#maybe getting out of the public school system helped

[ssa-dado]

Hi! So following up from your (incredible) breakdown of Hotch's apartment, I've always wondered why stayed in the apartment to raise Jack after Foyet/100 and I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

Obviously, his and Haley's marital house was out after everything but the same apartment he got stabbed in is wild to me and to then to Jack who was held hostage by the guy who stabbed Hotch by the dining table? I get if it was for security with less points of direct entry but Foyet got in??? Is there a garden or green space for Jack to play in? Does Hotch do a background check on all new tenants?

Anyway, this is not anti-apartment slander because I happily live in one myself but I'm so interested in why Hotch would since he clearly has the means (Rolex watches are not cheap lmao) and this feels like the right platform to discuss it haha what do you think?

Breaking down Hotch's apartment layout until someone from Criminal Minds slides into my DMs with the damn floorplans: (The Empire Strikes Back)

I’ve thought about this a lot (maybe too much) and I honestly believe Hotch stayed in that apartment building for a mix of reasons. It’s not just one thing. Maybe one factor weighed heavier than the others, but ultimately, I picture him doing one of those classic pros and cons lists, like the fussy man he is, and letting the whole picture guide the decision... does it make sense??

Now, if we look at the architectural typology of his building, we know it follows a comb-plan layout - meaning it features two semi-enclosed, semi-public green spaces that are open toward the street. (I even made a little sketch to visualize it because I’m a visual learner... Like, I don’t know what “Hotch’s hands” means until I see them. Someone please send references...pls???)

That said, the green spaces aren’t the reason he stayed. Sure, the building has them, but they’re likely shared among all tenants, mostly decorative, and maybe even off-limits in terms of actual use (some buildings do that.. yikes). Plus, they’re super open to the street, which means they’re not really safe or private enough for Jack to play in.

So I don’t think the green spaces themselves were the selling point.

I think he stayed because of the overall architectural quality of the building. It's a historic structure (from mid 1920s-1930s??) that’s been carefully restored, updated with 21st-century systems and amenities, and built with high-quality materials and finishes. Maybe there’s a park nearby where Jack can actually play safely. Maybe it’s closer to his school. It also doesn’t strike me as a suburban area, which could be another plus - city life offers access to public transportation, shops, cultural spaces, sports activities… all of which might've played into the decision.

I am so so so so here for this headcanon and I fuck so much with the background check idea because yes, he absolutely asked Garcia for help and no, he doesn’t think that was an overstep. It was a precaution. For Jack.

Also, I’m convinced he’s very active in the tenant community.

He’s the one who created the condo group chat - no one asked him to, but it’s impeccably organized, with pinned messages and!!! a color-coded spreadsheet of recycling days (I'm European, this is wired into my DNA, sorry) he made himself at 3 a.m. on Excel. He barely answers texts from his team, but the second someone reports “unusual noises near the trash chute,” he’s replying in 0.3 seconds with “What time? Which floor?”

Sure, he’s fussy about noise (especially when he’s actually home) but he’s also the one everyone turns to when the building manager starts power-tripping or the garbage hasn't been collected. You’ve got a broken washing machine? Hotch already emailed the landlord and the building’s legal obligation clause. Trash not yeeted? He’ll yeet it himself. The man has a complex Google Drive dedicated to tenant rights #prosecutor!Hotch

I will die on the hill he is a chatty grandma. Sure, he’s serious, but he knows everyone’s business, and somehow people trust him with their extra keys and gossip. He's fbi, he's cunty, he has great hair... hello???

(Like, you knock on his door and say, “Sorry to bother-” and he’s already saying, “Your cat escaped again? He's in apartment 127, do you need anything else?”)

Another reason I think he stayed in that apartment is because, most likely between s3 and 4, he started spending some time there with Jack. I’m not sure how the co-parenting with Haley worked logistically, but I can easily imagine him having Jack over on weekends when he wasn’t working, or at least trying to carve out that time. And that apartment became part of Jack’s routine, part of what "home" felt like to him, Hotch probably couldn’t bring himself to move.

I don’t think Hotch stayed there for himself. Psychologically of course, it’s not the healthiest choice (he was literally stabbed there by Foyet) but it is the best choice for his son. And unless you’re talking about his job, Jack always comes first.

And Hotch… Hotch always comes last.

I think he bottled everything up. I don’t even think he fully let himself consider that the apartment might be an unhealthy place to stay in. If the thought of moving did ever cross his mind, I’m almost certain it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t “I don’t feel safe here,” it was: What if someone breaks in again? What if Jack’s here? What if it happens when I’m not home?

He stayed because Jack knew that place. Because changing homes again would be another loss. Another shift. Another instability. And Hotch would rather carry the weight of that trauma alone than risk making his son feel displaced.

Sooooo... yep. That's it. I guess.

Thank you so so so so much for the ask!!! I'm so so so curious to know what are YOUR! thoughts!!

[hillbroski]

High school so far:

got adopted by an extrovert.

People have complimented my hair and jacket.

Auditioned for a musical and feeling okay ish?

People haven’t interrupted the teachers at all, and are generally quiet.

Math teacher is cool.

So pretty good 👍🏼

[reasonsforhope]

"In Sacramento, California, an estimated 6,615 people are experiencing homelessness, a number that — while still heartbreakingly high — has declined 29% since 2023, according to the latest Point In Time counts. 

But a new project, which has been in the works since 2022, might bring that number down even lower.

A new 13-acre property purchased by Sacramento County will soon be home to the Watt Service Center and Safe Stay. 

The county broke ground on the mixed-use service center this week, which will provide shelter, emergency respite, safe parking, health services, and more to community members who are unsheltered — meaning they don’t have a place to safely sleep at night.

“We wanted to do something that is not only larger, but a large-scale campus to provide more than just the shelter,” Janna Haynes, of the county’s Department of Homeless Services and Housing, told KCRA3 News.

The Watt Service Center will have amenities to help meet the needs of anyone staying there, including bathrooms, showers, laundry, and food, as well as mental health, treatment, and employment services.

“You can also meet with your case manager, get behavior health services, look for a job, get rehousing services, a place for your dog,” Jaynes added. “It’s really everything you need, not only for your day-to-day life, but to hopefully end your homelessness.”

While the center is a costly offering, the city explained that it is ultimately less expensive than allowing the homelessness crisis to go unmitigated.

The land was purchased for $22 million and will cost an estimated $42 million to construct the center. According to ABC10 News it will be mostly funded by the American Rescue Plan Act.

While the center will have the capacity to host 225 beds in Safe Stay cabins, 50-person capacity in Safe Parking, and 75-person capacity for emergency/weather respite beds, it will serve countless others outside of the 350 total people it can house at any given time.

According to a press release from the county, “conservative estimates” have found that over the course of 15 years, the center will serve 18,000 people.

In 2017, the city found that the average cost for an “unsheltered individual” was about $45,000 a year, considering public systems like county jail, shelters, behavioral health, and more.

With the projected impact of the shelter, that cost lowers to less than $3,600 per person.

“If you break down the funding, it’s actually not that expensive,” Rich Desmond, county supervisor for District 3, told ABC10.

“It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than letting someone stay out in the community, unsheltered where they are extremely expensive in terms of the emergency response from fire, our emergency rooms, our law enforcement response.”

Providing what the county calls “wraparound services” not only brings down costs but truly helps people meet their basic needs.

“The really great thing about this site in particular, that we don't have at any other shelters, is the sheer size and the ability to really wrap everything people need,” Emily Halcon, director of the Department of Homeless Services and Housing with Sacramento County, told ABC10. 

One notable feature is the center’s Safe Parking spaces, which are the first of their kind in the city. People living in their cars will now have a safe place to park, monitored by security.

“We know a lot of people who are unsheltered actually are living out of their cars,” Desmond said, “maybe a family that’s barely hanging on but they still need that vital transportation to get their kids to school or get to work.”

This support is especially helpful for those who are newly homeless, Halcon added, building on the amenities provided in the county’s two other “safe stay” facilities. 

While Sacramento County just broke ground on the Watt Service Center, officials say they hope to begin moving people into the facility in January 2026.

“Our staff is putting in extra time and attention to this campus, ensuring that it houses everything we need to end homelessness for people,” Desmond said in a statement.

Once it’s up and running, Jaynes told KCRA3, they plan to onboard formerly unhoused community members as part of the staff at the facility.

“When you have a conversation with someone who understands where you’ve been, and you see the success they’re having now,” Jaynes said, “it really does give you hope something could be different.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 24, 2025

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

     the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

     now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

     when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom. 

     “shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him. 

     “no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

     “oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

     “mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

     “we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

     “oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

     “a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

     “i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch. 

     “god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

     “so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way). 

     you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips. 

     he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

     “how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

     he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them. 

     so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion). 

     “hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

     you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

     “fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

     he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

     “shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants. 

     biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

     “no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

     “yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

      “hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck! 

     your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more. 

     with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

     knockknockknock!

     “hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

     shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

     “all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

     “ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

     “it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

     you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

     “we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

     “that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit. 

     “yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

     your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some. 

     slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

     “shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh. 

     “mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

     “my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

     “oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[captain-huggy-bear]

Quinn Hughes

Thoughts

Quinn and Anxiety

Stomach Squisher

Quinn the giver

Quinn and an Alternative partner

When you're on your period

Quinn and Period sex 18+ MDNI - {Jack mentioned} + [1]

When you're in hospital

Flowers

After a long day

Reassuring

Drabbles/Prompts

Valentine's Day

How he reacts to some guy being a creep towards you

Breaking point

Marking you up - 18+ MDNI NSFW

Forgotten Goodbye Kiss

Casual dominance

He cuts his hair

Body hair

“This is the end of your all-nighters, you hear me, baby?”

"What I'm trying to say is... I like you."

“Hey… hey… why are you crying?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me”

One-shots

Late Bloomer - Quinn x Fem!Reader - Quinn finds out he's your first boyfriend in your mid-20s, you're expecting him to freak out.

The Sleeves - Quinn x Short Fem!Reader - Jersey sleeves are just a little too long for you.

Fishbowl Blues - Quinn x Fem!Reader - You're more stressed and worried over Quinn's busted lip than he is.

Practically Ancient - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You end up down a rabbit hole of instagram comments and profiles and can't help but compare yourself to all the women who would gladly date your boyfriend. You can't help but wonder why he's even with you.

'You're Blushing.' - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You're friends with Jack and Luke first, they decide to tease you good naturedly about your reaction to their older brother, Quinn.

To Fight a Ten Year Old - Quinn X Fem!Reader - In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Scratchy - Quinn X Fem!Reader - 18+ MDNI - Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

A Love that Gives, Gives, Gives - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes you think you have the perfect fitting bra and it turns out that it's actually a traitor in disguise. Sometimes your boyfriend is personally offended that an article of clothing would hurt you so much because he's a sap.

Squish Time - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Guard Dog - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

The Collection - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You keep every single puck that Quinn has ever given you, he finds your collection that you've been shyly hiding away. It might just be the thing that makes him realise you're the girl he's going to marry.

The Missing Puck - Quinn X Fem!Reader - It's the Hughes Bowl...and you're missing your usual warmup puck from Quinn. You think he's forgotten, he most definitely has not, but he didn't think this through. Fuck. Sequel to The Collection

A Little Misunderstanding - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Perfect Fit - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You fit perfectly into Quinn's family, knowing how much they love you just makes Quinn realise that you're it for him.

Teacher!Reader Series -

You teach teenagers History in Vancouver, while dating a pro-hockey player, Quinn Hughes. Recurring teenage OCs like David for the lols.

The Teacher's Always Right - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

National Teacher Day - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn has a big surprise for National Teacher Day that puts your relationship out in the public space

In Your Element - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element

The Little Things Mean A Lot - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes it's the small things that make you fall in love all over again, like your favourite Singapore chowmein from your favourite Chinese takeaway after a long day of teaching and parent's evening

In Sickness and in Health - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You've convinced yourself that you're not actually that ill, mostly because setting cover for your lessons is more trouble than its worth. Quinn is having none of it.

Priorities - Quinn X Fem!Reader -When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you. A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

In the Firing Line - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

The Jello Incident - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You come home from work and tell Quinn all about the jello incident at school and then fall asleep on him.

Morning Sickness - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn is getting increasingly worried about you as you're sick every morning and every evening, you're adamant that you're fine. Turns out you're right in a way.

Drabble: You're reaction of him being out on IR

Baby Shower Surprises - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn organises a baby shower for you with your high schoolers. It might just be the sweetest a bunch of teenagers have ever been.

[twistedpink]

IK I’ve miniposted about this before, but like.. Accents and quirks just do something to me. You know deep down, you’re into them too!! “English” is written as “Common” like in dnd, which I’m pretty sure is the canon language in twst

Riddle Rosehearts, that despite being raised all prim and proper in the queendom, just can’t drop his accent no matter how hard he studies. His niche lingo and references confuse everyone else- Even his own countrymen, because everything he says is outdated by at least a couple decades. It’s so much worse when you get into his head with all your “contemporary language”, it’s like a professional pickleball player trying to translate magicam into textbook logic.. Which if you’ve ever written a caption, DOESNT WORK. You love him all the same though, even if he’s a permanent senior <3

Octavinelle that’s made to learn multiple languages with vastly different systems for tone and dialect to even consider studying on land, and rely on you for translation in their first year :( Just imagine Floyd hanging off your shoulders, popping and clicking words in his native language to whisper the nastiest things he can muster- Just for your teachers to ask what he’s trying to say while he giggles into the fat of your blushy cheeks. Jade messing with your hands or mouth in public because “that is.. How we talk. At my home.” You’re smart enough to know they’re not that touchy under the sea, but you indulge him, as a treat for beating out his twin in appropriate articulation. Azul floundering (with elegance, ofc) in his first couple dealings while you whisper translations in his ear- You’re much too close, and he’s no guppy! <3

Jamil Viper, that unlike Kalim, doesn’t have all the professional teaching in common. He’s far from beginner, but there’s a clear divide- He’s self taught, and it gives him the cutest accent!! He slips into his native tongue most often when he’s upset and can’t communicate with all the adrenaline,, Maybe if you like the way he sounds so much, he’ll be willing to teach you a couple words! Can’t guarantee they won’t be targeted insults, though,, <3

Idia Shroud with an accent and stutter,, You can barely understand his common when he gets into those mumbly rants, and you’re the only who really cares what he’s saying in the first place! Eventually, you guys get into relationship-telepathy territory where you communicate almost exclusively with text and body language- But that doesn’t help your poor classmates, especially the ones in his dorm, that need him to speak for events and housewarden wisdom. Point for Idia, ig? Translator and partner acquired!! <3

Diasomnia with HEAVY accents and ANCIENT common vocabulary!!!! Lilia’s accent is the heaviest, and Sebek’s the lightest (even if he plays it up for his ego) but all of their vocab is a mash of textbook definitions and clunky, outdated slang. Silver has the easiest time with learning modern common on account of his native language still being human, but when he’s especially tired there’s zero common coming out of his mouth, and there’s been SO many incidents of him “speaking tongues”. Malleus hates his accent when he’s at school- It only makes it harder for people to understand him than it already is, but if you think it’s attractive I’m sure it lightens the blow <3

[cuteandhughesy]

Guess They Call It Fallin’ | Matthew Knies

summary: you and matthew promised yourselves once you took each others virginity's, nothing would change between you. but fast forward 3 years - between casual hook ups and spending all your time with one another: you can't help but fall deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.

[word count] 24.8k

warnings: NSFW! slow burn | friends with benefits | friends to lovers | loss of virginity (reader + matthew | secret relationship | angst | fluff | suggestive themes | alcohol | smut | kissing | grinding | fingering | unprotected! p in v intercourse | read at your own discretion.

🎵 I guess they call it fallin’ by kelsea ballerini

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Prologue: 3 years ago

since your shared freshman year of highschool, you knew you'd follow matthew knies anywhere.

when you moved to arizona the summer before the september school year, you had never dreaded anything more than the first day of highschool. all that fear and dread faded when you sat down in your home room beside matthew.

you're not sure how it even happened, but soon enough you and matthew became best friends. maybe it was because he reminded you of your old friends from public school - or maybe it was the way matthew treated you so kindly that very first day. you two were always seen with one another - in school halls and out of them.

it didn't take long for you to realize you had feelings for your best friend. I mean, he was nothing short of perfect. your little teenage hormones couldn't help but notice how handsome he was and how good he smelled - his growing biceps and how he seemed to get taller every summer: it was impossible to not fall for him.

you were always good at hiding your feelings. in fear of loosing your closest friend, you didn't even give hints away that you craved something more with matthew. you would take your friendship and hidden crush over loosing him completely- always.

but then something changed.

it was your senior year of highschool. college and university acceptance letters were flying through the doors, celebratory parties and drinking away the weekends were constant reminders of the upcoming graduation. like you've always known, you would follow your best friend everywhere - and that included post secondary school. when matthew got accepted to play for the university of minnesota's hockey team, you worked your butt off to get the grades the university was looking for. all that extra studying, and staying up late for practice payed off: you were accepted to the university of minnesota.

with only a week left before graduation, you and matthew found yourselves at some mutual friends house party. although most people were swimming or laughing by the bonfire, you found yourselves off to the side - enjoying the presence of one another as you lounged on sun beds and stared up at the stars.

the air was warm, and the alcohol in your system was keeping your blood running hot. you were still coherent and conscious - not having drank that much. matthew was the same, with flushed cheeks and a dopey smile, but not slurring or tired. you were both just...free and happy.

