—i, uh, just wanted to chill in here for a bit… if that’s okay,” he rambled.

the girl sat up with a small laugh. she could hear his nervousness in his voice—it intrigued her. “so what’s your name, stranger?” she asked.

matt stared at her in awe; short, washed-out blue hair with bangs that curled toward her face. it wasn’t his first time seeing someone with colored hair, but the way hers looked, paired with her outfit, made her seem unreal—a fairy almost. she tilted her head and furrowed her brows in confusion. matt snapped out of his daze.

“sorry—s’matt,” he quickly said.

she smiled at him sweetly, then took in his appearance. suddenly, matt felt self-conscious in his hoodie and jeans. he ruffled his hair as he shuffled his feet. he didn’t notice her getting up, so he was startled as her eyes were a lot closer than before.

“wanna get out of here, matthew?” she asked lowly.

his face heated up at the close proximity, but he still managed to nod his head. she smiled before reaching for the door and dragging him out. the mystery girl led him through the crowd and out the door. he realized he didn’t know anything about her—let alone her name.

“you never told me your name, by the way,” he quietly said.

“you never gave me one,” she shrugged.

matt stared at the girl in confusion. did she not have a name? was she messing with him?

“okay… can i call you pixie?” he cautiously asked.

she shrugged, then gave him a cheshire cat smile. “do you have a car, matthew?” she asked. matt pulled out his keys in response.

when she asked him about his car, matt didn’t think she meant that she would be driving it. but here they were, speeding down the empty freeway as matt had a tight grip on the dashboard and door handle. when she asked for the aux, he didn’t expect her to play the entire soundtrack from the familiar multiversal spiderman movie.

“relax, matthew, i told you i got you—didn’t i?” she said, laughing at his panicked expression. she was right; she had promised him the moment she asked for the keys.

“just—slow down a bit? please?” he practically squeaked.

“close your eyes,” she said, glancing at him quickly. matt gave her a confused look before doing it. “do you feel that? the buzzing, i mean.”

matt wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the acceleration. the streetlights flashed through his sealed lids—he felt like he was in a movie.

when he opened his eyes, she was looking back at him. they were parked in front of a mcdonald’s.

“kinda craving a mcflurry,” she said, breaking eye contact.

matt followed behind her with a stumble. he saw the blue-haired girl walking back to him with a displeased look.

“shit’s busted as per usual,” she grumbled.

as she made her way to the car, a group of people walked past, causing her to halt.

“pixie?” matt quietly called out.

she let out a heavy sigh before turning back to him with a smile. “hey, do y’wanna go to the store? i think target’s open—i’m feeling like i wanna go red,” she said, turning back and rushing over to the car.

matt looked over his shoulder at the group, who were laughing and not paying the two any mind. he was confused about what made her mood slip but brushed it off. he got back into the car with her, giving her a quick glance.

“are you okay?” he asked.

she turned the music up and ignored his question.

matt felt the air shift. it was subtle but undeniable. the playful edge in her voice had dulled, and the energy that radiated off her like sparks seemed dimmer. matt’s grip on the seatbelt tightened as he watched her fiddle with the knobs of the stereo, her fingers tapping erratically to a beat that wasn’t there.

“pixie,” he tried again, softer this time. “what’s going on?”

her gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead, but her foot eased off the accelerator slightly. the silence between songs stretched long enough for matt to hear her sigh, low and barely audible over the hum of the car engine.

“it’s nothing,” she finally said, her voice light but strained, like she was trying too hard to sound unbothered. “just… ghosts.”

matt furrowed his brow. “ghosts?”

she gave a half-laugh, shaking her head as if she could physically shake the thought away. “you know, the kind that hang around even when they shouldn’t. the ones you think you’ve outrun, but they catch you in a stupid mcdonald’s parking lot anyway.” her tone was bitter, and it didn’t match the manic, carefree girl who had dragged him out of a suffocating party not long ago.

matt wanted to press, but something told him to tread carefully. instead, he nodded. “i get it,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he did. but the truth was, he knew what it was like to carry invisible weights—his own ghosts just took different shapes.

her lips quirked upward, barely a smile. “do you, though? you seem like the kind of guy who has it all together. clean-cut, polite… hoodie-wearing matthew.”

matt scoffed, unable to hold back a laugh. “if by ‘together,’ you mean accidentally wandering into a stranger’s bedroom to escape a party i didn’t even want to go to, then yeah. totally got it all figured out.”

that earned him a real laugh, bright and short but genuine. she glanced at him briefly, her blue bangs shifting as her head tilted. “touché.”

the car slowed to a stop in the nearly empty parking lot of a 24-hour target. she pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to face him, her eyes glinting with something he couldn’t quite read. “alright, matthew. you’re coming with me, and we’re buying hair dye. red, like i said. maybe some snacks, too, if you behave.”

matt raised an eyebrow. “if i behave?”

she smirked, already halfway out of the car. “yeah. if you’re good, i might let you pick the snacks.”

he shook his head but followed her anyway. the fluorescent lights of the store buzzed faintly, and matt couldn’t help but feel like he’d stepped into another world entirely—one that revolved around her gravity. she weaved through the aisles with purpose, grabbing a box of vibrant red dye off the shelf and turning to him.

“what do you think?” she asked, holding it up as if she were modeling it.

“i think you could pull off any color,” matt said honestly before he could stop himself.

her expression softened for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability passing through her eyes. “careful, matthew,” she teased, her voice quieter now. “flattery might just make me keep you around.”

they roamed the store longer than necessary, tossing random items into the basket: sour candy, a bag of cheetos, a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars she insisted they needed. but matt didn’t mind. for the first time in a while, he wasn’t in a rush to leave, wasn’t desperate to retreat into solitude.

back in the car, she leaned her head against the seat, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “thanks for humoring me tonight,” she said, her voice unusually sincere. “i needed this.”

matt smiled, surprising himself at how easy it felt. “me too.”

the rest of the drive was quieter, the frantic energy that had propelled her earlier now replaced with something softer.

they returned to the party when it was nearly empty. matt stepped out of the car after her, the buzz of the night air alive in his chest. she leaned against the hood, her arms crossed as she looked up at the dark sky.

for a moment, matt felt like he couldn’t breathe. there was something about her, the way she carried her chaos like armor, that made him want to stay.

“pixie?” he called softly.

she didn’t look away from the stars. “yeah, matthew?”

“can i stick around?”

she smiled faintly, her gaze still skyward. “yeah,” she said, voice soft. “maybe you should.”

[enhaeil]

MATCHING CLOTHES ☆ 제로베이스원

c/w : none ¿

성한빈 -

item: flannel

totally not based off him and hao having matching flannels...

but don't worry, you and him have a couple too. you can be seen wearing them when y'all go grocery shopping together or even at the airport. i feel like whatever relationship hanbin ends up in, it WILL be goals so!! we move

김지웅 -

item: coats

jiwoong is so protective and caring ESPECIALLY during the winter. he always makes sure you're bundled up from head to toe because he doesn't want you to get sick </3 and decided to get you both matching brown peacoats. even threw in matching hats and gloves too for good measure.

장하오 -

item: rings

similiar to ricky, hao noticed how much you loved rings, especially HIS rings, and would notice you wear them or spin them around on his fingers. for an anniversary gift, he bought y'all both matching rings with the day y'all met on there...I'M SICK

석매튜 -

item: hoodie

started off with you constantly steal his and then he was just like "well babe if you like them so much, i'll just give them to you and buy myself more." so now y'all can match </3 . hi matthew im free Saturday

김태래 -

item: shoes

remember that zb1 episode where they were painting shoes? he painted you a pair as well. he made sure to add so much detail and care into your design and even signed his initials at the end. he's literally a patoot

리키 -

item: necklace

ricky noticed how infatuated you were with his necklace, whether you stared at it while it was dangling above you or when you played with it absentmindedly while y'all cuddled. one day you came home and he surprised you with one exactly like his! you never took it off after that.