"hey," he said at your side, your attention drawn away from the night sky and over to him. he was so handsome, even more so with a cheesy smile and dim outside lighting. you swallow thickly and quirk a brow in his direction. matthew continues, "I just thought of something kind of crazy."

you turn you head so you can look at him comfortably, "oh no."

he laughs, "no nothing like, that crazy." suddenly, he springs up, now sitting with his knees facing you. "come here."

your brows shoot up, but you listen, hesitantly following suit and mimicking your best friends position. your knees brush against his much larger ones, the hairs tickling your bare skin - goose bumps rising over your tan legs. then, he slots his thighs between yours, and you get goosebumps for a whole other reason.

matthew leans in close, almost looking as if he was going to kiss you. you don't move an inch, just watching as he gets closer and closer to your parted lips. just when you go to close your eyes, his breath fans against your warm face.

"you know how we talked about uni - and how it's different there. how the hookup scene is wilder and how easy it will be there to loose our virginities?"

oh.

you recover from the thought that you were about to finally be kissed and furrow your brows. "yeah, what about that?"

"I was thinking - and you don't have to say yes or agree, but..." he pauses and analyzes your face quickly. you urge him to continue with a nudge against his thigh. "by the time we are both 18 and if we are still virgins - we should just have sex...together."

you're glad it's dark outside because your face and neck flush beat red. "matty..."

he sighs, and bows his head slightly. "It's crazy, I know. I just thought who better than each other, right? it's stupid, I shouldn't of said anything-"

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was because you were hopelessly addicted to making matthew happy but you grab his face between your small palms, urging him to look into your eyes. "it's not stupid." you swallow gently, "and it's definitely not crazy."

matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and you feel yourself lighten. you let go of his face before you have the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

"I think we should do it."

his eyes brighten ever so slightly, "really?"

you nod, "yeah! I mean if we both turn 18 and it hasn't happened - we should just do it. that way, we will enter our 'adulthood' with a notch on each of our belts."

he smiles ever so slightly, "yeah exactly." then he sticks his thick pinky out towards you, "let's pinky promise this, y/n/n. we won't be 18 year old virgins if all else fails."

and your finger wraps around his, solidifying your agreement.

—

college was fun. you think being away from home was easy because you had matthew with you - and he was all you needed to feel at home. although you both attended parties and made new friends - it didn't happen. you were both still virgins. matthew had an excuse though - he was so busy with hockey. between training, practices and games - he barley had time to see you, never mind some other girl.

and you, well, deep down you knew you weren't seeking anybody out because you couldn't think of anybody better than matthew to take your virginity. you're sure it was just your feelings for him talking, but you didn't care.

on october 17th, matthew turned 18. you and your small group of friends went out to some campus party and at the end of the night, matthew informed you he was still a virgin. although you knew that, it was still a relief to hear. in some twisted fantasy, you can help but hope maybe matthew was purposefully avoiding girls for you.

one month and a few days later, it was the eve of your 18th birthday. it was an odd day, because instead of going out like you did for matthew's 18th birthday, you stayed in with him, watching movies and having chocolate cupcakes- just the two of you. almost like you both knew - both ready to ignite the flames of your drunken agreement many months ago, and give one another your most intimate experience.

it started before midnight even hit - you wonder if matthew was sick of waiting around with his virginity. it was a mess of lips and spit, followed by the tangle of limbs and interlocking fingers on your dorm mattress. you had to ignore how perfect kissing matthew felt - how right it all felt.

slowly, clothes disappeared and kisses travelled - excitement grew. although this was supposed to be a nerve wracking experience- there was no signs of that between either of you. only gentle smiles and longing glances.

and when you were both finally naked, matthew clumsily wrapped up with a condom and you spread to accommodate his body between your legs. he paused the kiss, slowly pulling away to see your face.

matthew smiled, pushing the hairs back and away from your flushed face. he held your cheek tenderly, and you mimick his grin. "let's not let this change anything, okay? because I can't loose you." he whispers, thumb stroking the shell of your hot ear.

you nod, "I can't loose you either." one of your hands slide down his strong shoulder and grip onto his bicep, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "it's just us, matty. nothing will ever change."

and with that, matthew slowly pushed himself into you.

the following morning, you were awoken by the quiet shuffling in your room. slowly, you crack one eye open to see matthew, now dressed and smiling gently at you.

"hey," you mumble.

"morning," he hums, "I was just about to wake you up. I'm going to practice."

"okay," you say groggily, tucking yourself deeper into your pillow and away from the daylight streaming through your small window.

he laughs at your usual sleepy routine, very much used to your morning tiredness and uninterested state. turning, he grabs his phone from were he disregarded it the night prior. "i'll text you later, okay," he says, moving back to your slumped figure - running a hand over your mess of hair.

"m'kay," you mutter into your pillow.

then he leaves.

the door clicks shut, and your eyes shoot open- memories of the night before rushing back into your brain faster than you can comprehend them. you and your best friend had sex - and it wasn't akward or painful or anything remotely close.

it was perfect. soft touches, and sweet glances and everything you had ever wanted when experiencing sex for the first time. girls in highschool had talked about there experience- how awkward it was and uncomfortable they felt. with matthew, it was out of a fairytale.

your momentary wave of panick washes away, and you smile. your hand reaching up to gently trace over your lips, thinking of matthew's soft ones slotting against them only hours before.

this was the best case scenario- and you were living it. truthfully, you were expecting it to be this easy with matthew, solely because it was him.

what you weren't expecting though, was every so often when you were both a little tipsy and needy - you'd find yourselves back in bed, sharing kisses and exchanging orgasms.

but nothing ever changed between you. it was still just you and matthew, continuing to be best friends like you haven't had the most intimate parts of one another. you weren't dating, or acting any different outside of the bedroom. just the occasional longing glance, or brushing hands, or trying your hardest to resist kissing, it was fine...really.

Part One: May 2023

you roll up to the balls of your feet and then fall back to your heels. the attempt to see over the bustling airport crowd was unsuccessful, and you sigh gently.

you knaw on your bottom lip and again try and peer over the sea of heads moving throughout the building, trying to catch a glimpse of your tall friend.

matthew had been living in toronto for a couple months while he made is nhl debut with the toronto maple leafs. although the season ended quicker than anticipated, you were still extremely proud of your friend.

with your exam schedule, you couldn't make any of the games like you had hoped. you would've spent your life savings on a plane ticket and glass seats if it meant seeing matthew play in the major league - but school had other plans for you. although, that didn't stop you from calling him or texting him after every game, both of you talking about every single thing you've missed.

in the second last game of the leafs playoff season, matthew got a concussion - a pretty bad one at that. matthew had been pretty upset, and even looked sniffly on facetime (you gave him shit for being on his phone when he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't care: he just wanted you). once he was cleared to fly back home, he called you immediately to ask if you could pick him up from the airport - obviously, you agreed.

so there you stood, in the middle of the airport as families and business men alike all passed by, distracted as they tried to make flights and get to security. it's almost 30 minutes past the time matthew had told you he'd landed. you try not to worry too much - he'd probably just gotten held up at baggage claim or needed the bathroom before he made his way to you.

just as you pull out your phone to call him, a strong arm wraps around your shoulders from behind, pulling your body into their broad chest.

you don't panick, because you know it's matthew immediately. you can smell the ralph lauren cologne he's been wearing since freshman year, and you recognize the soft material of his t-shirt - the t-shirt you've not only pressed your face into in search of hugs but also have stolen on a few occasions.

"you're not even looking for me, what the hell." matthew says against the shell of your ear. his tone of voice is clearly teasing, trying to get a rise out of you.

you spin in his grasp, your air forces squeaking against the tiled floor of the scottsdale airport. he doesn't release your shoulders, keeping you against his front. automatically, you wrap your arms around his thick waist. "it's not my fault you took an hour to get through the airport - I got bored and gave up."

he scoffs playfully, tugging the end of you ponytail, "rude."

you smirk teasingly, "you're right, that's no way to talk to an nhl superstar."

matthew blushes at your words, and his smile brightens right before your very eyes. the sight of his overwhelming happiness has your stanch swooping, butterflies banging against your sides as they fly about.

"i'm no superstar, y/n/n." he whispers, face tilted downwards so he can keep eye contact.

you shrug against him, "I disagree."

you watch as his tongue passes through his lips, swiping along his bottom lip to wet the already plump and pink skin. in that moment, as matthew stares back at you, you think he may lean in for a kiss and you feel your heart hammer with joy.

instead, you see matthew's other hand jolt up, gripping a bouquet of flowers and waving them ever so gently in your peripheral vision. you look over to the blooming display, brows raised.

"got these for you," he muses.

you smile, "why are you getting me things! you're the one who deserves the good things."

his eyes flicker with something you can't quite understand, and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "i've got my good thing right here with me." his words have you freezing ever so slightly, but you don't have time to think of any underlying meaning, because matthew continues, "it's a thank you for coming to pick me up."

you take the flowers, sniffing one of the deep pink tulips, your senses filled with the sweet floral smell you loved so much. "well, then, you're welcome." you tease, dropping the bouquet down from your nose. "that reminds me," you smile, your free hand digging around your jeans back pocket until you locate a chocolate bar. the kitkat is a little mushy from the heat of your body, and the wrapper is a bit crinkled, but you jut it in matthew's direction anyway. "your favourite!"

matthew smiles, taking the chocolate from your hand and inspecting the wrapper. then, he glances back at you with a teasing look. "you know, athletes aren't supposed to eat stuff like this."

"so you don't want it?" you question, a raise to one of your perfectly styled brows.

"oh no, i'm eating it." matthew laughs gently, immediately ripping the red wrapper off the chocolate and taking a messy bite. chocolate smears on his top lip and you laugh.

"you got a little something right there," you whisper gently, finger ghosting over his cupids bow as you gesture to the smeared sweet goodness.

his hand is now wrapped around your waist, holding you to him. matthews brows raise ever so slightly, a grin slowly appearing on his mouth. "yeah?" you nod. "you gunna get it for me?"

you want to kiss him so bad...does he want you to kiss him?

but instead you scrunch your nose playfully, wiping your thumb over his mouth until any traces of smeared chocolate are gone. you don't see the way matthew's eyes change slightly, watching as you use your hands to get rid of the mess.

"ready to go, matty?"

he nods softly, "let's go."

the ride back home is filled with laughter and smiles. matthew is so happy to talk about his experience playing in the nhl - even though you've talked about it before. seeing him speak about the opportunity face to face was something you'd never forget.

you tell him about how emma from your shared history class bombed her final presentation, and that had matthew laughing as you explained the whole thing animatedly. you talk about plans for the summer and finally seeing your friends from highschool after a year away in minnesota.

a kelsea ballerini song slowly fades as you pull up against the curb of matthew's childhood home. a home that you spent your entire highschool life in - studying and laughing and watching movies and just enjoying each others presence. the thought of all those memories have you grinning as you park the car - unlocking the doors once you've stopped.

matthew unbuckles his seat belt. he doesn't hear you move, or the click of your seat belt buckle and looks over at you, a small v shape forming between his drawn brows. "are you not coming in?"

"I don't want to interrupt, matty. they haven't seen you in a little bit."

he shakes his head, "my mom already asked for you to join - and I told her you'd come in, so..."

you sigh and he watches you give him a knowing look - one that isn't buying his bullshit: he knows it all too well. matthew sends a sheepish smile your way and briefly shrugs his shoulders. "at least help me with my bags. what kind of friend would you be if you didn't help me with them," he teases.

the kind of friend you kiss and hold and fuck, you think.

regardless, you unbuckle your seatbelt with a faux annoyed look. matthew's smile grows into one of successes, and you purposefully avoid his now cheeky expression. "yeah, yeah, let's go."

matthew lied about his mom inviting you over - which you knew he did (because you can read your best friend like a book), but she was excited to see you regardless. as soon as his mom jumped in suprise and expressed her joy at your presence- you sent matthew a deathly glare for his lie. he could only smirk playfully in response to your obvious annoyed reaction.

in her typical fashion, matthew's mom coddled both of you and fed you dinner just like she used to do when the two of you were still kids in highschool.

unlike you, matthew's parents made it to a couple of his nhl games. even though they've seen him since he left for minnesota, they haven't talked about school since christmas - when they were down in toronto, the topic of conversation was obviously matthew's nhl debut.

so you weren't suprised when his mom, between chews of her cheesy pasta, started peppering her son with all sorts of questions.

"did you make friends with anyone new since we last talked?"

"how was your roommate and the dishes situation?"

"did you ever figure out your biology assignment? or was it chemistry?"

"any girlfriends while you were in toronto?"

"mum," matthew laughs awkwardly, his fork hitting the plate with a clinck, "your foods going to get cold if you keep asking all these questions."

his brother snickers into his pepsi filled glass. you and him share a brief look once their mum kicks matthew under the table because of his remark - regardless, she was laughing along with the table. "you're right, i'm sorry - just curious."

matthew doesn't answer the last question, which has you feeling nervous. you watch as he drags his bread through a section of sauce, soaking the garlic flavoured dough. he meets your curious eyes - deep in thought - as he takes a bite. you smile politely in his direction, eyes darting away. if he sees your worried expression, he doesn't say anything, looking away once you do.

you shove some pasta in your mouth and try not to overthink - which was always impossible when it came to your brain and matthew.

"what about you, y/n?" his dad asks from the head of the table, dropping his piece of garlic toast on the side of his ceramic plate. "any boyfriend?"

you choke slightly on a spaghetti noodle, taking a few gulps of water to calm your coughing and burning face. "sorry. no," you hum once you've collected yourself, "nothing like that."

in your peripheral vision, you see matthew turn to look at you again. you glance at him quickly, and he gives you a knowing look, shoving a large bite of food into his mouth in an attempt to cover his smirk.

you dart your gaze away quickly - your face burning for an entirely different reason.

"really?!" his mum muses, oblivious to the glances exchanged between you and her son, "I gotta say you two, all these years away at school and neither of you in relationships - I'd say you spend too much time together."

you blush, clearing your throat. your eyes meet your plate of food as you begin to slide your fork through the last bites of sauce and meat.

"that's definitely it," matthew hums, not meeting your eyes in favour of finishing off his plate. underneath the table, his knee bumps yours once, and you're not sure if he meant to do it, but you fight a smile regardless - gently bumping his back.

only an hour after finishing dinner and cleaning up the mess of pots and plates - matthew was begging you to come to the beach with him for sunset before heading back home. you let him him beg and convince you, even though you were set on going as soon as the words left his mouth.

the sand is warm on your feet as you dig them into the granules - sand dusting up to your ankles and coating your braided anklet. the sunset is reflecting on your face, providing a warm glow not only on you, but on the entire beach. you close your eyes and take a long inhale, basking in the feeling.

matthew drops down beside you, his added weight pulling on the blanket you'd set down. he leans back on to his hands and stretches his legs out - his feet sliding through the sand and sending tiny particles onto the blanket.

you huff, immediately trying to dust it all off. it makes your best friend laugh quietly beside you.

"I missed you," matthew whispers a few minutes after you cleared the blanket. "so much."

you look over at him, meeting his blue gaze. he looks so beautiful with the hues of orange and fuscha reflecting around him. clean shaven, and t-shirt stretching around his muscles ever so nicely. "i missed you," you say back.

matthew's forearm brushes against yours and his palm is so close to yours in the sand that if you just reached out, you'd be able to wrap your pinky over his. you're unsure if he means to brush your limbs together, and you think about pulling away, but then his muscles flex against you, and you feel him press his arm against yours firmly - conforming he wants you there.

that action has you thinking back a few hours ago at the dinner table - matthew's knee touching yours under the table privately. but thinking about that part of the dinner, also has you thinking about how matthew never gave an answer about having a girlfriend while he was away.

even thinking about that has your stomach dropping like you'd just dropped on a roller coaster. before you can stop yourself, you get his attention gently, "matty?"

he hums, his eyes trained on the setting sun across the water.

"is there a girl in toronto?"

you're pretty sure his arm goes rigid on yours. you've dropped on the roller coaster again, feeling your organs fall all the way to your feet. matthew sighs gently, "y/n.."

when you and matthew started casually hooking up, you both decided to not only stay best friends, but you also chose to not be exclusive. the point of loosing your virginities to one another was to get over that awkward milestone with a future partner. therefore, once you were both free of that title, you could go out into the dating scene and feel free - and have sex with whoever.

so of course there was a chance matthew was hooking up with somebody in toronto - you'd be happy if he did, truly. as his best friend, you want him to be happy. as his unrequited lover, you couldn't bare the thought. because although matthew may be not be exclusive, you have always been (unbeknownst to him).

without wanting to sound bothered or upset, you laugh breathlessly. "it doesn't matter if you do, matty. we're friends, right? no secrets ever." - a promise you and him had always cherished was never ever having secrets - excluding your painfully excruciating crush on him (obviously).

"no, I know," matthew nods with an expression you can't quite decipher. it's something between soft and maybe guilty - possibly innocent or nothing even close. he sighs again, "there's no girl...and no secrets."

you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, suppressing the grin as it slowly made its way onto your face.

"well," matthew says lightheartedly. he pushes off his hands, dusting the sand off his palms once he sits up. his back muscles have you too distracted to notice all the sand covering your blanket. once positioned, matthew looks back at you over his shoulder, "there is one girl."

if it wasn't for his playful tone and the smirk he was sending in your direction, you'd think he was being serious. you push off your hands as well and wrap them around his bulged bicep. "oh yeah? who's that?" you ask gently, leaning into his warm body.

"you," he whispers, hooked nose brushing against yours delicately - if you didn't know this was the way you and matthew acted, you'd be tricked into thinking he had feelings for you.

you scrunch your nose against his, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "you just want to get laid."

matthew's lips look like they may turn into a downwards pull, and you already feel the panick bubbling at your chest - what had you said wrong?

but he clears his throat, mouth turning into a soft smirk. "maybe..."

you force another laugh, "good," you lie, "me too."

and in your and matthew's lonesome on the sandy beach, he slowly leans back into your space, finally pressing a kiss against your lips.

your grip on his arm tightens when his tongue slips between your parted lips, allowing him access to deepn the kiss - tongues massaging one another as they skillfully move.

when matthew pulls away a few minutes later, he's breathing heavily, an all too familiar haze in his eyes and smile on his swollen pink lips.  "let's get in your car."

you nod, "m'kay."

the last bit of the evening sun is falling on you both and illuminating the water. matthew's helps you up, grabbing the blanket and making sure to dust all the sand off before throwing it in your backseat.

when he pulls you against his chest in the privacy of your car and continues your hot kiss, you think you just so happen to be falling deeper in love with your best friend.

Part Two:

the alchemy was the towns best hangout spot. not only was there a bar and dance floor, but they had amazing food and an even better atmosphere. at the end of every week, they'd often have local bands come in to play their set - friday was always the night to go.

this friday was no exception. there was a lineup outside the building, and every few minutes it would get shorter as the bouncers checked ID's and sent people in. you, as well as some other friends in your group, weren't of age yet, so you were already preparing for the purple X they'd draw on your hand to stain your skin and indicate your age.

your good friend janie is fixing her lip gloss in her small compact mirror as she faces you. janie was somebody who valued her appearance very much - but she was so beautiful, she barley had to do anything to maintain it. you watch as her boyfriend, daniel, talks her ear off about something he had seen at the mall earlier, face animated as he flails his hands.

the line moves again and behind you, matthew pushes you along gently - presses into your backside with his hips as you inch forward. he's not even looking at you when he does it, too busy conversing with another friend of yours, logan.

matthew's hand is warm on your exposed hip, his thumb gently resting against the waist band of your jean shorts - slowly stroking the edge, thumb occasionally dipping under the material. you sigh pleasantly, head falling back to rest against his peck.

a moment later, matthew looks down at you, a smile making its way onto his face. you notice logan has turned his attention to another person in your small group of friends - leaving all your friends distracted.

you loved and appreciated your small group of friends from high school, and always cherished your time together as well as your closeness. but there is one thing you and matthew never disclosed: your complicated relationship. at the beginning, you weren't sure there was a term for you and matthew's situation, but now you know it's friends with benefits. you'd never even admitted that to yourself, never mind telling all your friends. in fantasy land, matthew was your boyfriend and he loved you back - he pulls you in for kisses in front of his family and your friends, and he tells his family he has a girl: you.

"what's going on with you?" matthew's whispered words have you pulled from your own thoughts, his hips still against you - shuffling you further up line. "you look deep in thought - that's never good." he teases.

you scoff, smacking his chest with the back of your hand playfully. your actions have matthew laughing deeply, chest rumbling against your shoulders - which makes you smile. "not much," you hum.

discreetly, you check and make sure nobody is in earshot and eavesdropping on you and your best friend - you notice they're distracted. you lean your head up so you can be closer to his ear and whisper, "just that you look kinda hot in that hat."

matthew is wearing a western style cowboy hat atop his head, paired with jeans and a white tshirt. it's rodeo theme at the alchemy tonight, and matthew isn't the only one dressed for the occasion. your friend group and everyone else in line are dressed in their best western style. hats and boots are everywhere in sight, along with cow prints and pleather tassels.

"goes it make me look like a cowboy?" he questions with a suggestive raise to his eyebrows - a smirk tugging at his mouth.

you giggle slightly and nod once with conformation. "yes."

"good," he hums, "you gunna ride me?" his eyes dart down to your shirt, which so happens to say 'save a horse and ride a cowboy.' you bought it specifically for the occasion, obviously - paired with your favourite denim shorts and cowgirl boots. definitely not the most creative or unique outfit - but still on theme.

you blush, "depends...you gunna let me try that on?" with your question, you spin around to face matthew, reaching up to try and grab his hat from his head. matthew grabs your hand before you can reach the brim, halting your movement.

you pout, "matty..."

matthew huffs likes he's annoyed, but the very edges of his plump lips begin to tug upwards. without another word, he grabs the hat from the top, plopping it down on your head so that it covers your eyes, your straight hair falling over your face.

you laugh, pulling the hat off so you can attempt to adjust your hair back into place. matthew beats you to it, his warm hands pushing away all the strands from your vision with a fond gleam in his eyes. he doesn't pull away once he's done moving your hair and his hands slide down to hold the side of your face for a moment longer.

you wish that he'd kiss you then. but he doesn't, and you feel your face wanting to drop with disappointment.

trying to hide the sadness you feel, you put matthew's cowboy hat back on your head; properly this time so that no hair gets in the way.

your group makes it to the entrance of the alchemy, and country music is flowing through the open doors. the two bouncers check over all your id's and mark the appropriate people who are underage - matthew and you included.

once you enter, you immediately notice how the crowd was bustling - loud laughter, music and the tangy smell of beer throughout.

"yo, let's get that table!" daniel shouts over the noise of the crowd, pointing in the direction of an area near the back of the alchemy that seemed unoccupied.

while you walk through the busy place, matthew grabs ahold of your hand softly, guiding you behind him as you all make your way to the table. the feeling of his hand on yours in such a public setting feels overwhelming in the best way, and there's a part of you that hopes any girl who'd seen him walk in - now thinks he's in a relationship and any advances they'd thought of making are halted.

you and your friends order a round of drinks as soon as you sit down, and you send your friend april, as well as logan, up to the bar to collect everyone's desired beverages.

although you couldn't order the drinks, that didn't mean you couldn't sneak some. one or two vodka sodas combined with the shots you pregamed would have you feeling drunk in no time.

and that was true, because an hour later, you and janie were both very buzzed in the middle of the crowded dance floor - dancing to some megan moroney cover song.

"so," janie starts with a suggestive smirk, "you and matthew looked pretty cozy earlier."

"what?" you squeak, "no, we're just -I don't know janie, you know how we are."

she eyes you suspiciously, "you two have so much sexual tension recently. you guys should like...fuck or something."

your eyes widen and you blush, slightly choking on your own attempt to cough. "absolutely not," you squeak, "I mean - that would just...ruin things."

she laughs slightly and shrugs her exposed tan shoulders in your direction, "just a suggestion. I mean, he probably wants to do it anyways."

you knaw on your lip, forehead lines deepening as you take in your friends words. "why do you think that?" a momentary swirl of panic overtakes you, and you're worried yourself and matthew were being too obvious.

"y/n," she laughs, her hips swaying to the country tune lightly, "guys don't act like that for no reason! I mean, the way he looks at you..."

you swallow quickly. briefly, your eyes meet your shoes and you resist the urge to sigh sadly. "we're just best friends, jaine, believe me."

you wish you were more, your drunk brain reminds you.

you look away from the floor to find janie, but she's isn't looking at you, but rather her eyes are trained over your shoulder. then, she smirks slightly at you, "looks like he's coming over here."

just like a 6th grade girl with a crush, you freeze. blushing all the way down to your chest and eyes widening. trying to remain nonchalant, you shrug and take a sip of your drink.

"i'm gunna go." your brunette friend says, "before you two get all...sensual." janie sends you one last teasing look over her shoulder as she walks away - leaving you waiting anxiously for matthew's touch.

a moment later, you feel matthew press against you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a brief hug - merely missing your drink as he does so. immediately with his touch, all earlier anxious and physical jitters vanish and you relax into matthew's familiar grip.

"missed you over there," he mutters into your ear. "our table was boring without you." matthew's nose nudges against the shell of your ear and then he leans farther down your body - pressing a hot kiss right between the skin of your shoulder and the base of your neck.

you swoon. his touch combined with the warm breath tickling against your skin, as well as the feeling of his lips pressing against you, causes something similar to a moan to leave your lips quietly.

the alcohol in your system has completely stolen your filter, and you can only pray that your friends can't see the way matthew had just approached you - or how you reacted to his touch.

at your breathy exhale, matthew spins your body around so that you are standing pressed chest to chest. he smirks when he catches sight of your happy flushed face and drunken hazy eyes. "you look so hot dancing." he says lowly.

you reach up and delicately brush a fallen eyelash off his cheek. "is that so?" you question, purposely pressing your boobs harder into his chest.

"definitely so," he agrees.

behind you, the band starts a new song, something with less tempo that your buzzed brain doesn't recognize immediately.

it looks like matthew does recognize the tune though, and he sends you a smirk. "dance with me?" he questions cheekily, reaching down to grab his cowboy hat you were still wearing, placing it back on his own head.

you don't care enough to protest, partially because he looks too good in it for you to complain. you raise your cup in his direction, "i've got this still."

just as you finish your scentence, matthew grabs your drink, raising it to his mouth and chugging the last of its contents. you gawk, watching as he wipes his mouth and places your now empty cup on a nearby table.

one of matthew's hands grab ahold of your waist, while the other takes your hand in his own - interlocking your fingers together. "now you can dance," he teases, swaying you both to the song.

"I hate you," you huff. your words have no real bite as you begin to smile.

"you can't hate me," matthew says matter of factly, "i'm your best friend."

you frown ever so slightly, jutting your chin up, "just your best friend?" you're buzz has you clearly teetering on drunk, and matthew can tell - not only from your question but your blissed expression.

he chooses not to answer your question but you don't seem to mind, too busy swaying to the song you loved so much.

"stand by me," you sing to him, "ooooh stand by me."

matthew laughs fondly, and you beam up at him. "you're a natural," he states teasingly.

"you sing the next part with me," you insist.

"it's not a duet."

"it is now," you state, "c'mon - just as long you stand, stand by me."

matthew joins in, "and darling, darling stand by me!" his tone is pitchy and he's singing loud enough to earn interested stares from the people in your vicinity.

it has you faltering, laughing into his warm chest. matthew stops singing as well, watching amused as you lean into him with nothing but happiness on your face. he releases your hand in favour to wrap that hand around your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

you wake with a deep groan, squinting at the harsh light on your face that was streaming through open curtains. with another groan, you pull the blanket up and over your face to hide yourself from your own hangover.

the smell of matthew's cologne and laundry detergent has you pausing, cracking open one eye to see the familiar navy sheets on matthew's childhood bed.

you toss the blanket away from your face, and turn to see him watching you gently from the other side of the bed - an ever knowing grin on his face at your hungover morning behaviour.

"shut up," you grumble, pushing up from your flat position to mimic him, sitting with your back flat against the headboard.

"didn't say anything," matthew muses.

"but you thought it," you huff. his laughter is enough for you to know your accusation was true, and you squint annoyed at him.

"I brought you this," he hands you a bottle of water and two aspirins, which you take immediately, sighing in relief at the water falling down your dry throat.

slowly, the night before comes back to you. memories of cowgirl boots, your friends downing drinks and dancing all night flooding your brain. your groan once more, covering your face briefly when a wave of nausea comes over you. "ugh, I never want to here stand by me again."

matthew laughs loudly, body rolling over until he's pressed into your side.

you laugh gently with him, dropping your hands from your face so you can see. "seriously!"

"anytime I hear that song now i'm going to think of you," matthew insists. subconsciously, one of matthew's fingers trial over your forearm, gently tickling your skin as he looks up at you from his now slouched position.

although the thought of the song is currently making you feel sick, matthew's words have you feeling fuzzy - there was worse songs that could remind him of you, and stand by me was a really sweet one to he associated with.

because you don't say anything, matthew starts to sing, "stand by me, ohhhh!"

you shush him with a laugh, placing your hand over his mouth.

Part Three (A):

"5...4...3...2...1....and you're done," daniel cheers as you all watch jaine drop back down to her feet from her previous hand stand.

she smiles victorious, giving a bow in your direction. she stumbles slightly, the combination between her various drinks and uneven grassy ground throwing her off balance. she is still just as happy for completing her dare despite her shaky balance, skipping back towards the bonfire you all sat around and taking her seat between you and her boyfriend.

"I did the 20 second hand stand - those 3 years of gymnastics really payed off," she chimes, "take a sip, logan."

logan, the one who gave her the dare, tongues his cheek before he takes a large gulp of his seltzer. it goes down easily, and you watch his face in the glow from the bonfire - some of the liquid falling from the corner of his mouth, dripping until he wipes it away. "alright, janie, we don't have all day."

she doesn't answer to his teasing, eyes searching your small group of friends to find the next recipient of her question. "april," she starts, "truth or dare?"

april, another one of your highschool friends, laughs lightly, uncrossing her tan legs as she ponders. "truth," she settles on.

"when was the last time you had a dirty dream?" janie giggles like she already had the question locked and loaded in her brain - either that or she knows something about april that the rest of you don't. the thought has you giggling into your chest.

the guys in your group all tease her, a low chorus of 'ouuuu' echoing in logan's backyard.

she blushes at the question. "god, I can't answer that! I don't even think i've ever had one!" april squawks, covering her burning cheeks with her hands.

"you gotta finish your drink if you don't answer," dylan, another member of your circle of friends reminders her.

without another word, april chugs her entire can, finishing off the fruity drink in mere seconds. you all cheer her on as she finishes, trying to collect her breathing.

classic party games have always been a staple when your friends all got together. whether it was back when you were all still in highschool - akward and acne prone, or times like right now - when you were all home for the summer - you all played them. truth or dare was a common one, offering the best combination of fun activity and talking. plus, it was easy to incorporate a few drinks - which always spiced things up.

"y/n," april's sweet voice calls your attention, "truth or dare?" she asks, a mischievous grin beginning to tug at her lined lips.

on instinct, you want to say truth. truth is usually easier and sometimes less embarrassing than the dares that go around this group; you think back to highschool when logan had to streak through the neighborhood or when janie had to post an akward singing video for her followers to see. but with truths, secrets can go hand in hand - and you had a big secret - one that you aren't sure you can hide too much longer.

across from you, matthew meets your gaze. he's watching you with a teasing glimmer in his eyes, mouth hid behind his canned drink as he takes a nonchalant sip.

"dare," you decide, eyes darting back to april.

her smile widens, and if she wasn't so pretty you'd think she looked rather evil. you wouldn't be suprised if her hands came together wickedly and she begins to cackle. "I dare you...." april pauses dramatically, grin growing "...to kiss logan."

oh my god.

"what?" you ask, brows raised in a mixture of suprise and shock.

"c'mon!" daniel cheers, reaching over his girlfriend's body to push against your shoulder playfully.

"pucker up those lips," dylan teases.

you laugh awkwardly, tucking some of your hair away.

daniel interrupts, "-and no drinking out of dares!"

you'd honestly forgotten about that rule - one that you had made up a few years back when too many people were opting out of dares and the game had just become a chug fest.

you meet matthew's eyes again, expect this time he is looking at you with a weary expression. fair enough, you think, because why would he want his fuck buddy to make out with his friend right in front of him.

"if she really doesn't want to we shouldn't make her," he says firmly.

you heart flutters in your chest at the thought of matthew possibly feeling jealous, but then you remember what you and him are, and you deflate once more. he wasn't jealous, more likely feeling uncomfortable.