김규빈 -

item: plushie

gyunini, to be exact. he actually got u all the zeroni plushies, but he made sure to buy the BIGGEST one for his. he has a matching one on his bed too and also the matching plushie keychains...</3.

박건욱 -

item: hair

gunwook's hair is purple? your hair is purple. he decides to do black? suddenly, your hair is black too. you decide to wake up and be ginger? gunwook, too. it's literally so cute like he loves you so much, sometimes he'll even dye your hair for you, sneaking a few kisses in between...YOU NOT SLICK!

[br4in-r0tten]

okay so I was sick and dying for the past few days but now that I'm feeling better drawing doesn't feel like a chore anymore woohoo

I have 2 more arts almost ready (art trade and meet the artist) as well so stay tuned for that!

as for the comic- (ramble about my SPTO sona below)

I tried to think more about Nate and at first I wanted em to be Scott's classmate cuz I love their gang as well buuuut I think it'd be weird to fall for someone who punched your friend to death lmao (maybe gonna do like an alternate timeline where they're in a relationship with Scollace and not PatelGraves and go along with my original idea)

So in this AU Nate is Roxie's classmate! I love her as well. They have a queerplatonic relationship and are really close, so Roxie told him about the league in passing conversation, Nate was curious and had nothing to do so he convinced her to visit Rockit when Matthew Patel was gonna fight Scott. Roxie briefly told him about Mattie and Nate got interested bc- theater kid? pirate?? emo???

He doesn't have many friends aside Roxie and he wanted to come out of his shell so this was a perfect occasion to do so. Surface level he's pretty confident and (maybe??) charming but his anxiety still lingers, especially when he's around people he puts on the pedestal (don't do that chat it's a major character flaw) and a pirate emo theater kid sounds like the perfect candidate for that.

The pages start right after he defeated Scott (the scene where he's yelling "WHAT'S GOING ON??") but I also planned to do one page before that where you'd see Nate and Roxie's conversation. Buuuut those 2 already took enough time so imagine it's an awesome cool page by just looking at the dialogue aight??

They'd sit somewhere in the corner to see the whole thing, after it was over and everyone went their way, Roxie would push Nate towards Mattie where the finished page starts

(Nate is red, Roxie is violet)

Also Nate/Matthew ain't really infatuated with the other one yet, they're just very excited for someone to talk to (they're both losers at this point)

[eideticmemory]

WILDEST DREAMS | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

While directing a new film, Matthew becomes infatuated with you, the lead actress, and he’s having a hard time not making it obvious.

Word Count: 4k.

Warning/Includes: Age gap, pining, smut.

The best thing to do is be casual. Calm, collected, cool. You’re not doing anything wrong. In fact, you’re not really doing anything at all. It’s all in the walk - slow, steady strides - you don’t want to look too eager. Keep your head up high, only glance down for a moment at a time, keep your hands busy.

Play the part.

As your knuckles lightly rasp on the trailer door, you look around, fanning yourself with the stack of paper in your hand. When you turn back around, Matthew is opening the door and this grand, bright smile stretches across his entire face the moment he sees you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you grin, tilting your head. “Wanted to go over something in the script with you. Do you have a second?”

Only taking a beief moment to look around the barren lot, Matthews eyes fall back on you, and there’s a certain spark in them as he says, “Of course. Of course, come in.”

“Thanks,” you tell him as you step inside.

And then the door is locked and the script is on the floor and you’re straddling his lap, your mouth open so he can stick his tongue inside of it. Your fingers tangle themselves in his curls, your nails scratching his scalp. He makes this soft purring noise, but his hold on your waist is tight, his nails digging through the fabric of your shirt and into your skin. With a roll of your hips, he’s left gasping for air and his hands begin to wander, trailing from your waist to your thigh. His fingertips creep towards the apex of your hips and you tighten them around his waist. It’s at this point that you grab onto his wrists and you’re well aware that he doesn’t have to let you pin them behind his head, he could easily stop you. If he wanted to. He doesn’t. He wants to do absolutely whatever you want.

Matthew’s head rolls back and you take the opportunity to plant gentle kisses on his neck. He wonders if you know how much friction you’re creating between your bodies, but then he feels your nails sink into the skin on his wrist, the vibration of a quiet moan against his neck, and he knows the answer. He has the impulse to touch you, but he’s weak underneath your body and he goes limp as your tongue traces his jaw.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mumbles.

You giggle, the sound echoing in his ear before you kiss his cheek, “So dramatic.”

“I’ll do anything,” he begs, and his breath catches in his throat, your nose nuzzled against his.

“Mhm...”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Looking into his eyes, you slowly release your grip on his wrists and place your hands on his face, “Just kiss me,” you whisper. His arms wrap back around your waist and he does. He just kisses you.

By the end, when you’ve hopped off of his lap and begun applying your lipgloss, he’s watching you in a daze. His eyes scan over you from head to toe and it raises goosebumps on your skin.

“[y/n],” he calls.

“Mm-hmm?” you hum, checking your reflection.

“You know, I’m kinda in love with you, right?”

You burst into laughter and roll your eyes, “L. O. L.”

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m so dead serious. We-we could do stuff.”

“Stuff? What kinda stuff?”

“Like,” he shrugs. “Maybe a little dating, a little marriage, some kids…something like that, I don’t know.”

“Mmm, but how would that look?” you ask, tilting your head at him.

“What do you mean?”

“It would look like I submitted my cooch as an audition tape and I didn’t. I dont want people to think this was a hand out. I earned it, right?”

“Of course,” he rises to his feet and steps towards you, “Of course. I would never-never wanna take away from that, I just-“

“And it’s the whole thing of it all, you know that. You’re the director, I’m the lead actress, plus you’re like, a senior citizen.”

He cackles, “That’s never bothered you before.”

“And I’m focused on this movie.”

“Oh, me too. Definitely, me too. Of course, me too…..you just, um…make it a little bit…harder.”

“Hm, I see that,” you smirk, glancing down at his crotch.

He laughs, his arms reaching out for you, his face nearing yours, and you put your hand to his chest. Push him away, “Chill. I just reapplied my lipgloss.”

He rolls his eyes as you pick up the script from the floor and flash him a smile. “Okay,” you huff. “Back to work,” then you plant a kiss on your fingertips and mush your hand into Matthew’s cheek.

He tries to pull you in, but you slide your wrist out of his grasp and you’re gone.

Your costar - Sam - he’s cute. Okay, Sam is very cute. Sam is cute in a way that you thought they didn’t make men anymore. He’s pretty, but he doesn’t know it. He takes everyone else’s word for it. He’s kind, respectful, talks to you like a human being. There’s a spark between you two that is, truly, the core of creating a solid movie. It makes all the kissing and the touching much easier. Sam is a good guy. If your type were age appropriate, Sam would definitely be your type. You would totally fuck Sam.

But Matthew’s your type, if you’re being honest. You want to fuck Matthew. You want to fuck Matthew very, very much and that’s going to make this sex scene a lot harder. But for the sake of professionalism, you bite the inside of your cheek, ground yourself in the moment. Matthew makes eye contact with you from behind the camera and he gives you a quick wink. It gets your engine started, just enough so that when he calls “Action!” you close your eyes and think of him.

This is the longest three and a half minutes of Matthew’s life. It’s not suspicious that he’s watching you so closely, but the way he’s pinching the skin on his wrist is certainly not helping.

Fake sex with Sam is fun and you will certainly feel different about him afterwards. He moves against you in a certain way and you have to keep this euphoric look on your face for every camera angle and your brain is like well, alright then, maybe Sammy Boy is an option.

Then, Matthew yells. “Cut!”

And your body comes to a complete halt, your breathing returns to normal. You catch a glimpse of Matthew and your brain goes: Oh, yes. Him.

“You okay?” Sam asks you, keeping you at arms length.