"rules are rules," janie sing songs, bumping into your side teasingly.

you don't want to draw to much attention or conger any questions from matthew's words being tied to your hesitation, so you stand up, walking confidently to the blonde boy across from you.

logan laughs, letting you invade his space.

"hands to yourself," you tell him, trying your best to sound playful and not worried or nervous.

"same goes for you," he quips back.

you ignore him, gently grabbing onto his shoulder as you lean down to meet his seated height, pressing your lips onto his. they slot together, and he gently sucks along your bottom lip.

logan's kiss is nowhere near as nice as any of the ones matthew has given you. his lips weren't as soft as matthew's, or as gentle. logan's only held notes of lust and eagerness - matthew's always took their time and moved skillfully.

then, logan grabs your face between both your hands, stopping your kiss so he can lick up the side of your cheek sloppily.

your friends laugh, and you push away with a smile, wiping away any silva with the back of your hand. "you're foul," you breath with quick laugh.

"gotta keep it interesting," logan teases, shifting in his seat so he can reach for another can of beer.

"I have to go clean my face," you say loudly, "i'll be in the bathroom." you make your way to the patio door, entering the quiet house, your friends laughter and continuation of the game slowly quieting as you slide the door closed behind you.

you flick on the bright bathroom light before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the small powder room near the front of the home. you quickly clean your face with a baby wipe, then washing off any residue with some soap and water.

thankfully in the summer months, you didn't wear much makeup, meaning you weren't really altering your appearance but rubbing suds into your face and rinsing with water.

you turn to leave, but out of something that feels like guilt, you walk back to the sink and scrub at your lips, essentially wiping off the traces of the kiss with your longtime friend.

for matthew, your brain reminds you with a tease.

you shake your head and blink away the thought, turning back to the door and pulling it open.

matthew stands there, hand reached out like he was about to open the bathroom door just before you. you meet his eyes gently, and he looks down at you with a darkened gaze, slightly breathless as he stand in front of you.

then, he backs you both into the powder room, shutting the door again so you're both standing in the small space. matthew strides towards you, grabbing onto your face and tilting your head back into the perfect position for him to press his lips against as yours.

you moan immediately, hands grabbing onto his waist over his shirt. you both smell like bonfire mixed with your respective alcoholic beverages, but it isn't off putting: only familiar - comfortable.

matthew nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp gently, which gives him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. the feeling has you panting into his mouth, fingers gripping his shirt tighter.

he pulls back only briefly, "how long before they come looking?" his lips brush against yours as he asks, and you can barley focus on his question at the feeling.

"couple more minutes," you pant.

he doesn't say anything else in favour of pushing his mouth back into yours. it's sloppy, like he's racing against time -desperately trying to get as much of you as humanly possible.

matthew turns your body until you're pushed against the bathroom sink. the ceramic digs into your lower back, but you don't care enough to change that. you're too focused on the way matthew pushes his thick thigh between your legs, simultaneously moving your thighs apart as well as providing his leg as another form of stimulation.

he grunts against your lips as you rock against him, and one of his hands leaves you face and drops towards your lower back - slipping between you and the hard sink. he pulls you closer by your back, dragging your core farther up his thigh.

"we need to stop," matthew breaths, "because soon i'll have no choice but to fuck you on our friends sink."

you gulp, "is that so bad?"

"no," he licks his lip, "but they'll definitely catch us."

with that, you agree, and you both untangle yourselves from one another. you turn away to adjust your frazzled hair in the small mirror above the bathroom counter. unfortunately, you can't do much about your glossy eyes and flushed face, but both can be disguised as you just drinking too much.

you feel matthew press himself behind you, his bulge resting against your ass and you look away from your appearance to meet his eyes through the mirror. he's looking at you with an odd look, so you raise one of your brows in question. "you okay?"

he blinks three times, taking a deep breath. "yeah, just...lost in my thoughts for a moment there."

you frown, worries of only minutes ago of you kissing logan filling your head - he's come in here to claim his territory and assert dominance because you'd kissed logan. "are you mad at me?" you question gently, eyes still trained on his through the mirror.

matthew's brows pull together, and he grabs onto your hips, spinning you around to face him once more. "why would I be mad at you?"

you shrug sheepishly, and you hold onto your own arms apprehensively. "maybe because I kissed logan? right in front you. and I know that we are just fucking or whatever...but, you're mad because you feel, I don't know, disrespected."

immediately after you finish, matthew shakes his head. he pushes away any baby hairs around your face, keeping his hand resting on the side of your head. "absolutely not." you see something flash in his eyes before he continues, "i think i'm just jealous - actually I know that i'm jealous."

"jealous?" you whisper.

he nods again, "jealous because logan got to kiss you before I did tonight."

"oh," you fight back a smirk, and you drop you arms in favour of wrapping them around matthew's torso - he lets you pull him closer wordlessly. "if it's any constellation, out of the two kisses i've had tonight, yours is the only one I enjoyed."

he smirks, "I bet the licking had something to do with that."

you laugh, "something."

he pretends to ponder, "maybe I should up my tongue game some more."

you giggle loudly, and the sound has matthew breaking character to smile fondly down at you. then he interrupts your giggle with one more kiss.

in that moment, it feels like a relationship rather than just friendship with perks. the way matthew holds onto you, and smiles down at you - the way you smile back. merely moments ago you were ready to have sex in somebody else's house, purely because you couldn't help yourself - too in love and drunk to not. that intense, hot moment now turned soft and sweet, while matthew say's things that he knows will make you laugh. in that moment, you let yourself pretend.

you let yourself pretend matthew wasn't only jealous because his friend got the kiss question before him - he was jealous because the girl he loved had to kiss someone else.

how you long for that to be true.

nobody is suspicious when you and matthew make your way back outside and take your respective seats. nobody questions either of you - too busy watching daniel give dylan a lap dance.

over the flames of the fire, matthew catches your gaze. he tongues his cheek to try and hide the smirk he couldn't help.

Part Three (B): junior year of highschool

you often worried when it came to your best friend. not necessarily about him physically, but rather about what what he thinks and knows. not to say you didn't care about what physically happened to him, but the thought of him finding out your deepest hidden feelings for him was more worrying than a bruise or a headache - or so you thought.

when matthew texted you late at night that something had happened to him, you didn't hesitate to hop in your car and make the drive over to his families home.

you knew the code to his front door and let yourself in quietly - mindful of 11 p.m. approaching.

you toed off your slippers on the christmas themed door mat before making your way further into the gingerbread scented home. the sound of friends and the glow of the tv alerted you to somebody up in the family room, and you slowed in your steps as you approached.

phil, matthew's brother, looks in your direction. he doesn't seem suprised by your presence, so you think matthew must've mentioned that you'd be coming over. phil nods once over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the show. "he's upstairs."

"thanks," you say gently, making your way up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, and all the way to matthew's bedroom door.

you don't bother knocking, because you and him never did, and push open his wooden door. the room is only illuminated by his bedside lamp, casting a warm glow on his cream coloured walls and mousey brown furniture.

you catch matthew's eyes and a frown tugs at your lips. he looks tired, presumably from his hockey game earlier in the evening.

"hey," he says quietly. he pushes up from his slouched position and gets off his bed, making his way over to you.

you walk into the room and shut the door softly behind you. "hey," you say, "what's wrong?"

you catch a glimpse of matthew's frown and teary eyes before he wraps his arms around you - pulling your body into his chest for a tight embrace. instantly, you reciprocate the hug, your smaller arms wrapping around his upper back, rubbing soothingly along the ripples of muscles under his skin.

he takes a shaky deep inhale against you, and the feeling has your frown deepening. seeing your best friend so upset was gut wrenching enough, never mind when you also have an embarrassingly large crush on him. "please, talk to me, matty. what's going on?"

he takes one more big breath before he releases you. "i've had a shitty day. school dragged on and then mr. johnson failed me on that assignment from last week. then, during my game I took a weird hit and totally fucked my shoulder! not only that but after the hit I made a shit play and got benched. i'm just...tired." he finishes, his shoulders deflating.

you listen with a slight pout, your eyes intensely dancing over his flushed cheeks and deep coloured bags sitting below his eyes. "i'm sorry about your shitty day." you say.

"not your fault," matthew shrugs.

"what do you want me to do for you?" you ask gently. you think about reaching out again, maybe to run your hand over his arm reassuringly - or caress his face as you tried to ease him into a less overwhelmed state, but you decide against it.

"I just want you to be with me," he admits quietly, "can we just watch a movie or something?"

you nod instantly. you do touch him this time, but he is the one who initiates the contact - grabbing on to your hand gently to guide you over to his unmade bed. you're thankful it's not too light in his bedroom, because you blush at the feeling of his hand in yours.

matthew pulls back the already flailed blanket, allowing you to climb into the mess of bedding and get comfortable before he makes his entrance.

he sits back against his headboard as he scrolls through options on netflix. wordlessly, he chooses 13 going on 30, which you think is a bit odd - but you've always loved the jennifer garner rom-com, so you weren't complaining.

the start of the film begins to play quietly and matthew sinks down into the pillows. he rolls towards you and pushes himself into the side of your torso.

you instantly feel hot. you thank your past self for choosing sleep shorts to go with your long sleeve top, because you would've died from overheating if you choose sweatpants. he throws his arm across your belly, hand reaching up to rest against your rib cage - you hope he can't feel your heart beating too hard. matthew pushes his knee under your leg, effectively sliding between you and the mattress - your leg now resting on top his.

you stay still, too worried that if you move or speak you'll wake up from a dream - a dream in which that this was a normal activity for somebody and their best friend to do. it's not that you and matthew were never touchy, as he would often find your hand in large crowds so he didn't loose you, or hug you in greetings and partings - but very rarely did you cuddle.

"can you tickle my arm?" he mumbles into your shirt, "your nails feel nice."

his request has your spiraling thoughts coming to a halt. his gentle tone and sweet question immediately has you smiling, your body relaxing  into his - "of course," you mumble, raising your hand until your nails can run gently over his arm.

matthew sighs happily, tiny goosebumps prickling on his skin. you smile bigger at the sight just as matthew tucks his head further up your body, the top resting against your collarbone. you let your head fall against his, your eyes trained on the movie.

it's obvious why matthew picked one of your preferred movies as you feel his breathing slow down - looking to see his eyes closed shut and his lips parted to release soft breaths.

matthew just needed his best friend.

although you wish you were his girlfriend coming to his aid - you're just happy matthew feels close enough to you in the relationship you do have.

in his sleep, matthew moans briefly, adjusting his hand so it scoops under your back to cradle you against his body. between his peaceful expression and the warmth of his body laying on yours - you know in that moment it isn't just a crush on you're best friend: you're falling in love with him.

Part Four (A): july 4th weekend

"I hate this," you huff, standing up straight and tossing your hands on your hips.

janie laughs from somewhere on the campsite at your words, but you don't feel like laughing along. you're sweating because of the sweltering arizona heat and you're frustrated from the task at hand.

your tent is only half up, and putting that side up was a challenge. you hear somebody approach you from behind, and you turn to look over your shoulder to see matthew. he drops one of the cooler's at the picnic bench beside your deflated tent and he laughs gently.

you squint at him, "it's not funny. i'm going to have to sleep outside because my tent won't be built."

he tuts his tongue at you, taking one of the long metal rods sticking out of the pile. "you're so dramatic." immediately, he begins to expertly thread the pole through the tents openings. the heat has you feeling flustered, and watching matthew's long fingers navigate the metal wasn't helping...at all.

you scoff, "you love my dramatics, matty, don't pretend it bothers you now."

he doesn't look away from your tent, but he smiles anyways. "yeah yeah, can you grab me another pole? and start bringing the pins over as well - since you're just standing there."

you scrunch your nose up and drop your hands from your hips. "i'll grab you a pole alright."

your grumble has him laughing as you turn on your heels and walk away, gathering the rest of the parts to bring them closer to your tent - which now is beginning to look more functional.

you place them where matthew is working, dropping down to a squat beside his crouched position. he sends you a playful look out of the corner of his eye, "now you want to work?"

you shrug, threading a different pole through the polyester loops. "what kind of friend would I be if I made you do all the work on my tent?"

logan passes with an armful of firewood. he drops the pile of logs into the designated fire pit, already preparing for the night before noon has even hit.

for this fourth of july weekend, you had all decided you wanted to do some sort of camping trip. old fashioned camping - completed with tents and smores and picnic benches. thankfully, there were a couple high rated camp sites around the scottsdale area that had vacancy, and you all had packed two of your cars full for a weekend vacation.

"kniesy, you dick, you're supposed to be putting up our tent - never mind y/n's," logan teases as he passes again, gently nudging his foot against your strained calf - which makes you sway, loosing some of your balance.

"go like set up the grill or something," you tell the blond after you flip him the bird, "before I decide to kill you and throw your body in the lake."

"gruesome," logan says. he does what you suggested though, and you catch a glimpse of him unloading the portable barbecue before you turn back to the tent.

"okay," matthew says, pushing off his knees and into a standing position. "you stay on this side while I pull on the support strings and start to hammer them in- I just need you to keep it straight."

"aye aye captain," you salute, pushing yourself to stand just as he did moments prior.

he chuckles under his breath, moving around to the first side of the tent he needed to secure into the ground.

you watch him work with a soft gaze. the way he kneels in the dirt to ensure he's got the tent pulled in a way it won't collapse - watch as his tongue darts out as he concentrates on nailing in the pins. you're sure there's a look on your face that would warrant questions if somebody caught you - but you don't care.

"is it straight?" matthew asks, eyes glancing up in your direction. he catches you admiring him and you clear your throat, looking away with a few quick blinks.

"yeah! all good," you tell him. matthew just smirks at you before finishing building your tent.

a while later, while the afternoon sun is still beating down on your bare shoulders, april suggests you all head to the water for a quick swim. obviously you agree, quickly changing into your bathing suit.

you're all almost near the mini beach, saved for daniel who opted to stay back and watch over the campsite, when matthew falls into line with you - his bare arm brushing against yours as you walk side by side. his pinky runs along yours discreetly, his much larger finger almost hooking yours.

the sun reflected off his tan and toned body, the light accenting the ripples of his strong muscles: abs, biceps, triceps and everything in between.

"i'll race you," matthew says, breaking the quiet tension that had built between you as you both reach the sandy beach.

you look up at him to find a challenging grin on his face - a teasing sparkle in his bright eyes.

"matty," you start, "we aren't kids - besides, it's busy! all these people we'd have to avoid...." you trail off, gesturing to the crowded beach. "...it's a shame they will all have to watch you loose."

you take off, dropping your tote bag as you make a mad dash towards the water.

you hear matthew laugh loudly behind you, surely already beginning to run in your direction. you weave between the bodies throughout the sand, muttering apologies as you approach the water.

you laugh as you miraculously make it into the warm water, just beating matthew in your foot race because of your (cheating) head start. you slow as you go deeper into the lake, turning your body back around just to watch matthew splash into the lake, his body slowly disappearing under the surface as he follows your trail.

on the shore you see your friends laughing in their own world, setting out towels and the umbrella and their few trinkets - janie with her book and april with her phone. briefly, you wonder if one of them had grabbed your bag from where you abandoned it.

the water ripples against you skin as matthew reaches you, his smile an instant distraction from your tote that you suddenly couldn't care less about in his presence. "you tricked me." he states, hands running through the water, sending more sploshes up your tummy.

you shrug innocently, "did I? or are you just slow..."

he splashes some water at you, wetting your bikini top and shoulders. matthew laughs loudly as you screech from the sudden cold temperature, trying to turn your back on his attack.

"I let you win," matthew says after he splashes you once more.

you turn to face him slowly, still weary of any more water he may send your way. "is that so?" you ask lightly. there's a mischievous grin on your face that matthew knows too well - and his suspicions are confirmed when you begin to splash water back at him, drenching his face and hair.

you giggle as he wipes his face, the same hand sliding up and pushing his dark hair away from his face. the water making his brown locks look even darker. "I let you win and this is how you repay me?"

you shrug again. you don't want to feel chilled, so you drop your shoulders into the water so that your whole body is under the water's cool surface - saved for your neck and head. "yeah - can't think of a better way to show my gratefulness." you tease him.

matthew follows suit and submerges his upper body in the lake. he moves impossibly closer to your body - the water providing a privacy in the public setting. with that in mind, he reaches for you, grabbing your leg to gently drag you through the last bit of water left between your bodies.

you gulp nervously as your leg rest's on him. he doesn't let you go, holding your thigh against his hip while your other leg slips between his own two. you can't find the strength to look away from his gaze - not even concerned if you're friends are eyeing you two suspiciously.

"I can think of a way you can show your gratefulness." matthew whispers, hand moving up your thigh in the water until he reaches your bikini bottoms, fingers moving along your ass cheek and slightly slipping beneath the edge of your bathing suit.