“Yes,” you nod, giving him a genuine smile. “Yes. Are you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. He holds out his hand and you both laugh as he gives you a firm handshake.

Cast and crew agree it was perfect straight shot and Matthew just approves with a thumbs up. You wonder if he’ll comment more but when he doesn’t, you just shrug it off, put on a robe, put your arm around Sam and walk off set with him.

When everyone starts to leave for the day, you walk past Matthew’s trailer and he pokes his head out the door, “Nice performance today, [y/n],” he waves.

You turn to him and laugh, “Thanks? Perv.”

“Why do you hurt me this way?”

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow,” you wave.

And as you walk away, he says, “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” and you have to keep going like you didn’t hear it.

It’s another 2 months before the movie is finished filming and the wrap party is that Friday. Matthew has been trying his best to keep some distance from you, but he finds himself texting you to find out if he’ll see you tonight. He’s tired of looking at you through a lense. It’s done, it’s over, it’s in post production. You don’t have to let his tongue in your mouth, but he hopes maybe he can hold your hand. Give you a hug.

Matthew’s not sure when you’ll arrive at the party until you’re there. You already have a beer in your hand and you’re grinning as you walk up to him. He takes you in this real tight side hug and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You look nice,” he whispers in your ear.

“So do you,” you tell you. “I like this suit.”

He lets out a long sigh, “Thank you,” he chuckles. “Thank you, I thought you might.”

You hold his gaze for a moment and then seperate your bodies before you absolutely lose your mind.

You mix and mingle. You take pictures. A lot of pictures. You knock back a few drinks and by the time people have started clearing out, you’re cackling with Sam and other cast members out on the patio.

Matthew comes by to say goodnight to everyone and you all wave to him with a loud, collective “Bye!”

He goes around giving handshakes and hugs and when he gets to you, he leans down and wrap his arm around you. Your face nuzzles into his neck and he rubs your back softly. When he releases you, you can still smell him.

“Bye, [y/n],” he smiles and you can tell he wants to touch your face. But he doesn’t.

He leaves and you can still smell his minutes later. You take a deep breath, tell everyone you’re going to the bathroom, get up, and once you’re sure no one can see you, you run.

You catch Matthew as he’s hoping in his car and you call out his name. His heart stops and he turns to you, jaw dropped just slightly. “Hi, gorgeous.”

You chuckle under your breath, “Hi.”

Your face feels hot and tense, like you’re trying to keep yourself from grinning too much. “Can I have a ride?” you ask.

He not only drives you home, but he lets you control the music. He regrets the decision immediately.

“Don’t be such a grandpa!” you scold him.

“I’m-I’m not! I just don’t understand why it’s so…loud? And angry! Oh, my god…”

“Yeah.”

“I do sound like a grandpa.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “But I’m into it.”

He blushes, bites down on his lip, “What’d you think of Link’s speech? Too sappy, right?”

“It wasn’t until he cried.”

Matthew laughs, “Yeah, he’s a softie, but this movie is his baby.”

“Yours too, kinda.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t believe filming is already over.”

“Gonna miss me?”

“Fuck, [y/n]…come on, I miss you all the time. I’m kinda in love with you, remember?”

You roll your eyes, shake your head, “Over here. On the left.”

He turns into your parking deck and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You reach over his body, your knees tucked in the seat as you type in your passcode. Matthew’s eyes are wide and his hands are limp on the steering wheel. His eyes linger on your waist and your thighs. The gate opens and you plop back down in your seat and he drives off like nothing happened. He parks in a corner near the elevator and you look over at him, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anytime. Anything-Anything you need.”

You smile at him.

“Y’know,” he says. “You can call me. You can text me and we can see each other, outside of press stuff and stuff. If you ever just-just wanna talk. I’m here, I’m here for that, for anything.”

You nod your head at him, slowly, your eyes scanning him up and down, lingering on his shaky hands. You lean over and unbuckle his seat belt. Confused he lets it slide off of his body and he follows your lead as you grab his opposite wrist and pull it towards you. You lean back in your seat and pull your dress over your thighs. You pull back your lace underwear and stick Matthew’s hand in it.

“Oh.” he says.

You arch your back, just slightly, his fingertips grazing your clit.

“What-what do I do?” Matthew asks.

You shrug, look up at him with dreary eyes, “Whatever feels right, I guess.”

And he moves his body closer to you, lowers his hand in your panties and rubs your clit. Soft, slow circles that make your eyes flutter shut. You spread your legs as far as they’ll go and he dips a finger inside of you, swims around in the flood. You grip onto the edge of your seat and Matthew touches the tip of his nose to yours. As he catches you in a kiss, his fingers slide into you and you can feel every inch. They curl in towards your belly and you whine against his lips, grinding your hips against his palm.

Matthew’s thumb pops into your mouth, his forehead pressed against yours, his wrist moving to match the rhythm of your hips. Choking on your moans, you widen your mouth, letting him slide two fingers towards the back of your throat. You can feel him watching you, but with every movement of his fingers, you’re nearing the brink and you can barely function.

He pinches your face between his fingers, covering your cheeks in your own saliva. Your groans echo around the small space, breaking up into choppy cries as Matthew increases his force, pushing his fingers as deep as they’ll go. You grip onto both of his wrists and whimper through gritted teeth, your thighs tightening around his hand.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck!”

With his hand around your throat, Matthew makes you come so hard that you’re entire body spasms, your hips riding it out on his hand until you go completely weak.

“Oh, look at you,” he whispers, his voice soft and dreamy as he pushes your hair back, touches your face. He pulls his fingers out of you and sucks on them, moaning at the taste of you. You grab onto his arm and dazedly begin to nibble on his forearm. At certain points near his elbow, you sink your teeth in really deep, taking a moment to feel his skin in your mouth. The pain makes him gasp underneath his breath, but he doesn’t mind. He likes the view. You take three of his fingers in your mouth and moan as they hit the back of your throat.

Matthew hooks on by your bottom teeth, leans in and tells you, “If you want me, I’m right here…I’m right here…”

And you fix your panties, fix your dress, gives him one last kiss on the knuckles. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nods, “Anything for you. Anything.”

When the movie premiere, everyone is anxious. Everyone. No one is exempt. There are, however, those that handle it better than others. You, being those, and Matthew, being others. When he sees you, standing there in your pretty dress, looking like an angel, he rushes over to you and takes you into a hug.

“Oh,” you whisper, chuckling, “Oh, Matthew.”

“I’m about to piss myself.”

“Please don’t.”

“How are you not freaking out right now?” he asks, holding you under his arm as he looks at you.

“Someone’s gotta stay calm so you can freak out.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Oh don’t do this-“ you roll your eyes.

“When you fell from heaven?”

“I need to walk the carpet, you do, too. C’mon.” And you hold his hand.

He can’t believe it, you hold his hand!

There’s all sorts of mixing and matching that goes into the photos. You take a lot with Sam, a handful with the rest of the cast and only a few with Matthew and the rest of the crew. The energy is high and light. The interviews are positive and everyone is smiling.

You sit, you hope, you pray that this is the tone for the rest of the night.

And then the movie ends with a standing ovation.

And the energy gets even higher. You are a star. People clamor around you and Sam like royalty and you guys humbly accept it all. You ride back to the hotel with Sam and a few others, a bottle of champagne and music blasting through the speakers.

“[y/n]!” Sam calls as you part ways. “More drinks in the lobby?”

“For sure! I’m going to change into more celebrity casual, I’ll be right there!”

He laughs and waves as you head up the elevator.

You step into your hotel room and drop the key on the kitchenette counter. You stand in the center, just underneath the big, bright chandelier. And you dance. You jump. Your cheer. You nearly fall to yours knees and then there’s a knock on the door.

You skip over and open it to find Matthew, a big smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You don’t even think about it, you just jump into his arms and the two of your erupt into joyous laughter. He carries you into your room, lets the door shut behind you and places your flowers down.

“The times. The post!” he exclaims. “Everyone is talking about you.”

“Shut up,” you shake your head, your hands pressed to his chest.

“No, you shut up!” he embraces you, laughing as he says, “They like you! They really, really like you!” He looks down at you, your eyes laced with happy tears, and he pushes your hair back. “I…” he whispers. “Really, really like you.”

You smile at him, reach up and run your hands through his curls. You nuzzle your body into his and your eyelids get heavy as you breathe him in. You lift yourself up on the tip of your toes and give him a kiss. Then another kiss. Then another. And you drive yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pushing your tongue into his mouth. You back him up against a wall and he gasps, “[y/n]-mm…oh, god…” he hands wanders around your body, gripping onto your ass. “What are you doing?”

You moan, throw your head back, “Just-fuck-take this dress off of me,” you order, holding his face in your hands as you peck at his lips.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he whispers. “Slower…” he tells you. His fingers push the spaghetti straps off of your shoulders and he gives you a nice, long kiss, “Slower, slower…”

You let him steadily roll the straps down your arms, feel the curves of your body as he pushes the dress past your hips. Leaving you in just your bra and panties, he takes you in his arms and loses his breath between your mouths.

He sweeps you up in his arms and your legs wrap around his torso. He drops you onto the bed and you chuckle as you bounce in the air. He leans over and you help him take his jacket off, throw it onto the floor. As he gives you a sloppy kiss, you unbutton his shirt, feels around his chest. He unhooks your bra and pulls it off, his tongue wet all over your jaw and collar and chest.

Matthews lips wrap around your nipple and your head rolls back, your hands tangled in his hair. He leaves a slimy trail down your stomach and looks up at you as he slides your panties down your legs.

“Oh, my god…” he whispers. He looks down at you, touching you all over, flat, warm, open palms on your breasts and ribs. “You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful,” and he falls to his knees. He holds your legs open and starts to eat you off. Soft, slow, with a strong hold on your thighs. He buries his face between your legs and laps at you like he’s dehydrated.

You purr, pull at his hair, arch your back as you grind against his face. The noises you make come out jumbled and strained and Matthew can’t get enough. He hums against you, speeding up his tongue to bring you to the edge. You squeal and you squirm, but Matthew keeps you locked in place. You grip onto his arms, digging your nails into the flesh. You mutter soft, stuttering profanities, your throat raw from all the noise.

When you come, Matthew is moaning, loving the way your hold tightens around his face and your hands tug at his hair. As he returns to kiss you, you push his shirt off of his body and undo his pants. With his pants and boxers kicked off, he just falls straight into you and it’s like the whole earth shakes. You cry out, wrapping your arms around him. He breathes shakily into your ear, his hands getting under your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest.

The bed rocks back and forth as he pounds you, his eyes trained on you, your moans loud enough to shatter glass. You are absolutely everything he ever imagined you to be and more. So, so much more. You wrap around his dick in just the right way and his head falls back, his mouth falls open and his says your name on this broken, breathy loop. “[y/n], [y/n], oh, fuck, [y/n], baby.”

He watches you rub your clit in fast, hard circles, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He moves into you harder, faster, leaning in so he can hear your moans in his ear. You grip onto his shoulder and then his hair and then his throat and he peers into your eyes. He’s trying to hold on, to savor the moment, to keep you here. Just like this. But your thumb runs over his cheekbone and he breaks down and his face softens and he dissipates into these weak whimpers.

“Y-you going to come, baby?” he asks you, feeling your thighs twitch and tighten against his body.

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Fuck, yes.”

He kisses you, grunting against your lips as he uses his body to carve you out like marble, folding you in half, thrusting himself as deep as he can because he can tell how much you love it.

“C’mon, [y/n], come for me,” he groans in your ear. “Please, please, please, please.”

Your fingers work tirelessly on your clit and with one good move inside of you, you crumble. You pull Matthew close, spread your legs and let him fuck you through it. He’s talking to you, he’s telling you that you’re amazing, that you’re incredible, beautiful, sexy and you’re screaming too loud to hear any of it.

He had been waiting for you to let himself go and he stares at you the entire time he comes. You moan as you feel it splatter all over your stomach, your chest. You chuckle, wiping some off with your finger and popping the digit into your mouth, “Oh, fuck.”

Matthew laughs and crashes on top of you, holding your face as he kisses you. “Come on,” he orders, hopping up.

“Huh?”

“I’m taking you on a date.”

“Right now?” you prop yourself up. “You don’t think we’re going in the wrong order here?”

“Oh, duh, right,” he says and suddenly he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “We’ve gotta shower first.”

And as you laugh on the way to the bathroom, Matthew squeezes you real tight. Real, real tight, thinking:

Finally.

[maybaankk]

⠀ theatre cupid ⠀⠀﹒⠀　mgg x reader

this work includes / may include : mutual pining, mentions of breakups, mentions of unhappy marriages, mentions of unhappy home life, y/n used, f!reader with she / her prns, theatrical drama, timeskips, possible smut, toothrotting fluff, tear jerking angst, unrequited love in the first part, matthew is a dumbass and cant tell that reader likes him, reader smokes.

summary : y/n and matthew have known eachother since theatre school, when matthew had spikey blonde short hair, when they loose contact after graduation y/n sees matthew in the movie hot air and can’t keep down old feelings that she once had for her classmate.

Authors note : i did so much research about matthew and Tisch School of the Arts for this.. i wanted to be accurate.. and also there’s references to math rock songs

wc: 7.5k

Friday the 6th of October 2000

Y/N doesn’t know how to feel when her brain starts to process that she’s finally in her dream school, New york University’s Tisch School of the Arts, a school she had dreamed of since she first fell in love with theatre at the young age of 8.

She takes out the planner from her bag, flipping to the timetable for her day, running her finger down the page to find the room number, her first class; Introduction to Theatre Studies in THEA-UT 500.

And so she made her way toward the lecture hall, her satchel resting on her side comfortably; ahead of her she saw a boy with short mid length dirty blonde hair; his body was adorned in a tweed jacket and a flannel on his upper half, the lower in jeans and converse.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she recognised his hair somewhere, and then it clicked; her sister was absolutely obsessed with this model named Matthew Gray Gubler from those high fashion magazines.

Her fliphone was in her hand in a matter of seconds, frantically typing in a text message to her sister; who was on the other side of the country.

“that model guy, matthew? yh i think he goes 2 my school, WTF.” is all she typed to her sister before she made it to the lecture room, sending the text and flipping the phone closed under her chin.

Thursday the 12th of October 2000

Y/N layed comfortably in her sheets, staring up at the ceiling of her student apartment, gently twirling the locket around her neck in her fingers; she had exchanged a few sentences with Matthew that day they met; today was a Fall break.

He seemed sweet, and at some point she found herself finally understanding the once strange infatuation that her sister had with the boy.

They were close in age, only a few months apart, and both 80s babies; though Matthew had already gone to a university in california, he had moved to new york to pursue film while still modelling.

Atleast that’s what he told Y/N, they had walk to the cafeteria together before going their separate ways, only sharing glances in the hallways afterwards as Introduction to Theatre Studies was the only class they shared.

For one reason or another Y/N found herself missing the warmth Matthew’s voice and laugh gave her in the pit in her stomach, her sister was constantly tetxing, rooting for her and, albeit teasing her sister for now having the same crush she once called stupid.

Friday the 13th of October 2000

classes returned, and to Y/N’s delight, her first class was the one she shared with matthew; she did a small dance when she remembered this, twirling around her apartment as she pieced together an appropriate fall outfit.

However when she walked into the lecture room, her heart stopped; there was a girl sat on Matthew’s knee, touching up on him; and Matthew didn’t seem to mind at all, infact he had that same dopey smile he usually had when talking to Y/N.