"matty..." you breath. his chest heaves with air as he stares down at you - your cheeks slightly sunburnt to give you a permanent sun kissed glow. your lips plump and pink, dark eyelashes wet and making your eyes look even bigger as you blink prettily up at him.

you hear janie and logan laugh as they get into the water, only a few meters away from your and matthew's intertwined bodies. it has you coming to reality, pushing away from matthew to create an appropriate amount of space between you all while trying to appear nonchalant.

logan was too busy trying to sneak attack you to dunk your head under to notice the tension between you and matthew - janie distracted by logan. your and matthew's touching flying under the radar once again.

after a little more swimming and trying to cool your body down from your sensual encounter with matthew - you all decide to lay in the sun for a little bit longer before heading back to the campsite: saving daniel from his lonesome.

daniel has just got the fire started when you all get back from the beach: the warmth of the flames sooth your chilled damp skin. regardless of the warmth, you slip into your tent to grab a hoodie to further keep you from feeling cold.

logan and matthew had just started the grill when you emerge back outside. logan was preparing the frozen patties for cooking, while matthew was cleaning the grill's top with the metal bristled brush - his biceps flexing with each movement on the bars.

"hey, y/n, wanna help me with the salad?" janie asks from the picnic table. her voice has you quickly looking away from your friends arms and over to her - janie eyeing you playfully as she chops through some cherry tomatoes.

"yeah," you hum, taking a seat across from her. you can feel her still giving you that teasing look, so you busy yourself with slicing through the sticks of celery - cubing them because you know matthew prefers them that way - to avoid her gaze.

a moment later, you hear the brunette sigh, tossing her tomatos and shredded leaves into the red serving bowl. "so," she begins, "what were you and matthew talking about."

you eye her, but she has moved her attention to crumbling feta.

janie continues, "in the laker earlier. it seemed..." she pauses, squinting in thought as she tried to think of her wording - "intense." she settles on, feta clinging to her fingers.

you hum nonchalantly, scooping the cubed celery into your palms and dropping it into the salad. "did it?"

she nods suspiciously, "yeah, and i've been thinking about how the past few years something between you two has seemed rather intense - since college. what's up with that?"

she is talking relatively quiet, but you still glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody is listening - the three boys are laughing around the grill, completely oblivious.

when you meet your friends eyes again, she quirks an eyebrow in your direction knowingly. janie is looking at you like she knows you're deepest darkest secret - not just about the casual hookups between you, but also your feelings for matthew.

you should've known janie would figure it out sooner or later. when you moved to arizona and started at the new highschool, not only had you become close with matthew, but you had become just as close with janie. you were instantly drawn to her bubbly personality and confidence - she was your best girl friend. if you weren't with matthew - you were with the small brunette girl.

as she looks at you, she's not even working on cutting up vegetables for the salad - her full attention is on you.

you don't feel like hiding anymore. "janie," you sigh sadly, hands dropping the knife so you can cover your cheeks, "I have to tell you something."

she huffs happily, leaning further over the picnic table. "spill."

then, quietly and with a much detail as you can manage, you tell your friend everything. you start with when you realized you had feelings for matthew in freshman year and when the crush turned into love. you tell janie about your and matthew's pact about loosing your virginities and then turning 18 and having sex for the first time - about how your relationship turned into one with benefits and how you were still falling deeper in love with matthew.

she listenes intently, every so often making sure the guys are busy and not eavesdropping on your private confession - which you were thankful for as you were way too distracted with your own beating heart to notice if there were prying ears.

when you finish, ending on your brief conversation in the lake that afternoon, janie smiles at you softly. "I had a feeling there was something going on - but I didn't realize you were in love with him."

"really?" you laugh in disbelief, "I thought I was being obvious at times."

she hums in thought, mixing the dressing into the fresh salad. "if anything, I thought it was the other way around. like if it was matthew here telling me he loved you - I wouldn't be suprised."

her words are similar to a punch in the gut, but instead of pain it's a wave of hopefulness and excitement. "what?" you question gently, "what do you mean?"

she laughs gently, "this whole time I thought that he's had a secret crush on you. he's been so touchy with you, and he's always looking at you all cute and blah," she says, "it makes sense now - you've been hooking up."

and now it feels like a punch, you think. matthew was only looking at you and teasing you and touching you in a way that could be construed as being in love because he knew you'd give him sex. and like you've already comes to terms with that - you're okay with that. you love matthew, of course, not just romantically but as your best friend. so as long as he was happy with your arrangement, and still felt comfortable telling you everything and anything like you two have always done - you were happy.

"you're right with that," you tell janie. you reach into the cooler pulled open on the picnic bench, cracking open a white claw to take a gulp. "but seriously, i'm fine with this. i'm used to the unrequited love thing with him, trust me."

she gives you one more smile, "okay, as long as you're okay then i'm okay."

"care for some meat in your buns?" logan says loudly, approaching the picnic bench with a paper plate loaded with burgers. matthew and daniel follow behind him, both laughing like little kids at their friend's attempt at a dirty joke.

"don't be gross," janie stands, grabbing the plate to set it next to the condiments on the other side of the salad and cooler.

you watch as daniel thanks his girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek, making janie smile brightly as she opens the bun bag.

you're hit with a momentary wave of longing as you watch your friend so happy with the man she loves, and you wish it was like that with you and matthew - despite knowing he would never want that with you.

logan, ever the flirt, kisses your cheek loudly and then rounds to the other side of the wooden bench to give janie the same one. "thanks for the salad ladies, love you both." he plops down beside daniel and starts to load his plate with some macoroni salad.

you laugh gently while daniel starts playfully yelling at logan about kissing his girlfriend. subconsciously, you use your shoulder to wipe the cheek your friend had smooched.

matthew sits down next to you, definitely too close for just friends. now that janie knows though, you don't feel to worried about the proximity, letting his leg push up against yours underneath the table.

"you want a burger?" matthew asks you, his hand circling on your lower back.

you nod, "yeah, thanks. just one."

he reaches down the table towards the end farthest away, grabbing your burger and two for himself - he even dresses yours exactly how you love it, which obviously has you smiling. in thanks, you serve him his salads - matthew too distracted with devouring his first burger to serve himself them.

matthew acknowledges your act of service with his calf wrapping around the front of your shin, pulling your leg to rest between his own under the table. and then when he smiles at you all cheesy between bites of his food - you don't even get disgusted, only feeling fuzzy and tingly all over.

you chug the rest of your white claw.

-

"when do you think the fireworks will start?" logan grunts across the bonfire, shoving a marshmallow on his stick roughly. "it's dark as shit."

janie shushes him and tells him not to swear - a couple little kids laugh in the distance to prove her point.

"soon," you tell him, twisting your metal stick that holds your marshmallow over the flames. the gooey ball slowly turning brown and crispy as you spin it. "patience is key, logan."

"yeah, well, my patience is running thin." logan chimes, pushing his own stick into the fire.

matthew laughs beside you, "you don't have patience to begin with."

the blonde scoffs, "y/n, tell the peanut gallery to quiet down."

you and matthew giggle quietly to each other at your friends annoyance. you let your arm bump into his bicep on your shared bench, head briefly resting against his shoulder as you laugh.

your marshmallow catches fire, and you smile victoriously. you pull it out from the bonfire and up to your mouth. the flame from the treat is hot on your face, but you blow it out quickly, leaving you with a melted and charred marshmallow. "alright, matty, i'm ready for the sandwich."

matthew praises your perfectly burnt marshmallow. "yes ma'am," he teases. you watch as he brings his arms up, a graham cracker with a square of chocolate in each hand, clutched between his fingers. you watch as he smooshes the marshmallow between the crackers, smoothly pulling the gooey sticky treat off the stick.

he smiles, "and there you go," matthew hands you the campfire treat, "take a bite of that and tell me it's not the perfectly crafted s'more."

he had been going on about his double deckered s'more since the drive to the campsite - claiming nobody could make the desert as good as he could. you had teased him relentlessly all afternoon about it, so once the fire had gotten started, matthew was quick to get the s'more kit out.

you send him a look, grabbing the s'more and taking a big bite. you feel the marshmallow goo smear onto your lips, graham cracker crumbling to the ground. you chew delicately, matthew watching you the entire time.

you swallow, "it's good."

"just good?" he repeats, eyes widening.

your use your free hand to wipe your mouth, "the best part was the marshmallow - which i contributed. just tasted like a normal s'more with extra chocolate."

he scoffs in disbelief, "which is the best part!"

you scrunch your nose, licking some smeared chocolate from your thumb. "the marshmallow is the best, actually."

he rolls his eyes playfully, "fine." then he dips his head down, taking the rest of your s'more between his teeth and right out of your hand.

you screech, "you better make me another one."

he shakes his head and swallows, "no you didn't like it." he faux's annoyance, turning his face away from you.

"oh my god," you huff.

"can you make me one of your s'mores?" daniel asks from across the small bonfire, leaning forward on his camping chair to catch matthew's eyes.

matthew sighs, "what's the point...my best friend doesn't even like them."

you laugh at his fake huffy tone, "I didn't say I didn't like them!"

he turns back to you, "didn't have to."

you laugh again loudly, and at the sound matthew finally cracks a smile. he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. "i'm teasing you," you whispers into your hairline.

"had no idea," you tell him playfully, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. he smirks down at you - one his his hands coming up to your mouth, where he thumbs the missed marshmallow off your lip.

you swallow nervously but continue to look up at him - the sound of your friends laughter and obliviousness to you and matthew fading into the background.

the squeal of a firework has you looking away just in time for the boom to sound throughout the campsite, sparks of red and blue lighting up the sky in the distance.

"fuck yeah," logan cheers, jumping up from his seat, claiming he gets a better viewing angle if he stands.

janie follows suit, phone out to get pictures and videos of the firework show - daniel at her side as all there backs are now turned to the forgotten flames of the bonfire.

as you watch the beautiful lights, you feel matthew squeeze around your shoulders tighter and then he presses a long kiss to the corner of your mouth.

-

you're one of the last ones sitting by the dying fire, your body flushed with the heat and alcohol. still sitting beside you, matthew laughs deeply at something logan says - his shoulder rubs against yours at the movement. you're also laughing at logan's slurred attempt at a joke, and you shush them gently through your giggles.

logan moves to stand, his lean body swaying slightly as his arms reach up over his head in a long stretch. "should probably head to sleep anyways."

"me too." you nod in agreement, "janie will have us all up before 7 for that hike she's been taking about."

both matthew and logan groan at the thought, heads dropping backwards in protest. you roll your eyes but smile, although you're also not looking forward to the early wake up call, the hiking trail looked beautiful and you were looking forward to the scenery - clearly, the boys couldn't care less.

"alright, kniesy, you want the blue sleeping bag or the green one?" logan teases, his fingers working against the zipper of the tent as he glances over his shoulder at you both.

matthew shrugs nonchalantly. he puts out the last tiny gathering of flames in the pit with a jug of lake water. "i'm not sharing with you. i'll share with y/n...she smells better."

his words make you blush. you turn away and busy yourself with cleaning up the collection of alcohol cans littered around the small campsite - tossing them in one of the empty coolers for disposal in the morning.

"dick." logan scoffs playfully, "I wear dior but suit yourself." logan doesn't protest any further, and clambers into his form of shelter, zipping up the tent's entrance behind him - leaving you alone.

you can hear matthew pick up some beer bottles, the glass clanking together in his hands. he clears his throat, "is that okay?"

you hum lightly with question. you don't turn to look at him, too worried about the reaction your body might have now that you're finally alone with matthew after a day of tension.

"that we share a tent? is that okay?" matthew walks up behind you, and he reaches to grab the can in your hand.

you finally meet his eyes as you look back at him. "course it's okay," you say gently. with your hands now free, they itch to reach out and run over his torso, pull him into you and kiss him roughly right there.

"i've got these if you want to head into bed." matthew tells you quietly, tossing more cans into the cooler.

you blink three times, and you swallow with a quick nod. "okay." you start making towards the direction of now your and matthew's shared tent, listening as matthew cleans up the picnic table. you pause, looking over you shoulder.

as if matthew can feel your stare, he glances back at you. he raises his brows with a smirk at your face - clearly on the verge of saying something. before you can talk yourself out of it, you smile teasingly. "i'll make sure I smell real good for you."

matthew grins, straightening his posture as he finishes cleaning the table he'd been hunched over. under the glow of the stars, you can see matthew's face flush at your comment, and knowing your words had affected him in some way have you blushing.

matthew clears his throat, "looking forward to it."

your blush deepens.

you take two steps backward until you feel the polyester entrance of the tent. matthew sends one more seductive smirk in your direction before you spin around, climbing into your tent in an attempt to calm yourself down.

you can hear matthew tidying up the plastic garbage bags while you take a few deep breaths, pressing a hand to your warm forehead in an attempt to stay grounded. your stomach flutters at the mere thought of matthew coming into the tent with you, never mind the ideas that flood your head of what will happen when you two will finally be alone.

you exhale, kicking your sandals off to the side so you don't trek any dirt into the sleeping area. you had already pumped up the air mattress in preparation for sleep. sleeping bags had always made you claustrophobic: so you avoided them.

quickly, you start fluffing the bedding and shoving your things around until it looks somewhat organized. you're not sure why you feeling so nervous, but there's something about what's been brewing that has your chest tightening and mouth drying. maybe it was because you two were technically in public and not alone - or possibly because you hadn't had sex in a few weeks. either way, the thought of matthew had you trembling.

just as you flick the small portable lamp on and the inside of the tent becomes illuminated with a dim glow, you can hear matthew begin to tug on the tent's zipper - he struggles a few times, no doubt from the combination the alcohol and the darkness of the late night.

"fuck me," matthew mutters as he finally steps in. the sound of his voice sends your heart racing, and you smile gently to try and seem calm. the flashlight is shining from his phone and through his front hoodie pocket - he must've just slipped it in there as he entered. "stupid zipper."

you clear your throat, "maybe it's not the zipper that's stupid..." you trail of teasingly, grabbing onto your duffle bag to lug it on top the mattress.

matthew laughs, raising his brows in your direction. "you're just such a bully today."

you purse your lips, digging through your belongings until you find your lemon printed pyjama set. "you're still bitter because I won the race -"

"by cheating," he reminds you cheekily. matthew must've made a trip to his car after putting the garbage in logan's truck bed, because you see his overnight bag on his arm. he drops it near the foot of the bed with a thud.

"by being smart." you correct him with a hum.

matthew drops down to the mattress beside you, the velvet material puffing under his weight - the movement sends you into his side. now that you're closer, he reaches out slowly, tucking some of your fallen hair behind your ear.

you grip onto your pyjamas to keep yourself present as matthew's eyes bore into yours - a little hazy from the alcohol but they're still the most beautiful eyes you've seen.

his hand moves back, thick fingers threading through strands of hair so he can hold the side of your head, his thumb stroking along your scalp behind your ear.

you think you may have a heart attack. the combination of his intense lustful gaze and his hands on your skin has you squirming.

"you've always been so smart," matthew continues quietly, and his breath tickles against your red cheeks. "expect for s'more knowledge - you're not too smart in that department."

you click your tongue, gently pushing against his peck in protest. "you're such a little shit."

matthew grabs you, his warm palm wrapping around your wrist so you're unable to pull your hand away from his chest. "I miss you," he tells you through an exhale, his finger stroking along the pulspoint on your wrist.

you hope he can't feel how fast your heart is beating. you swallow gently, and your free hand slides up his leg, resting right against the thick muscle above his knee. "i'm right here," you whisper.

matthew nods once, "I know."

the tone of his words seems off, but he doesn't leave you room to question it. matthew leans in, mouth capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. the little moments of tension throughout the day had finally spilled over as his lips slide against yours.

all nerves you'd been feeling disappear at the familiarity of his kiss and you sigh into his mouth pleasantly. slowly, your hand slips up towards his face. matthew allows you to move, releasing his grip on your wrist so you can cradle his jawline with both of your hands.

with his now free hand, matthew grabs onto your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he begins to guide your body backwards - slowly, as if not startle you or rush you.

matthew keeps your lips connected until your back hits the rubber mattress, continuing his delicious assault on your mouth as you fall into a horizontal position. the air mattress squeaks and puffs under the change in position - typically a comical sound, but with the way matthew's lips trial down your jaw and continue down to your jugular, you don't find it humorous. you're too distracted from the wet kisses on your skin and the weight of his body on yours.

matthew pauses where your neck meets your collarbone, nipping at your sunkissed skin before soothing the sting out with his tongue, licking a flat strip over every bite. the feeling has you panting quietly, your hands raking through his thick brown locks. he sucks on to your sweet spot, right in the pit of your collarbone, and your grip tightens - illiciting a moan from matthew.