So for the rest of the class, Y/N sat at the front, focusing on the lecture to cleanse her mind of the thoughts and sight of Matthew and the girl she had later learnt to be Marceline.

Tears pricked at her eyes occasionally as the image of the two flickered in her mind; but she had to remind herself that she had only knew Matthew for a few days and that she meant barely anything to him.

Monday the 23rd of October 2000

The song In Your House by The Cure played in Y/N’s tangled headphones as she stared at the paper infront of her, she and Matthew had exchanged a conversation a few days ago about an idea for a play premise they had to write about in their class, but other than that, it was always Matthew and Marceline.

She sighs to herself, standing up to walk over to the trashcan, pencil and pencil sharpener in hand; imserting the stationary into the sharpener as she turns it, groaning softly when the lead stains her hands a metallic gray.

When the bell rings she sighs in relief, she doesn’t have to hear the obnoxious giggles of Marceline when she talks to Matthew at the back of class for the next three days, that’s something atleast.

The satchle is slung over her shoulder as she holds onto the strap, she looks behind her and immediately regrets it, because there she sees Matthew and Marceline exchanging a kiss; and to that her brows furrow and she walks away quickly.

Tuesday the 31st of October 2000

Halloween, usually Y/N’s favourite time of year, because why wouldn’t it be? but this year it felt different, so very very different; because all she could see was Marceline in a latex nurse costume, and Matthew as a vampire letting her grind against him; with his big hands placed on her waist.

Y/N is there ofcourse, dressed as a cheetah. and she sat there, sipping on whatever was in that fucking punch bowl; before she got up and realised matthew had noticed her leaving, but he never moved; he justed stared.

The cigarette inbetween Y/N’s fingers crackled as she inhaled again, blowing out the smoke as she took off the cheetah ears atop her head; she sighs softly, thoughts spinning around her head.

“Maybe i could just move away, or go extinct like triceratops..” she frowns, standing up and sliding the packet of cigarettes into her satchel, walking the short journey back to her apartment.

She stands in the elevator, holding onto the bar as she sighs at the way it clunks, the door opening on her floor before she steps out, walking back to the small room she called home.

Tuesday 28th of November 2000

Y/N has absolutely no idea how she ended up atop a hill, sitting on the edge of a cliff as she smokes a cigarette, she thinks to herself that it’s because it’s Thanksgiving recess, but she knows deep in her heart it’s because she’s distracting herself from the fact that Matthew and Marceline and now an item.

“I can’t find help in a bottle, or a cut.. That’s no way out,” she mutters to herself, the sunset deepening in it’s colours, she lays back as she stubs out the now drooped cigarette, ash and embers exploding on her hand.

Wednesday The 15th of May 2002

(big time skip ik im sorry)

Yankee stadium is where she sits, staring at the gown that drapes over her knees, the cap on her head tilted to the side, she hears the Principal call out Matthew’s name, she looks up, tears brimming in her eyes; she can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness.

“Matthew Gray Gubler!” The words ring across the stadium speaker, she watched on the screen as he kisses marceline on her cheek, stepping up onto stage to take his diploma, locking eye contact with Y/N.

She looks down when matthew smiles at her, though she wants to smile back all she can feel is anger, and maybe thats because they got closer in the last year, but he ditches her for Marceline all of them time.

Ofcourse he has the right to, she’s his girlfriend. But it feels like she’s an empath and can tell when Matthew is with Y/N so her perfectly manicured hands can tear him away.

He exchanges a sorry glance everytime he leaves, and Y/N just nods, laying back on her bed again, and like so many times before she ends up staring at her ceiling and listening to the new york ambience until her eyes close.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N!” she stands up, stepping through the lines of students, realising that she zoned out until the principal called out her name, she walks to the stage, shaking the hand of the man who stood there.

She moved on down the line, taking her diploma from her favourite teacher, she hugs the woman before stepping off stage, her heels clicking as the stadium erupts in applause again.

Her eyes land on Matthew, he looks completely fine, like he couldn’t tell that she’s loved him for two years, two whole years and yet he still hasn’t understood.

Author Notes : i hope y’all like where this is heading.. i haven’t wrote angst in so long, this would be longer but i’m at the image limit for tumblr and the post is starting to lag.. i promise this will get less angsty in the coming parts!!

[zqmbiescorpse]

THE MORNING AFTER THE LAST

lottie matthews x female reader

a/n: i used the word 'homosexual' once and every time i see it i giggle a bit, so if it feels out of place for you it felt out of place for me too lmao

summary: you and lottie have always been suspiciously close for best friends. one night at a party, the feelings finally surface. the only thing left to complicate the situation is a plane crash and a possession.

warnings: alcohol, smoking, brief mentions of homophobia, kissing, sexual tension, suggestive themes, possession, minor depictions of violence (like once i think)

word count: 5.6k

(masterlist)

Your head pounded rhythmically, in time with the pulsating music blaring all around you; the consequence of partying in the middle of nowhere with an abundance of alcohol. By some miracle, you and your team had made it to nationals and were due to fly to Seattle the following morning, so naturally, every member of the Yellowjackets could be found here, either drunk or high - in hindsight, it was not the best idea, but you were teenagers, a lame excuse for the fact that you'd get up to some stupid shit. 

If you'd had a mind of your own and had refused to succumb to the pressures of high school, you would most likely be at home now, snuggled up in the warm comfort of your own bed, attempting to fall asleep since tomorrow was going to be very busy for you. Without a doubt, as much sleep as possible would have prepared you for the day, even if you were kept awake for a little while due to an overwhelming anxiety and excitement gathering in the pit of your stomach, like butterflies were congregating to flutter around down there. 

However, you were currently standing propped up against someone's car. You didn't know whose it was, just that it was oddly parked in the middle of the party, surrounded by towering trees and irresponsible youth. Either way, it provided you with something to lean on, eliminating the need to hold yourself up while you slumped against it - red plastic cup in hand, you occasionally sipped the cheap alcohol, the flavour reminiscent of metal, bitter and sour, burning the back of your throat as you slowly swallowed it until there was nothing left. 

Why were you here then? You'd find yourself pondering that question every other moment of the night, each time, your brain would trigger a similar answer and you'd suddenly be fine with the atmosphere again. The social gathering was merely a non-suspicious justification to spend time with Lottie, who was off scrounging for more beer to supply the both of you with. It hadn't been long, a few minutes max, though, you still wished she'd hurry up and come back. You weren't really invested in conversing with any other members of your team, or anyone else here that attended your school for that matter - leaving you awkwardly awaiting Lottie's return. 

This didn't automatically mean that you disliked the people you would play the sport with, you did like a large majority of them and they were your closest friends. You weren't a loner, despite your lack of socialising at that moment which suggested otherwise; everyone else seemed to be scattered about, maybe in pairs or threes, moseying around with their own designated companion. You'd even catch glimpses of some of the girls kissing random guys, undoubtedly sparking trouble and unwanted romantic drama. You didn't want to be part of it. Ultimately, you were quite content with reducing yourself to clinging to Lottie's side, as you typically did.

The girl was witty, and cleverly humorous despite the fact that she was more subtle than harsh, never getting in anyone’s face or poking unnecessary fun at an oblivious target. She wasn't mean, bearing no intent to harm or cause trouble. Aside from her stunning looks and adorably gorgeous face, her genuine friendliness, sarcastic nature, and intelligence only ever intensified your infatuation with her. In addition, Lottie was incredible at what she did, her footwork being the cleanest on the team - how could you not admire her? 

At times, it frustrated you to no end, considering the world you lived in, people would avoid homosexuals like the plague, meaning you had precisely zero people to talk to about your troubles. You'd attempted to dismiss such feelings for your best friend, however, each instance proved useless.

Creating distance between the pair of you failed miserablely, for starters, the image of you and Lottie Matthews being miles apart caused eyebrows to raise immediately - purposely avoiding her made you feel deflated while it drastically upset her. It was inhumane to do that to someone, especially someone so special to you, therefore, that plan was scrapped within minutes. Besides, you played soccer together for your school, it was only a matter of time before you'd be attached at the hip again. 