"lift your hips for me, baby," his command is whispered against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss there, which sends a shiver through your body.

you do as he requested, lifting your lower half off the bed. you core bumps against his crotch, matthew's semi bumping your bundle of nerves perfectly - the contact sends a moan tumbling past your puffy lips.

matthew hisses, "fuck can't do that baby - feels too good." he pushes off your body, leaning back to rest against his heels.

your smirk, thrusting your hips into the air involuntarily - searching for the friction he had provided just moments before.

matthew reaches towards you, hands landing on your hip bones. he curses, two of his fingers hooking the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down in one rough pull.

instinctively, your legs fall open wider, exposing your bare core further for matthew. your body was clearly ready for whatever was to come next - you feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought.

the dim light catches you, and matthew smirks at the sight your pussy glistening with arousal. "fuck," he curses again. two of his thick fingers slide through your folds, playing and gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit. "already so wet for me."

you whine, "please, matty - don't tease. I need you so bad." his fingers prode at your dripping entrance and you sigh pleasantly, tugging your lip between your teeth as you watch him move. matthew slips a finger inside and your back arches off the mattress, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"feel good, baby?" he question, pumping into you lazily - hitting all the right places and nerves that could have you coming in seconds.

you moan again, "I need you inside me."

"yeah, okay," matthew breaths, pulling his fingers from your entrance with a squelch. he makes you suck your arousal off his digits - watching you blissfully and mouth hung open as your tongue swirls along his fingers.

matthew stands up, quickly shoving his pants down his thick thighs. he's left naked from the waist down, only left in his maroon hoodie.

the sight of that has you giggling, biting on your thumb to try and contain your wave of laughter.

matthew laughs as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head in one swift motion - leaving him bare in the privacy of your tent. any and all previous laughter comes to a halt, and you admire his naked form shamelessly. he's always been so sexy, you think. with a broad strong chest and defined abs, accompanied by his thick arms and legs - he was the epitome of perfect.

"fuck," you swear, "come back here."

he listens to you request, naked body soon hovering over you. "shit," matthew curses gently after a quick press to your lips. "I don't have condoms." he tells you, pushing himself further above you with one arm. affectionately, his other hand strokes the hair away from your face.

you shake your head and bring your lower lip into your mouth again - knawing on the swollen skin. "I don't care," you admit to him quitley.

matthew's face lights up, and his brows raise in a silent question. "you sure?"

you shrug with a small smile, "I mean, I haven't like been with anyone in awhile- and i'm clean...if you're-"

"i'm clean," he interrupts you gently.

you stomach swoops with a mix of nervousness and excitement. the lips you had once been knawing at is released with a quiet pop - a wide grin breaking out on your face.

matthew takes the bruised coloured lip between his, licking the skin before bringing you into another kiss. your lips crash together passionately, brushing over one another in a way that makes your body feel like it's on fire. your heart is palpating in your chest when matthew's hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body until it reaches your bare hipbone.

his warm hands slides up, pushing your hoodie towards your chest with his fingers. he breaks the kiss momentarily, matthew's chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath. "arch your back for me."

"m'kay," you hum, lifting your lower back offthe mattress. with the space under you, matthew pulls your hoodie off your torso, pulling it over you head and throwing it towards your duffle bag that had been pushed off the bed - sitting upside down on the polyester floor.

now left in only a yellow printed bikini top, nipples pebbled underneath the thin damp material. matthew's tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and he rips away the cups from your breasts, revealing you completely. "fuck, you're so pretty." he mumbles.

"matty, please fuck me." you whimper, hooking your leg around the curve of his hip, locking yourself in place against him. you tug him down gently, his hard on bumping your bare core roughly.

you moan in unison at the friction. matthew answers you by gripping his throbbing dick in his fist and he pumps himself a few times, readying himself for your warmth. he lines the tip of himself with your hole, gently sliding his head through your dripping wet folds - bumping your clit until your whining.

"matty," you whine. "please."

his head slides into you, slowly, your pussy pulling him in naturally. the full feeling was so beautifully overwhelming, and you push your head further into the pillow under you, mouth falling open in pleasure.

you mewl at his dick filling you, "so much," you mumble, hands blindly finding the edge of your pillow case until you can grip onto it - grounding yourself. "always so much."

"shh... just a little bit more, baby," matthew soothes you, his hand coming up from between your bodies to untangle your hand from the pillow. he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing his hand in yours as he slides into you fully.

"oh my- shit," you curse, eyes darting down as matthew begins to thrust into your pussy. your free hand shoots up to hold onto his thick shoulder, keeping yourself in place as the pace begins to pick up.

"god, you feel so fucking good." he moans, leaning down so his lips capture yours. the kiss is more heavy breathing and exploring tongues than anything else, but it all feels too damn good to care.

matthew breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours. his hips and dick continuing to thrust into you at the speed and pressure you love so much.

in that moment, you think how easy it would be for you to tell him you love him. the way he keeps his eyes trained on your face, or the way he touches you so delicately - it's almost impossible to not to slip up and say something. his skilled kisses and forceful thrusts into you, it's all too much.

"you okay, baby?" he huffs, eyes locking on yours as he continues thrusting.

you nod, pushing your lips on his once more. your stomach tingles when matthew immediately kisses you back. he untangles your intertwined hands in favour of reaching between your bodies again, thumbing your sensitive clit.

you moan loudly, "fuck, keep doing that." he silences your noises with a quick peck, continuing the double stimulation on your pussy.

in the three years of having casual sex with matthew, he has come to know your body very well - including when you're going to finish. he feels the way your walls begin to clamp down on his dick, as is if you were trying to pull him deeper into you. your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails no doubt leaving creasing shaped indents on his tan skin.

matthew watches the way your face changes, an intense blissful expression taking over.

"i'm gunna..."

"I know, fuck, cum on my dick." he grunts between thrusts.

the coil in your stomach snaps at his command, and you release on him - your juices flowing from your weeping hole and wetting his lower region.

with three more hard thrusts, matthew moans, pushing into you as he finishes. you feel his cum coat your insides, thick ropes of semen spilling from his head and covering your sticky walls.

matthew grabs a hold of your hip, gently pushing down as he slowly pulls himself out of you. "shit," he curses, watching the way his cum drips from you, pooling against your ass and spilling onto the mattress. "you okay, y/n/n?"

you nod tiredly with a faint smile on your puffy lips, pushing up onto your elbows. "i'm okay," you confirm. "can you get me my pyjamas? I think I threw them on the floor earlier."

matthew laughs gently, "yeah." he crawls off your body, and you admire his naked ass as he walks over to the opposite of the bed to your tipped bag. he picks up your lemon set, tossing them at you gently. "you don't want to naked cuddle?"

you giggle, pulling on your top and buttoning it together. "janie will be in here early - can't have her seeing us naked."

he shrugs, pulling his boxer briefs back up his legs. "nothing wrong with a bit of nakedness."

you squawk, "maybe I don't want her to see you naked."

matthew brings his bottom lip between his teeth, smirking down at you as you pull your shorts on. "why? you'd be jealous?"

"more like embarrassed," you tease.

"hey!" he laughs, crawling back over your body to capture your laughing mouth in another kiss.

Part Four (B):

the summer breeze blows your sundress against your knees, the soft fabric tickling your legs. you sway with the warm air, eyes dancing over the busy park as you wait for matthew to return.

you watch him make his way over, a bright smile on his face as he weaves through walking adults and hyper kids. the sight has you breaking out into a grin, your previously crossed arms falling to your sides just as he reaches you. "and one strawberry ice cream cone for you, my majesty."

"why thank you, kind sir," you tease with a light giggle, taking the cone from his outstretched hand. you waste no more time, and lick a long stripe up the sweet strawberry ice cream, moaning gently as the cold cream melts over your tastebuds.

matthew snorts at the sound, his own tongue wrapping around his cone—chocolate, because h claims it’s the best. "yummy?"

you let out a half mumble, half hum for an answer, mouth preoccupied with licking ice cream for a proper response.

matthew’s smile grows at the sound, licking some more chocolate desert off his cone. he grabs your hand in his much warmer palm, interlocking your fingers together as you continue to stroll further into the arizona park.

the bright sun shines over the area, illuminating the vibrant leaves on the trees and the colourful flower beds that sat at every stump and bush. the scene is so relaxing and peaceful, like something from a painting. your eyes dart back to matthew.

matthew has always looked so amazing in the summer, you think. his hair becomes lighter, and he always bulks back up from the end of season weight loss. you watch as his muscles contract under his white shirt, and the sight has your mouth watering. you distract yourself by eating some more of your sweet treat.

"you good over there?" he squeezes your hand, "do you regret your flavour choice? do want some chocolate ice cream?"

"I’m good," you dismiss, looking away from his intense gaze. but then you double back, eyes darting between his and his dripping chocolate cone. "I do want some though - give me a lick." you steady his wrist, making him snicker.

after you feel you’ve tasted enough, you pull away with a smile, pleased as you lick the lingering chocolate off your plump lips.

almost instantly, matthew is eyeing you again "you sure everything is okay? you looked pretty lost in your head for a minute there—starting off into space like a weirdo.”

"i’m not a weirdo!" you snort.

"y/n." he deadpans.

you moan gently, head falling to matthew's bicep. "okay, fine—I was just thinking that you look nice. hope you’re happy now."

a fond smile makes its way onto his face, "you're such a loser—my classic sappy y/n."

"hey," you scoff, pulling away from matthew's touch. "don't be a jerk- I take it back now.”

"I was only joking and teasing you," he chimes, hands reaching back out for you before you get too far, "come back here." matthew successfully grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back into his space. he tucks you even further into his side than you were before, which only heats your skin further.

you pout largely and mumble distractingly, "yeah, you better be."

matthew laughs breathily at your exaggerated facial expression, and he brushes his lips against your sweaty hairline as a wordless apology. but you’re not actually mad—you’re not sure if you could ever truly be mad with matthew.

you walk in silence for a few minutes, taking in the busy park while you and matthew finish off your respective ice cream cones. it's moments like this that you cherish so much with matthew—the moments of complete silence, where the two of your just enjoy each others presence without words. one of the reasons you love matthew so much is because how comfortable he makes you, no matter where you are or what you're doing.

eventually, you take a deep inhale, breaking the silence between you. "thanks for the ice cream, matty. and for bringing me here. god, don’t think we’ve been here since we were kids.”

he squeezes your shoulders, "of course. I feel like we haven't spent time together in fucking forever. which is just ridiculous because you’re my favourite person to be with."

you smirk teasingly, gazing up at him with a mischievous glint. "look who's the sappy loser now." you nudge your elbow deeper into his side, and then wrap that arm around his waist so he can't pull away from you.

"oh okay," matthew sighs, "I see how it is."

"i'm teasing," you sing song, laughing gently. your free hand comes up to grab his fingers on the hand that was dangling of your sundress covered shoulders. "dish it but can't take it, matty?"

matthew slows in his steps, making you both come to a gradual stop. he grabs your waist, spinning your body to completely face his as you stand still in the middle of the park. "you're impossible, y/n/n." matthew says with a grin. he takes one hand and reaches for your face, your warm summer flush being covered by his palm.

"shut up," you say through a smile, "you're the impossible one."

"mhm," matthew hums quietly, thumb stroking along your cheek bone as he holds you. you watch the way his eyes move over your face gently, staring at all your freckles and moles, down to your lips and back up to your bright eyes. matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, his fond expression indicating he didn't really hear what you said - too distanced by....you.

you swallow gently, your own eyes never once straying from his face as he studies you. you feel unbearably warm under his gaze, heat bubbling in your blood in the best possible way.

matthew's right hand comes up to brush against the other side of your face, holding you between his large palms. on instinct, you touch his hips, your delicate fingers dusting along the linen fabric of his shirt.

he finds your eyes once more, holding your gaze for a long moment. that fond look had yet to disappear, and if anything it become more prevalent when your eyes locked.

you think you might gasp, or swear or pass out - you're not sure, but your head is spinning with love and happiness under matthew's stare.

you're not sure if you should say anything. you think of maybe asking him if he's okay, but your words die on your tongue when matthew licks his lips again, wetting the plump skin in a way that makes them even more desirable.

a beat passes, and then matthew finally closes the gap between you and captures your lips in his. the pressure is comforting and the way he sucks your top lip into his mouth expertly had your knees feeling weak - gripping onto his waist to keep yourself upright.

the kiss doesn't last long enough before matthew is pulling away - mindful of the busy public setting and the people bustling around the park. you sigh at the loss of contact, and at the sound of your disappointment matthew leans back in, stealing one more chaste kiss.

"you taste like vanilla," matthew says cheekily, he's still holding your face, keeping you close in his space.

you scrunch your nose up, the skin crinkling in the middle of of your face. matthew smiles at the sight. slowly, he releases your face, hands coming down to interlock your fingers once again - tugging on your hand as he begins to walk again.

"you taste like dusty waffle cone." you say, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

matthew chuckles, "you love my dusty waffle cone." he swings your intertwined hands between your bodies, his knuckles brushing the soft material of your sundress with every pass.

you take a long breath in, smiling gently - the scent of peonies and roses invading your senses pleasantly. you look towards matthew and find him already smiling at you.

you shrug at his statement, "I prefer sweet."

his smiles widens, "good thing i'm sweet enough without the ice cream then, huh?"

matthew's teasing has you blushing all the way to your chest and up your ears, nibbling on your lip in an attempt to contain your grin. "good thing."

matthew's smile softens slightly, but the look of amusement never leaves his eyes. he tugs your arm, "c'mon," he says, "let's go get food and then head home - i've been having an urge to binge american pie."

"deal," you smile, "but only if we get pizza."

matthew groans in agreement, "you've got a deal."

Part Four (C): halloween, sophomore year UNI

"whoops," you mumble, arms held out to regain your shaky balance after almost falling over. normally you'd blame your stumbling on the uneven concrete outside your residence building, but the margarita's pumping through your blood were definitely the reason tonight.

"careful," matthew laughs, a strong arm reaching out to grasp on to your waist. one of your devil wings stabs into his ribs, but because of his own alcohol intake, matthew doesn't seem to feel it. "did you want me to come up with you?"

you hum with contemplation, slowing in your steps as you approach the glass doors of residence. "think i'll be okay..." you smirk, spinning in his arms so fast it makes you momentarily dizzy. "unless you want to fuck."

matthew laughs, "we are both too drunk." he's almost suprised at his own common sense - even furrows his brows after he finishes the scentence.

"you're right," it's a sigh from your lips, and you fall forward into his chest, arm circling around his waist over the angel costume. "at least a kiss before I go?"

matthew smirks at your pouty face, your chin pressed between his pecks as you stare up at him. wordlessly, he grabs a hold of your face and kisses you.

the kiss is a little messy, and the flavours of your respective drinks mix between your shared silvia. regardless, it still has your blood pumping in your ears and matthew grinning against your mouth - both of you too drunk to care.

when he pulls away, his eyes are droopy with sleep and lust. "y/n/n," he whispers, "can I tell you something."

"always," you slur.

he brushes over the top of your head, smoothing your frizzy curls. "I purposely rejected girls last year so that i'd loose my virginity to you....because I only wanted it to be you. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

too drunk to disect his words, you smile clueless, pressing a chaste kiss to the palm of his hand. "I wanted it to be you too."

matthew, who is also too drunk to take in your words or understand his own, smiles cheekily. "wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow?"

you gasp, "yes!"

the next afternoon when you both wake up, neither of you get frozen yogurt because neither of you remember the conversation.

Part Five:

something has definitely changed between you and matthew. maybe it was just in your head, but ever since the kiss you shared in the park a few week prior, there has been a shift between you.

touches lingered longer, eyes swam with newfound confidence and when he would kiss you, he would do it just for the purpose of kissing. it wouldn't lead to sex or a heated make out, matthew would simply just kiss you hello and goodbye or after a teasing remark.

and sure, it's not that matthew would only kiss you when he wanted sex before that - but it was never for no reason. the park kiss was the first time you felt loved by matthew and when he kissed you because he just felt like it.

you think maybe there's a possibility something was blooming between you. a small chance that matthew had feelings for you - that he loved you.

"hey," matthew whispers, hand squeezing your thigh to grab your attention. "you okay?"

you blink, looking away from the tiny airplane window and over to your friend. you nod, "i'm okay," matthew's eyes scan your features quickly, but you catch his worried eyes - sending a reassuring smile. "just trying to remember if I packed my toothbrush." you lie easily.

matthew seems to buy it, laughing gently into your shoulder. "if you did, i'll buy you a new one."

you smile, and your arms snake around his bicep in a hug. "better be one of those expensive electric ones if that's the case." you tease quietly. matthew laughs again, his arm flexing under your hands.

"anything you want."

only a week after your ice cream date in the park, matthew had asked if you wanted to come with him to toronto for a week. he said that around august every year, the guys started to get back into the groove of things, so he was thinking of heading back for a brief visit before moving back for the season.

when you asked why he wanted you to come, he said he wanted his favourite person to meet his toronto family, which obviously sent you into a loving spiral. it was enough for you to agree, packing your bags and accompanying your best friend to canada a week later.

you find yourself turning to look out the window once again, the CN tower looking back at you from a few miles in the distance. a wave of excitement floods you, and your turn back to matthew.

"i'm excited to meet everyone," you admit. one of your hands move from his arm to grab his hand that was on your leg, palm coming down on the top of his hand. "can't wait for them to tell me how much of pest you are in the locker room."

he scoffs playfully, "the only reason you want to see everyone is so that you can talk shit?... I should've known better."

you laugh, hiding your face in matthew's broad shoulder. he smiles at the sound, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile into his shirt at the feeling, letting your brain run wild with feelings.

"are you sure it's okay that i'm staying with you?"

"course," matthew hums, "john and aryne are so excited to meet you. aryne has already said how stoked she is to have a girl in the house for a week."

that has you grinning, squeezing his hand happily. "I can't believe i'm going to meet an nhl superstar," you whisper giddy.

matthew quirks a brow, "you've met me. I thought I was an nhl superstar?"

"you'll still be my favourite," you trail off, tilting your head up so brush your lips against his, giving matthew a chaste kiss.

'attention passengers, we will be making our descend to toronto pearson international airport now - please ensure you remain seated and keep your seatbelts buckled until landing."

matthew pulls away from your kiss, giving your thigh another assuring squeeze.

—

"no way!" you grin, your knife slowing is it cuts through your piece of saucy chicken, "what did you do?" you asked amused, stabbing your food before bringing it to your mouth.

aryne tavares swallows her mouthful of water, placing the glass down gently. "well, I panicked for sure! I ushered axton to go with steph, and handed the baby to jake's wife. then I ran after jace! he sure is small but god did his small legs outrun me."

you laugh lightly, slowly chewing your piece of chicken before swallowing. "that's sweet though, regardless."

"I know," she smiles sweetly, eating some of her own honey garlic seasoned meat.

beside you, matthew laughs as well, shoving another mouthful of rice in his mouth. "he made me ride home with them because he was worried - held my hand the whole time." he tells you between chews of his food.

you coo, forking some of your crispy potatoes.

aryne and john tavares had picked you up from the pearson airport terminal, and they greeted you like you were apart of their family and have known you for years. immediately, you felt welcomed by the tavares', all of you falling into comfortable conversation on the drive to their home.

you and aryne had cooked dinner together, laughing and talking like the two of you had done it many times before - making a delicious honey garlic glazed chicken with whole grain rice and crisp baby potatoes.

as you all sat down to eat, john and aryne wasted no time jumping into stories about matthew and his first few months in the NHL - including the most recent one that aryne had been sharing: when matthew got his concussion and their son, Jace, had ran through the arena to make sure matthew was okay.

"didn't stop him from whacking me with a mini stick the next morning," matthew teases after your fond coo.

you all laugh gently, not wanting to wake any of the kids from where they slept upstairs - wiped out from spending the day at their grandparents.

"I love that story," you admit fondly, finishing off your portion of perfectly seasoned rice.

"matthew said you would," john muses, sending your friend a knowing glance through his thick dark lashes, a smirk beginning to tug on the captain's mouth.

"did he now?" you tease in matthew's direction, further contributing to the blush rising on matthew's warm face. he chuckles gently, eyes trained on his empty dinner plate to  avoid his captains tease and your soft gaze.

"he talks about you all the time," john continues to tease, laughing as his younger teammate splutters with embarrassment. "think I know more about you than I do about matthew."

aryne scolds her husband with a smile, smacking his arm gently.

"all good things I hope?" you question gently, a hopeful smile tugging your lips upwards as you look around.

matthew clears his throat quickly. "always" he tells you, rubbing along the top of your thigh, his warm palm tickling your exposed skin underneath the dining room table.

you blush, clearing your throat before taking a healthy sip of your water.

—

the weight of matthew's body on top of yours is foolproof. although his full weight isn't on you, the heat of his skin has you feeling amazing.

the spare bedroom popcorn ceiling of the tavares house is staring down at you, bright white and crisp. the room still smells like matthew - like he never left his home in toronto. his clothes still in the closet, and his cologne and old spice deodorant on the dresser.

a smile breaks out on your face at the sight and thought of matthew being so comfortable and happy in toronto, your eyes darting to his as he looks down at you - his own grin playing at his lips.

"I can believe i'm in your room."

his brows pull together ever so slightly, his lips tugging further upwards. "you've seen this room before."

"yeah," you sigh, "but only on facetime. this is different - I love it."

matthew laughs gently, face dipping down to hide in the crook of your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and the tip of his nose nudges against your pulse point. matthew presses his lips on your sweet spot, but instead of kissing you, he blows a raspberry. the feeling has you squirming, a tiny squeal falling form your lips as you laugh - trying to escape the tickle sensation.

he pulls away to look at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

"you're ridiculous," you laugh, pinching the inside of his bicep.

matthew's smile widens, "you love when I do that."

"no I don't." your smile gives you away, and matthew is leaning back in, blowing a quick raspberry on your flushed cheek - eliciting another laugh from you. he soothes the tickle with a quick kiss, turning your face more pink.

"I missed you so much when I was here," matthew says gently, "I can't believe that you're with me right now."

you blink in suprise, a fond smile blooming on your lips. "nowhere else i'd rather be."

he quirks a brow up playfully, "than with me?"

"no," you deadpan, "this bed. god, that nhl money really gets you the expensive mattresses, huh?" you tease, stretching your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretching motion.

matthew tongues his cheek with a grin before using one of his hands to tickle your exposed under arm. you squeak again, bringing your arms down quickly.

a moment passes, and then matthew is holding your cheek, his face coming down again but this time to kiss you softly. like usual, your stomach swoops, the feeling of his lips tenderly pressing into yours nothing short of perfect.

he pulls away an inch and then presses one more long kiss to your lips. you sigh pleasantly, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue ones again.

in between your spread legs, you feel matthew's dick twitch through his lulu shorts, right against your core. he groans quietly, "you know how many times i've jerked off in this bed thinking about sex with you?"

a mix of a laugh and gasp passes your lips, "matty! that's so gross."

he laughs amused, "and you love it."

you really do.

"so, what? i'm just laying in your cum? you're nasty." you laugh again, covering your face with in the crook of your elbow.

gently, he tugs your arm away, revealing your face to him once more. "my cum is literally in you."

you shush him, burning a deep burgundy all over.

"hey," matthew starts, "tomorrow I was thinking we could go around the city? do all that shitty tourist stuff until our heads explode. then tomorrow night, mitch and steph are having a get together at this club, thought we could go. then you can meet everyone else."

you smile brightly as you listen to matthew, enjoying the way he absentmindedly plays with the baby hairs around your face, pushing them off your forehead as he talks. "sounds perfect," you hum once he finishes.

matthew's smiles and he nods, pressing two quick kisses to your lips.

—

matthew woke you up at 7 a.m. the next morning, claiming you two had to get to the aquarium before the tourists did - when you reminded him that the two of you are also tourists, he shushed you quickly, making you laugh as his index finger pressed to your lips.

like he said he would, matthew took you around the whole city. he showed you the most iconic tourist spots in toronto - like the CN tower and museum, as well as bringing you to leafs square and showing you all his favourite spots. all day, matthew was so bubbly and happy showing you everywhere - he talked and laughed with you, never letting go of your hand or waist as he dragged you around toronto.

for a late lunch, matthew brought you to a cute cafe in trinity bellwoods, which was so delicious. while you both ate cheesy sandwiches, he had trapped your leg between his own, smiling gently anytime you caught gazes. it was all so....domestic and wonderful - you fought hard to not grin like a manic the entire day.

"you still up for tonight? everyone's looking forward to meeting you." matthew spoke into your ear on the walk back to his parked car, arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you close.

"yes," you said, "i'm excited." and then matthew kissed you right outside the sky dome for everyone to see.

you were....so in love with him.

—

you sighed, hands flattening your black skirt down as you checked your outfit over in the bathroom mirror. your top glittered as it caught the warm glow of the lightbulbs above, elevating a rather simple outfit into one appropriate for an expensive night club.

still unsure, you brought you lip between your teeth, tasting the strawberry lip stain as you did. "matty," you called out gently, padding out of the en suite and into the spare room matthew's stuff occupied, "is this okay?"

sitting on the mattress, matthew looks up from his phone at the sound of your voice. instantly, his eyes soften and glaze over, his plump lips parting as he drinks you in from head to toe.

he stands up, phone long forgotten as he makes his way over towards you. "more than okay," matthew mutters, reaching out to run his calloused fingertips over your bare shoulder, "i'm going to have to fight off other men - you look so pretty. i'm pretty good at fighting though, so don't worry."

"loser," you chime with a smile, "think it's appropriate?"

"yes," he smiles, "they'll be falling at your feet."

you roll your eyes playfully, brushing past him to grab your shoes in your small travel bag, rifling through your options. "is the uber almost here?"

he nods, watching as you pull out your favourite pair of shoes. "yeah, they're about to pull up." matthew answers, walking back over to your side.

"m'kay," you hum, strapping on the heels of your sandals. you teeter without your full balance, and matthew immediately grabs your arm to steady you.

you fight back your grin, finishing with the buckle.

matthew leads you outside with a hand on your lower back, gently guiding you into the back seat of the uber. you think he may choose to sit in the front seat, but he climbs in after you, sliding beside you effortlessly.

in the short ride to the nightclub, matthew's hand doesn't leave your leg, his palm either squeezing the meat of your thigh or a finger stroking along your tanned skin.

there's a moment when your driver makes a turn onto the street for the club, and matthew looks down at you fondly. his free hand brushes away some hair, lingering by your ear when he whispers, "being with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from."

you feel your body melt into the backseat, your grip on his bicep tightening as you stare up at him. without knowing what words to say, you choose to lean in, kissing him with as much love you can put into a kiss.

as matthew pulls away with a giddy smile, getting ready to guide you out the uber and into the line for the nightclub - you decide you're ready to tell him how you feel. when you both are back home, you're going to confess your love to him and you think - after this trip - he will feel the same.

you can see the way matthew looks at you, how he touches you and the words he says - you are positive your best friend is in love with you. the thought has you giddy, letting matthew pull you into the club with smiles on both your faces.

a cheerful loud chorus of greetings are thrown in your direction as you and matthew approach the teams occupied table at the back of the club. watching matthew light up at seeing and hearing his teammates reactions to him, instantly had you beaming.

your smile widens as matthew introduces you to everyone - first as a group, and then to everyone individually. he praises you everytime, which has you blushing. and when he doesn't introduce you as his best friend, but rather his girl, you just about melt into the sticky flooring.

everybody is friendly with you, and as you sit between matthew and steph marner, you've never felt more included in a new group of people before. steph asks about anything and everything she can think of, and you answer with just as much passion and enthusiasm as she has. then the other wags chime in and ask you about yourself - matthew smiling fondly with an arm strewn over the back of your chair - it was all you could of wanted.

the first hour is spent catching up and getting to know everyone at the table, laughter and appetizers shared between you all.

it was all going perfectly, and then, "kniesy, does your girlfriend want another drink?" you hear jake mcCabe ask matthew. you tune out amber brodie's words at the question, your heart thumping and stomach churning as you anticipate matthew's gentle correction.

she's not my girlfriend, but she'll probably want another one or we're just friends, but sure.

"hey," matthew mumbles against your ear, "want another drink?"

you smile through your momentary moment of shock, "yea...thanks."

matthew didn't correct the title of your relationship to him.

your smile widens, and you turn back to amber with a new sparkle in your eyes.

the music is a dull thump in your ears, the bass of the song sending vibrations through your body as you sway with the beat. matthew's hands are all over you, sliding down your curves and spinning you around to dance with him. it feels like your 18 again, getting drunk and dancing your nights away at the alchemy.

you think you've been out here for at least an hour, and your feet are starting to ache - but you don't find yourself to care. you can see some of matthew's teammates dancing on the floor as well, laughing and moving with one another a little bit aways from you both.

you still can't believe how nice and kind everyone of matthew's teammates and their significant others are - you hope you see them more often.

you hope you'll be coming down to toronto during the season to watch matthew play this season - sitting in the WAG box and wearing your friends last name on your back. steph has already (very tipsily) shouted about how she's adding you to their groupchat - the rest of the girls agreeing just as loud.

you feel so at home.

matthew's hand slides down over the round of you ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. you're pulled from you own thoughts at the feeling, blinking hard to regain reality. there's a glimmer in his eyes, sparkling under the blue lights and he smirks.

"I want to kiss you so bad," he says over the music, his words hitting the side of your face as he leans down.

thankfully, matthew's slightly hunched position has him close enough for you to be able to turn your head and speak directly into his ear. "kiss me," you tell him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you do so.

the kiss is messy and hot. the flavours of your respective drinks mixing on your tongues as they swirl in a dance of their own. you feel matthew smile into the kiss, which has you grinning as well.

somebody hollers in passing, and when you open your eyes you catch sight of mitch and steph behind you - sending you both grins and thumbs up, clearly the two of them for the cat calling moments before.

the combination of being flustered, the kiss and being surrounded of sweaty moving bodies has enough for you to pull away form matthew, swallowing thickly. "I need a drink."

"m'kay," he hums, "lets go back to our table first? then you can sit for a bit while I get us some drinks?"

you grin, nodding in agreement, matthew grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers, pulling you through the crowd of people and in the direction to the table.

the table is covered in various picked through appetizers, half empty glasses and bottles. there's a few people still sitting around and socializing- mostly the older guys who don't feel like dancing.

there's somebody there you haven't met, a pretty blonde girl who is chatting happily to pontus holmbergs girlfriend near the end of the table.

matthew sees her too, and immediately he tenses, his hand in yours going limp as his body goes still, eyes wide and face pale.

you frown at him, "hey, what's wrong-"

"matthew?" the girl asks loudly, a grin taking over her perfect face as she bounds over to you both. "I didn't think you'd be here!"

the girl hugs matthew's tense shoulder and then...she kisses his cheek- very close to the side of his plump pair of lips.

you stomach falls along with your face. you pull your hand away from your friends, bringing it back to your side just as the girl turns in your direction, arms still draped over matthew's shoulders.

"i'm hayley," she says, "i'm matthew's friend."

matthew blinks hard, turning to you with an expression of guilt and sadness and fear....and your heart shatters.

she continues, "well, we've like hooked up a few times. is that friends, I don't know," hayley laughs, clearly unaware of the growing tension, "anyways, who are you? I don't think we've met."

matthew opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him and you cut him off with a closed mouth smile, "just a friend from home."

"cute," hayley hums.

you nod, tears beginning to gather along your waterline. matthew watches you with that same shocked look, eyes bewildered and chest heaving. the walls feel like they are closing in on you, and your throat closes so you can't breath properly.

"I need some air," you say quickly and quitley, your eyes downcast as you turn around, darting through the crowd of the nightclub and to the door - leaving hayley, the team and matthew without another glance.

you begin to cry as soon as you step outside. your stomach is sitting heavy in your belly, weighing you down as your insides crumble with disappointment and heartbreak.

you don't know where you are going, but you start walking down the sidewalk. you didn't know where you were downtown, but you knew you couldn't go back inside and watch hayley hang over the man you love - even worse, you can't watch the way matthew lets her.

"y/n!"

you don't turn around, speeding up your walk. you pull out your phone, opening the uber app. you are already planning on getting a ride to the nearest hotel for the night - you'd get your bags tomorrow.

"y/n!" matthew calls from behind you again, "please, don't walk away."

you ignore him.

you can hear his footsteps on the pavement getting closer, and you bite down on your lips to stop the gut wrenching sob from leaving you.

"please let's just talk." matthew says loudly, "why are you so upset? stop walking away!"

you stop walking quickly and turn around forcefully. matthew takes a step back, closer than you anticipated, and stares at you breathing heavily, his brows pulled together as he sees your tear soaked face.

you huff, "you lied to me matthew."

he cringes at your angry tone and the use of his full name. matthew closes his eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath. "I should've said something sooner, I know, but it's nothing - there's nothing going on."

you laugh exasperated, "but clearly there was! fuck, I thought we had no secrets."

"we don't!" matthew sighs, "I didn't feel like it was important enough to mention."

"not important enough to mention?" you repeat, brows raised in suprise. "did you forget that we are having sex, matthew? god, I let you fuck me without a condom when you've been sleeping with someone else! the first thing you should've done was tell me."