'Newbie' was not the correct term for you, regarding your experiences with the team, nevertheless, you couldn't help but question your own utility. Although you could never exactly pinpoint why you were valued so much, apparently everyone else thought you were a spectacular asset and essential if they had any hope of winning Nationals. You disagreed. 

On the other hand, Lottie acted like she was your personal hype woman, constantly drowning you in praises throughout every second of every game. Those things got under your skin, in the best way possible. It was a miracle that your performance didn't waver when she'd encourage you with such charming words, blushing and fumbling after every compliment. 

You watched the brunette make her way toward you, a new batch of murky liquid in her hands, your heart a flutter at the mere sight of her. Lottie stumbled across the bumpy terrain, careful of the mud to prevent a fall, yet, she didn't hesitate to raise an arm excitedly to greet you. You smiled, shyly returning the wave. 

"Jesus Christ, what idiot chose here of all places to have a party!" Lottie giggled, slipping the new cup of alcohol into your old, empty one. 

"I have no idea, we kinda just show up, no questions asked," Your response was nonchalant, "Oh, thank you, by the way, for the drink," You quickly added on, eager to show your gratitude, even if it was over something minor. 

"What?" She stared, wide-eyed, struggling to hear you over the booming beats of whatever shitty song was playing. 

"I was just saying thank you for the beer!" Somewhat slurring your words, you began to shout, ensuring that you wouldn't need to repeat yourself again. 

"Yeah, of course! It's no problem!" 

Neither of you was severely intoxicated, at best it was more of a faint buzz guiding your bodies closer. The proximity gradually narrowed - there was not much hesitation as you were too busy caught up in the pointless, drunken conversation flowing between you and her. 

Equally giddy, you became progressively needy, hanging onto every word she spoke, whereas Lottie continuously rambled on about everything and nothing, informing you about insignificant details; a vast grin plastered to her face. Out of all the Yellowjackets, it was obvious that you and Lottie had consumed the most alcohol, the image of you together - fairly isolated from everyone else though still in view of anyone sober enough to care - her free hand lazily played with the ends of your hair and you gazed up at her wearing a toothy grin. 

Although it was strange for her to publicly display physical affection for you, the action didn't linger on your mind due to the woozy atmosphere. The man-made peace surrounding you, created by the beer, was soon broken by a few incoherent voices quarrelling suddenly. 

"You're a fucking sociopath!" 

Lottie, instantly detecting where the commotion was coming from, followed the sound of arguing. You trailed behind her, also eager to see some excitement.

"That was Shauna, right?" You inquired, cracking up at the idea of Shauna of all people getting into it with someone else, she was definitely not the type to start trouble.

"Sounds like her," The taller girl delighted, "Look! There, with Taissa."

You and Lottie merged with the congregation of people intensely monitoring Shauna and Taissa as they bickered back and forth about an incident that had occurred prematurely. Van had evidently been tangled up in the crossfire, the poor girl trying her hardest to separate her agitated teammates. You momentarily realised the situation was because of the gruesome injury inflicted on Allie, having been present when her flesh was ripped off her leg and her kneecap smashed. 

"I don't need you to defend me? Last time I checked you were totally fine with the whole 'freeze her out' strategy," Nat, feeling targeted, counted herself into the dispute, "I don't know why you two decided to come over here and just laugh when you were very much involved too?"

Her attention focused on you and Lottie, pointing fingers, exaggerating your amusement that had washed over with concern long before it had been mentioned, and hearing everyone shout at each other conveyed the seriousness of the situation plenty.

"Hey, what? We're not laughing?" Lottie defensively piped up, "I even said that I was unsure about it! How was I supposed to know that Tai would take it that far!"

Natalie shook her head, unimpressed with Lottie, instead, aggressively addressing you now. You hadn't spoken a single word, yet, the terror that shot through your veins was indescribable.

"What's your excuse? Apart from the fact that you go along with anything Lottie does," The blonde condescended.

"Fuck off Natalie, I didn't do anything. I didn't bust her leg and ruin her chances at playing sport," You quipped back at the unwanted blame, humiliated at whatever she was trying to hint at concerning Lottie.

"Bull. Shit."

Many negligible disagreements erupted violently inside the once collective dispute, drawing attention to you and your group. The volume was out of control, girls verbally attacking one another over nothing, arguing for argument's sake.

Due to the commotion, you started to attract bystanders, which in turn, alerted a very annoyed Jackie. She stopped what she was doing and promptly stomped over, disappointed and desperate to defuse the situation. Stern words from the girl with honey-coloured hair swiftly lead the fighting members of the Yellowjackets into a clearing, isolated from the party's intense atmosphere. 

You suppressed a groan at the suggested team-bonding activity, not particularly thrilled to forcibly compliment them at Jackie's request. Originally mimicking a military lineup, everyone disassembled from the formation and awkwardly approached each other, mumbling positive affirmations.

You were fortunate enough to be right next to Lottie, the taller girl swivelling around to meet your smaller self. She was without a drink, likely thrown it away before arriving at the new destination - in its place was a freshly lit cigarette. The crisp air dancing across your bodies sobered you up a bit, although not completely, you still felt more capable of thinking straight. 

There were millions of compliments you could've shower the beautiful brunette with, deciding what to actually say was a challenge. Taking drags of the cigarette and blowing the smoke in your general direction, because Lottie knew how it would make you blush, she peered down at you expectedly, awaiting an answer. Alternatively, she could've just taken the lead but didn't, for reasons you couldn't figure out.

"Jackie seriously couldn't think of anything better to fix our problems," You offered, seriously unsure about what to say to her. Lottie certainly wasn't going to let it go, yet the issue of accidentally being too forward and implying your romantic feelings for her was a looming threat that held you back. 

"What is it, not got anything nice to say to me?" She mused, smirking. 

"I admire your commitment to sport and…" You cut yourself off. 

"And what?" 

A strangled chuckle left your tightening throat, leaving Lottie amused. 

"I don't know, well, I was gonna say something like…you're a really great friend to me."

For a millisecond, you considered coming out with the truth and telling her how pretty she was. Ultimately, you fumbled and quickly covered it up, though you couldn't shake the feeling that Lottie knew how awfully you were lying. 

"Sure, you're a good friend to me too," she mocked, playfully jabbing her finger into your shoulder before returning the cigarette to her lips. 

This your eyes followed, trailing up until you inevitably met hers. You didn't know if it was because you'd gained confidence after the alcohol you'd had throughout the evening, or if you had internally decided to be more bold - forward with her - but you didn't want to look away. You couldn't look away. 

You noticed as Lottie's face changed from playful, to something more gentle, yet serious, like she had been suddenly whisked away in the same trance that had lured you into a daze. The ever-present background noise of the girls laughing and joking with each other danced happily around your ears, your subconscious pleased to hear your teammates having fun again. Though, you felt isolated from them, too focused on Lottie's plump lips and how they would part slightly, ready to say something, but freighted to do it. 

Her tanned skin glistened under the shine of the moon, creating something other-worldly out of someone who was already beyond ravishing. The distance between you shortened with each second, Lottie's hands were itching to reach out and pull you closer - you craved it. 

"Me and Shauna are gonna start heading back, get home safe!" 

The lust-filled atmosphere concealing you and her from the rest of the world crumbled, the interruption from Jackie announcing her and Shauna's exit brutally snapped the pair of you back into reality. There were a few awkward glances shared while you casually backed off from her. Nothing really happened; the fear of rejection crept in nonetheless, wondering if you'd overstepped her boundaries. 

Jackie and Shauana disappeared into a clearing, prompting many of the other girls to disperse and start to make their own way home.

"Are we leaving too?" You shyly asked, the tension from moments ago playing on your mind.

Lottie paused, considering her options thoroughly. She scanned the surrounding area, her face radiating an internal conflict so severe she couldn't have just been deciding whether she wanted to return home or stick around for a little longer.

“No. We’re staying.”

Her voice was fierce, a dangerous fire blazing in her eyes as she snatched your wrist and dragged you further within the trees, the taller girl guiding you to an unknown destination. You didn't complain nor protest. It was completely in the norm for her to do whatever she pleased with you trailing not too far behind. One could even say, you were totally whipped. She had your entire trust.

"Where are we going, Lottie?" You laughed nervously - that curious, giddy feeling back again.

"Away from everyone…just the two of us."

You couldn't determine her tone and you couldn't see her face. A silent blush tinted your cheeks. Was she messing with you? Was she purposely sounding so seductive? Did she know how hard your aching heart was pounding frantically against your chest?

The brunette came to a halt and you followed suit. Lottie finally spun around, meeting you face-to-face, her eyebrows were furrowed and her breath against your skin was unsteady, but it didn't stop her from grabbing your jaw and sloppily locking her lips with yours.

Tingles and hot flushes spread across your body due to the very sensation that was her mouth pressing bruisingly into your own. Any whimpers or whines you let slip as you reciprocated the passion she was gifting you, were shushed, Lottie taking the quickest of breaks from being attached to your lips to remind you to keep quiet made your insides melt - having the opposite effect, instead encouraging you to get more impatient.

She forcefully guided you backward until the rough bark of a tree was up against you, your hands clutched to her waist and your nails dug deeper because of this, earning a pleasured groan from the one who was basically on top of you. You could taste the liquor from earlier on her, she could taste it on you too. It didn't stop either of you from wildly exploring each other's mouths. 

Desperate to somehow be even closer to you, Lottie's weight smothered you, her height compared to yours left you with no chance of gaining control, but that wasn't an issue at all. Unintentionally, she lifted a leg for reasons only justifiable because of the positions you were in and the circumstances of a limited area, causing her knee to press into a certain spot between your shaking thighs. A moan slipped from your throat, louder than expected.

"Oh, my," Lottie chortled, taking a step back, "Did you like that?"

"Shut up and keep kissing me…please."

She obliged, buzzing with delight, the kisses slower at first, filled with love, the pace gradually picking up until you found yourselves similarly to where you were before: heated, messy, and running out of air.

-

The weight from your foot cautiously stepping up the rickety rungs of the old ladder made quite a racket, the wood rotting, similarly to the entire foundation of the cabin. It was a surprise that the structure was even suitable to live inside. Your designated pillow and blanket were slung over your arm, consequently, you struggled to make it to the top - climbing a ladder one-handed was not on your bingo card for this summer. Then again, neither was surviving a plane crash and having to live in Canada's brutal wilderness for an insufferable amount of time.

"What are you doing?" Taissa, who must have heard your endeavour, leaned over the entrance of the attic, "Here, I've got you."

The athlete assisted you with ease, collecting your belongings for you and placing them to the side so they would no longer be an inconvenience.

"Thank you, Tai," You nodded, briskly moving to set out a place to sleep, busying yourself in an attempt to avoid any questions you knew were about to come your way.

"Why are you up here?" 

"I just thought I'd support my friend, prove to everyone that there's nothing to be scared of and that the cabin isn't haunted…" You lied confidently.

"Right…If you were so sure, why did it take you this long to join me up here? I mean, I would appreciate it more if you displayed your so-called unity ten minutes ago? When I proposed the idea and got no response? You tryna make me look stupid?" Taissa quipped, mostly light-hearted, but you knew that she wasn't buying it - she was more bothered about getting the truth out of you than wasting time being annoyed.

You brushed it off with a laugh, kneeling down to fluff up your pillow and adjust the extremely thin blanket-crafted mattress. You relaxed yourself against it, now snuggled up on the floor. Taissa copied this, bringing herself to get comfortable next to you. 

"So are you going to tell me the actual reason why you chose to come sleep in this creepy attic?" She was relentless, never shutting up unless your response was satisfactory. "Shouldn't you be down there, with Lottie?" 

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" You choked, disappointed that she'd guessed part of your problem this early on.

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that, I'm only pointing out that it's unusual for you to be this far away from her. You and Lottie, not up each other's asses? That's unheard of," She smirked. 

"Okay, shouldn't you be down there with Van, then?" You mimicked the suggestive question, turning the suspicious homoerotic friendship allegations onto her this time. 

Taissa let out a sigh. Not because of you or anything that you'd said, rather, she missed her secret lover after mere minutes of separation.

"Van's too freaked out, she wanted to stay with the others," She spoke, deflated, the cheeky way of her words had disappeared, the reality of what you'd seen at the seance front and centre in her mind. 

"I'm terrified," You bluntly admitted, "I'm way too scared to be near her and I know how selfish it sounds but I can't do it. Lottie…she, well, she was fucking possessed!" 

After the party, you and her never spoke about the kiss. Things carried on between you as they normally would, thankfully, yet the memories of that night corrupted your every thought. You assumed that the plethora of alcohol you shared caused her to forget, which was still strange since you remembered it perfectly, but ignored it anyway. If she genuinely had no memory of it, that would probably be for the best; you'd hate to ruin your already-established friendship. 

However, over the past week subsequent to the crash, there was a minor difference in her that made it so the pair of you were somehow closer than before, this including physical closeness to one another. Hence, you were under the impression that she simply refused to mention the kiss due to reasons unknown. Possibly some variation of fear. 

Then, as her way of 'pulling her weight' to help the group adapt to their new life, Jackie cooks up an amazing idea to host a seance that, in turn, offers Lottie up to any available demons, her body becoming a vessel for the supernatural. 

It was horrifying. The delicate flicker of the candles had blown themselves out, ripping away any source of light; the room was filled with disorientated screams and panicked suggestions to make Lottie stop chanting - your 'sort-of girlfriend' had been repeating something demonic in French, successfully freaking everyone the fuck out. Vague translations had left the group mostly in the dark about what was happening, the only parts that were figured out included the spillage of blood and the demands of an unnatural being. 

The shock that struck you then stayed with you now, the thought of sleeping next to her was unbearable, thus explaining why you relocated to the attic to be with Taissa.

"It's okay to be scared, you know that, right?" She offered, trying to smile.

"I feel horrible though. I can't believe I just left her because I'm too much of a coward to face an issue that wasn't even her fault!" You fussed, grumbling into your hands to hide your face and the tears that were forming in your eyes. 

"Hey, it's not your fault either. I'm sure Lottie will understand if you spend one night away from her, with good reason might I add," A friendly chuckle strived to cheer you up, Tai shuffled up to you in case you needed to borrow her shoulder. 

"We kissed."

You don't know why you told her, you were planning on keeping it a secret, locking it away forever like the situation never even existed in the first place and was just another daydream, about your best friend, that nobody would ever know about. 

The girl beside you took in a shocked breath, "Shit…I kinda guessed that you weirdos liked each other a bit too much but oh my god I wasn't expecting that." 

"We've both been acting like nothing happened that night. Then this had to happen and make everything more complicated." You explained, slightly calmer than you had been a few moments ago. 

"Try not to worry about it. Get some rest, clear your mind, and talk to her about it tomorrow, okay? 

The suggestion had you nodding in agreement, what else could you really do at that point in time? You were in great need of an undisturbed rest and if you had to move away from the possessed culprit to do that then it was in your right to do so. You concluded that at the first chance you got throughout the busy, chore-filled day, you would go off and find Lottie. The idea made you anxious, nauseous even, but you couldn't avoid her and 'it' forever. 

When you finally awoke the next morning, the sun was beaming through the window, golden rays shining down on your face and painfully in your eyes - you rolled over to avoid it, only to discover that Taissa was already gone. 

It must've been later than usual since nobody besides Coach Scott could be found inside the cabin, everyone else had vacated it to carry out tasks, individually pitching in, which you were falling behind on due to the late start.

You recalled Shauna asking you to assist her with something, probably revolving meat rations. You weren't sure why she chose you of all people to help her with that stuff, but you supposed it was because you originally showed some willingness and then suddenly, you're dragged into it every time. 

Luckily, you spotted her immediately, stood around with Jackie, seemingly waiting for you. 

Apologies for unintentionally lying in came tumbling out of you, explaining how Taissa kindly forgot to wake you up. This earned you a hearty chuckle from Shauna who reassured you that it was okay, and that she knew you'd take a little longer as Tai had taken it upon herself to inform the group that you needed the extra rest. Feeling partially relieved, you followed Shauna into the forestry areas to the shed where the dead animals were kept - you didn't fail to notice Lottie's absence. 

As instructed, you thinly sliced the portions of raw meat for rationing; the blade smoothly cut through. It wouldn't be long until you'd run out of food again, the one deer unfortunately wasn't enough to sustain the group forever, hence, you'd rather not worry about it, the hunters were out doing all they could and you had to put some faith in them. 

Your mind drifted to Lottie, not a great decision since thinking about her was very distracting and you were wielding an extremely sharp knife - to accidentally slash your fingers while concentrating on her would be an amusing story for everyone else, not so funny for you however.

"Are you nearly finished?" Shauna checked up on your progress, peeking over your shoulder. 

"Pretty much, yeah," You murmured, preoccupied, "Hey, have you seen Lottie this morning? I'm just curious since she wasn't around the cabin."

"Yeah I saw her, it wasn't for long," She recalled, "Laura Lee took her to the lake. You know, after the seance and everything…she's been acting really weird."

Having finished your task, you placed the knife down and rested your palms against the rigid table, then said, "I don't know how I'm realising it now but, something has been wrong with her for a fair few days. We haven't brought any attention to it, is all. 

With a dirtied rag, Shauna wiped the blood off her hands and urged you to do the same. 

"Maybe keep an eye on her if it makes you feel better. I think we've all been acting reasonably different." She replied, wanting to keep the hopes high, this you appreciated, giving her a small nod as she gathered up the meat and took it away to be stored. 

You sighed deeply and shut your eyes tight, focusing on nothing, ensuring that your head was clear. The heat alone, out there in the wild, made you feel exhausted.

Stretching your back, you heard a faint rustle from no more than a metre or two away. Expertly scanning the surrounding area, you were ready to snatch the weapon up from the table and call for backup. If you were lucky, this could've been your next meal. Your mouth almost watered at the many possibilities of which animal would come into your vicinity without a single clue in the world of what their fate would be. The low grumble in your stomach grew. 

Emerging from the trees, you quickly learnt that it wasn't an animal at all, it was Lottie; her hair had been wet but was gradually drying, some of the strands still clinging to her face, and the t-shirt she was wearing had a few damp patches splattered about. 

Abruptly feeling awkward, you met her eyes sheepishly, waiting patiently for her to break the silence. 

"Is now a bad time?" She carefully questioned you, her hands joined together in a  nervous clump. 

"Not at all," You uttered, feigning confidence when you were actually as equally anxious as she was. 

"Can we talk?" 

You had no objections, having been patient all day, awaiting an opportunity to set things straight with Lottie. Trailing behind her into the woods, you thought back to the party, the way she was leading you to a secluded area so the pair of you could be isolated, it was a direct parallel to that night that seemed a lifetime ago, the night where you had hopes that your relationship might have progressed. 

"Is everything okay, Lot?" You gently asked.

"Where were you last night?" The taller girl decided you'd walked far enough and that this spot behind the cabin was suitable to converse, thus she stopped, "I woke up and you weren't there." 

"I went to the attic."

"Why?"

There was no use in lying, it wouldn't benefit neither you nor Lottie, the excuse that you went up there for Tai, that you failed in convincing her, wouldn't make much sense anyway because the brunette had slept through the proposal. Plus, you just wanted to be honest. That's why you agreed to this in the first place. 

"I was scared of what happened to you," You admitted, the anxiety you felt after seeing her possessed came flooding back, distressing you all over again. 

Lottie paused, conjuring the perfect response. She didn't say anything - a small, understanding, but sad, nod was the best she could do. A harsh pang of guilt struck your lower body. 

"I'm sorry, leaving you like that was probably wrong and I shouldn't have done it, I didn't mean to upset you, Lot. I'm really sorry," You apologised sincerely, "I'm not freaked out anymore, maybe a bit on edge still but, you're better now, right?" 

You wondered if you sounded too whiny, your intention was to ensure that your best friend was okay, nothing else. 

Her big brown eyes swirled with confusion, she couldn't even tell herself if she had returned back to normal, her voice brimming with anxiety, she whispered, "Do you hate me for what happened?" 

"What, no! Of course not, I promise I don't hate you," You explained in a panic, absolutely heartbroken that you'd caused her to say such ridiculous things. 

"I don't just mean that," Lottie slowly spoke, testing the waters as she was concerned about approaching the upcoming admission, "The party too, we never talked about it."

To say you were astonished was an understatement. Lottie, someone who you thought had completely forgotten about the kiss, openly acknowledged the fact that it definitely happened.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't think that you remembered, or that you chose to ignore it. I could never hate you, especially because of something like that. It was amazing!" You exclaimed, red tinting your cheeks, joy spreading across your face. 

This same cheer infected Lottie, her frown lifting into a beautiful, more confident grin. 

"Yeah, it was good," She agreed, blushing furiously. 

Although she appeared happier, the furrow of her brow indicated that she remained slightly apprehensive, prompting you to inquire, "What is it, Lot?" 

"There's another problem, I think I've been seeing stuff and I don't know if it's real or not." The brunette troubled, shuffling around. 

"Like hallucinations? Visions?" 

"Visions. I went to the lake earlier, with Laura Lee, and she dunked me under the water - and I ended up in a candle-lit room and then I saw an explosion and… I don't know what's happening to me," She rambled on, her eyes pricking with tears. 

You reached out to her, firmly rubbing her shoulder for comfort, "You can talk to me about anything, I'm here for you."

"So, you'll believe me? Laura Lee does, but the others are cautious. You're the one that I need." Lottie's expression was solemn, entirely serious about the discussion you were having; her vulnerable side shining through. 

"I believe you and I trust you. I care about you so much, you know?" 

 Your attention was brought to the blossoming pink patches covering her face due to your honesty, the taller girl experiencing an overwhelming mixture of emotions, she launched herself into your open arms. You hugged her back, tightly, letting go wasn't something that you'd be doing anytime soon, the height difference when you'd have such drawn-out, warm embraces always succeeded in making you laugh. 

After an undetermined amount of time, you both instinctively pulled away simultaneously. You gazed up at her, body language oozing with love while you brushed her dark strands of hair out of her face. Lottie's tanned hand cupped your cheek, you could see that she was feeling the warmth radiating off of it, yet, it didn't humiliate you, it felt freeing. 

You leaned in close, pecking her soft lips once, then going back in for a second short, though, sickly sweet kiss. Lottie began to giggle - the melodic noise identical to the one you would hear in the Yellowjackets locker room after a long, tiring game, or when you and her exclusivity went around invested in your own dumb shenanigans. It had been a while since you'd heard it, your heart beating faster as a result. 

Her palm traced your skin until she arrived at your chin, tilting it upwards, accessing your mouth easier as she towered over you - this kiss was not a short peck. It wasn't a sloppy, heated mess either, rather, it was slow and filled to the brim with affection. 

"So are we like a thing then?" Lottie beamed, remaining incredibly close to you with an indescribable bliss. 

"If you want things to be official, then I do too," You marvelled, mirroring her wide, toothy grin. 

You continued to pepper kissing all over each other's faces, showering your counterparts in affection. From there, things were appearing more positive; your hopes were high for the future.