"I didn't want it to get blown up like how it is right now," he seethes, "honestly, this is why I didn't tell you."

you scoff, "don't make this my fault!" you tell him roughly. "I don't care that you hooked up with somebody matthew! it's the fact you never told me - even before we had sex without protection. I told you there was nobody else and you said the same," you sigh gently, "janie said it first, last week she said we should of had an exclusivity talk a long time ago-"

matthew squints, "you told janie about us? what the fuck."

"you lied to me matthew!" you repeat loudly.

his expression falls, and he sighs gently, blue eyes meeting the sidewalk under his shoes.

a beat passes between you.

"you're making me feel guiltier than I already feel," he tells you harshly.

you laugh harshly again, "good! god matthew, I can't fucking believe this right now! bringing me here and introducing me to your teammates. the touches and kisses and looks you've been giving me! what you said in the cab! I thought...." you pause, bringing your lip into your mouth.

matthew's eyes soften, "you thought what?" he asks you gently. when you don't answer right away, he takes a step towards you, hand outstretched like he will reach out and touch you.

you shake your head, laughing dryly as another set of tears spring into action, dampening your cheeks. you take a step away from him, ignoring the frown tugging at his lips and the emotions in his eyes. "I thought nothing, matthew." you turn away, continuing to walk down the street.

"no," matthew says, catching up and grabbing your arm, spinning you back around and keeping you in place, "don't walk away, y/n. we need to talk."

you sigh sadly, eyes closing as you desperately try and keep your tears from falling further. "what are we doing, matthew?"

he frowns deeper at your question, his brows drawing together as he looks down at your heartbroken expression. matthew doesn't know what to say, eyes darting between the two of yours in search of some sort of indication- an answer.

"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep lying to myself that I don't want more with you, because it's fucking me up so badly." you admit quietly, salty tears falling down your cheeks and wetting your mouth. you weren't expecting to say that to him - especially tonight. but you were so tired and distraught, your body was tired of fighting for his sake.

slowly, matthew's expression changed, mouth slightly parted as he breaths deeply. "what did you say?

"nothing," you sigh again, "clearly this arrangement we have doesn't work for us anymore. go back inside with hayley, don't let me stop you anymore."

finally, you walk away from matthew. he calls your name once more, but you don't dare turn to look, keeping your eyes on your phone as you order an uber - leaving your best friend and your heart on the streets of toronto.

Epilogue:

you booked a flight home the next morning. you had to use your entire credit card balance, which you would ultimately suffer for, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

you cried to entire flight home, starring out the small window quitley as music blasted through your headphones - thinking about your fight with matthew over and over again until you landed back in arizona.

as soon as you got the wifi at the airport, you called janie, crying into your phone as you asked her for a ride home. she picked you up, and immediately you told her what happened with matthew - hiccupping through salty tears and laboured breaths.

you were so devastated.

locking yourself in your bedroom as soon as janie dropped you home, not even making an appearance for dinner. you silenced your phone and cried yourself to exhaustion.

you cringe in the early morning sun, tucked solemnly between your fuzzy blankets - cringing further at how stupid you must look thinking that your best friends love wasn't unrequited anymore - that matthew loved you back.

the thought of seeing matthew again seemed taxing - you couldn't see him. not only had you borderline confessed your feelings for him in the middle of the fight, but your heart got shattered in the process.

the look on his face when you said it - makes your stomach churn at the mere thought.

not only was there that heartbreak to process, there was also the whole thing of matthew having a girl in toronto - one that was well enough associated with him for somebody to feel the need to invite her out to the club.

he had slept with her, and then didn't tell you - he kept it all a secret, and when you asked about it, he lied to your face. matthew fucked you without protection knowing that - and he let you believe there was something more growing between you.

sniffing, you sit up in your bed, falling back against the padded headboard with defeat. your gold plated clock sitting above your desk reads 8:37, a reminder of just how early you'd naturally woken up - tear stained cheeks and headache included.

a knock sounds at your door quietly, pulling you from your pity party and a confused frown begins to tugs at your lips. your parents should be at work already, and janie hadn't mentioned coming over. perhaps your mom was home today, or janie was coming to keep you company - you wouldn't of got the message because your phone was still very much silenced.

"y/n?" the voice is muffled through the door, but you'd recognize the sound of his anywhere. after all, you've been replaying anything he's every said to you over in your mind since freshman year.

"y/n? are you awake?" matthew questions again.

you shoot up out of bed, bare feet padding to the closed door. matthew hears the springs of the mattress through the door as you move and the sound of you shuffling towards him.

you don't say anything but matthew had the conformation you're there and awake - all the conformation he needed that you were alive. you hadn't responded to any of his calls or texts - he's pretty sure he even emailed you, desperate to get you to talk to him.

so like any logical person would, matthew hopped on the next flight to arizona, suitcase still in his car while he knocks on your bedroom door.

"can you please open the door? I need to talk to you." he pleads gently.

your voice is shaky, tears of embarrassment and pain threatening to spill. "about what?"

matthew breaths a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice - although you don't sound like you usually do. you sound sad and tired...and that breaks his heart. he sighs again, and firmly asks again, "open the door."

you find your self hesitating for a moment, hand hovering over the bronze knob as you think about what's to come. maybe matthew wants an apology - your hasty exit from the club and making a scene in the streets was embarrassing for him. or maybe he's here to let you down, tell you that you can still be friends, but he doesn't have feelings - or worse, he can't be friends with you anymore.

the unknown is eating you alive, and with a deep breath, you turn the door handle, pulling open the door that separates you from him.

his face changes into something similar to relief at the sight of you, and you look down to the floor, knawing on your lip as you try to stay calm.

"what are doing here?" you ask. you look back towards his kind face, your brows pulled tight as you take him in.

he doesn't seem angry or upset. if anything he looks nervous...anxious even. you wonder if there's a reason for that, after all, he has cut his own trip short and come home to arizona for this conversation.

"did you mean it?" matthew ignores your question, taking a step closer to you. "what you said?"

he has to be talking about your brief confession outside the nightclub during the fight, you think, and you stomach drops. you knaw your bottom lip, further shredding the soft skin you'd been tugging on all night. you nod your head once, so quick you're not sure if matthew even saw.

but he did see it, and he breaths what seems like a sigh of relief, a very faint grin beginning to make its way onto his face. matthew clears his throat, "I did a shitty thing," he starts quietly, his adam's apple with a nervous swallow, "I lied to you because I was embarrassed. I lied because we're not just friends and we haven't been for a long time."

you mouth drops, heavy breaths falling past your lips. before you can even fathom your response, he continues. "I should've told you about that girl, even if I didn't want to. I only hooked up with hayley because I was trying to forget about my feelings for you. I know we're best friends, but I want to be more. so if you really meant what you said the other night, say it again. let me hear you say it again." he takes a deep breath, and an airy chuckle leaves his lips, "and I know this is a lot before 9 in the morning, but I need to hear you say it."

you swallow, saliva thick with nerves. pushing your messy hair off your face, hands desperately trying to keep busy. you don't know what to think. "is this a joke? are you only saying this to make me feel better?"

his brows draw together and he frowns - fingers itching to reach out and touch you. "I would never joke about what I feel for you."

matthew knies confessed he has feelings for you. everything you've ever wanted, everything you've longed for is about to happen - is happening.

"matty," you breath, "I love you and i've loved you for years...and I know that's more than what I said the other night and I hope it's not too much for you, but-"

he kisses you.

matthew holds you close as he leans down to capture your lips with his own, bottom and top enclosing around yours as he kisses like he always does: perfectly.

a moment later, your lips part and breathlessly, he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as you two catch your laboured breath.

"how long?"

"what?" you question quietly.

"how long have you loved me?" he whispers softly.

"since highschool," you admit.

"god," matthew whispers wondrously with a small smile, "I wish we had this conversation sooner....because i've loved you since freshman year. that's why I never had a girlfriend and that's why I proposed the idea of loosing our virginities to one another. I wanted to loose my virginity to you - and only you since the moment we met."

"you've liked me since highschool?" you ask dumbfounded, your pointer finger gesturing between you. "we were both really oblivious, huh?"

"I thought I was being obvious," matthew admits with a laugh, thumb rubbing along your cheekbone.

you shrug, hand coming up to hold his wrist tightly - keeping him close. "well, I think I was the only one being oblivious- janie knew you had a crush on me."

"damn," he smiles, "janie is smarter than I thought."

you giggle just as matthew leans back in, kissing you with as much force he can manage - and this time, you're sure of it - it was love.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[schemmentigfs]

Under Her Nose. (part 1.)

Summary: Melissa and you are on a situationship for weeks, but none of you dare to share this secret with anyone. The problem is? Ava Coleman, your sister would disapprove your relationship with the fiery redhead.

WC: 5.59k.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Warnings: mentions of sex.

big shout-out to the beautiful @cowboykya for helping me to keep this idea. 🩷

Fate was treacherous, unpredictable, playing tricks on anyone. But you never expected to feel this way about Melissa Schemmenti.

When you started teaching at Abbott Elementary, after your sister practically got you the job, insisting that you should work at her school and not Addington Elementary because, according to her, you were too cool for their rich, systematic bunch in those better, private conditions. She seemed like the last person you would get close to. Her practical attitude, her sarcasm, the way she always seemed a little irritated. All of that made her seem untouchable. Even intimidating, at times. But there was something about her that drew you in. Maybe it was her humor, sharp and quick, or the way she cared so deeply for her students and close colleagues, even though she acted like she didn’t care at all.

The redheaded woman had always been a difficult person to describe, especially when compared to most of the staff.

While the other teachers were full of enthusiasm and wanted to save the world with a daily dose of positivity to avoid a nervous breakdown, the second-grade teacher was more concerned with making sure things worked at the most basic level. She wasn’t there to give fake smiles or be the favorite of her little eagles– she was there because she believed that, even in the broken public education system, she could make a real difference for the few students who could look beyond her tough exterior and see who she really was.

Unlike Janine Teagues, who had a dreamy approach and always tried to make every moment a teaching opportunity filled with possibilities, her grade partner was practical, almost merciless at times, but genuine. She wasn’t interested in miraculous transformations. Her constant sarcasm, her straightforward way of speaking, and her fight or fight mantra were a defense mechanism, but also a way to cut through everyone’s BS. When she spoke, it was with an unmistakable tone of authority, and it wasn’t hard to tell she was used to being the one who stands firm, even when everyone around her is vulnerable or desperately trying to please.

Melissa was also, by far, the most annoying and least emotional of the bunch, which, somehow, only made her presence more powerful. She wasn’t afraid to openly criticize someone if she thought they were wasting time or, worse, being ineffective— something she certainly hated. But behind her tough facade, there was an unwavering loyalty to those who were really on her side, something that wasn’t easy to earn.

She wasn’t there to make friends, but she wasn’t willing to distance herself from those who truly mattered either. The words “compassion” and “care” weren’t used lightly by her, but when she cared, you felt it. She was the type of person who would do the unthinkable to protect those who, in some way, were in her orbit. That made her more unique, harder to understand – and, for that reason, more fascinating.

Compared to the others, she was a storm, full of intense and unsettling energy, something much more complicated than any of the cheerier or more inspiring facets of the other team members. And, paradoxically, it was this complexity that made someone like you feel drawn to her.

It had started as simple curiosity. You’d heard plenty of stories about her from Ava, most of them exaggerated, of course. She loved to poke fun at Melissa Schemmenti, often calling her Ms. Tough Guy or The Abbott Enforcer, always with a mischievous grin. And that grew even more often with their newfound friendship after the small heist at the visit to Girard Creek Golf Course, maybe they weren't so different at all. But when you actually started working alongside your current situationship, you realized that those stories didn’t do her justice at all. Never did.

There was a depth to her that your older sister never mentioned. The way she’d stay late to make sure her classroom was perfect for the next day. The way she’d show up after a Philadelphia Eagles win. The way she’d give the students in her class little pep talks when she thought no one was listening. The way she’d call out nonsense in staff meetings but somehow still manage to sound extremely professional.

At first, you only admired her from afar. She was just some random colleague — sure, one you couldn’t stop thinking about, but still, a colleague. Part of the reason you always kept some distance was Ava. Your older sister had an imposing presence, and her overly protective stance made it impossible for anything to escape her radar. To her, you were the helpless little sister, the one the world kept trying to bring down — even though, most of the time, you insisted you could take care of yourself.

Ava never hesitated to push away anyone she considered a threat to you. When you were younger, that meant crashing parties to get you out if she thought the environment wasn’t safe. Later, it meant monitoring your relationships, intimidating any suitor with her sharp gaze, and even showing up at your old job to “check on how things were going.” You knew that, behind all that chaotic energy, there was an unconditional love. But you also knew she’d never stand by if she suspected someone was breaking your heart.

Maybe that’s why you never got too close to the other teachers. Jacob was too friendly, always trying to start conversations about some obscure documentary you wouldn’t watch even if paid. Janine, with her overflowing energy, made you feel even more out of place, as if every interaction required an excessive effort. Gregory was polite but distant — and you knew Ava had a sixth sense for spotting “awkward guys,” as she called them. As for Barbara… well, she was a legend, and you never wanted to risk looking foolish in front of her.

So, you contented yourself with staying in the shadows, doing your job without drawing much attention. At least until Melissa Schemmenti.

The green-eyed woman was different. And, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, there was something about her that pulled you closer. That blunt attitude, the raspy laugh that echoed down the hallways, the intense glances she’d throw over her various pairs of glasses when someone said something particularly stupid. It was impossible not to notice. And worse, it was impossible not to want more.

But, of course, there was Principal Coleman. And just the thought of what your sister would do if she found out you were interested in the most feared teacher at the school was enough to keep you in line. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. It was during that staff meeting that everything changed.

In the long development week, being the lovely and helpful principal that she was, Ava was monotonously talking about another poorly executed initiative, her excited voice echoing off the walls in that sing-song tone she used when she knew no one was listening. Janine sat at the edge of her chair, forcing a polite smile and nodding enthusiastically in an attempt to seem engaged, even though her big eyes occasionally darted toward the door. Jacob was fiddling with his pen, aimlessly doodling on the margins of his notebook, clearly trying to stay awake. Barb reclined with her arms crossed, her expression exuding mild disapproval and resignation, while Gregory kept glancing at the clock, letting out a subtle sigh every few seconds, his boredom clearly etched on his face.

The other staff members just remained silent.

“Ava,” Janine said after a while, running her hand through her curls. “Look, your proposal is reasonable. But we can’t afford this!”

“Shut up,” your older sister huffed, walking over to the projector to make a PowerPoint presentation about her planning for new posts on Instagram.

“God bless that O’shon, poor kid,” Mr. Johnson muttered to himself, looking at the cameras. “Or that Crystal Rilley.”

The mention of the rival made Ava freeze.

“Mr. J, how dare you mention that bitch’s name? We shouldn’t even speak it! It’s like any Christian wouldn’t dare mention Satan’s name.”

Mrs. Howard jumped out of her seat in an instant, looking offended. “Excuse me?”

“Uh. Sorry?” The principal shot back.

You were sitting on the other side of the room from the redhaired woman, half paying attention, when you caught her rolling her beautiful green eyes. Without thinking, you stared at her and murmured.

“This is a waste of time, don't you think?”

Her plump lips curled into a shy smile before she quickly averted her gaze, not bothering to give you a single response, but at that moment, something clicked. It was as if you'd unlocked a secret part of her, a part she didn't show everyone. After that, you couldn’t stop noticing her, or the way Melissa Schemmenti started noticing you back.

At first, it was in the little things. The way she lingered just a second longer in the hall if you were there. The way her sharp responses softened when they were directed at you, the edges of her voice rounded with something you couldn’t name. The way her eyes would find yours during faculty meetings, as if she were looking for an ally in the sea of chaos that Ava always seemed to create.

“Another motivational poster initiative?” you asked quietly one afternoon, glancing at the second-grade teacher across the room during a PTA meeting. “What's next, a dance competition to inspire better test scores?”

Melissa turned her head slightly, pretending to adjust the papers in front of her. “Careful, rookie,”she whispered loud enough for you to hear. “Your sister might actually pick up that idea and run with it.”

You suppressed a laugh, her green eyes sparkling with amusement as she caught your reaction. It felt like a game that only the two of you were playing, a quiet rebellion against the absurdity of the daily grind that seemed to infect that building.

The first time you really had a conversation alone with her was after school one day. You were staying late to reorganize your classroom, frustrated with the mess your students had managed to create. Melissa walked in, probably looking for something—likely her stapler, which seemed to disappear weekly.

“You’re still here, Y/N?” she asked, leaning against the door with her arms crossed.

“Apparently, my fourth graders are aspiring tornadoes,” you replied, holding up a crumpled worksheet you found shoved inside a desk. “This is my life now.”

The older woman laughed, walking in. “Fourth grade, huh? You’ve got the sweet spot. Too old to be clingy, too young to be chatty.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think that's the sweet spot? Yesterday, a kid tried to trade homework for a pack of gum.”

Her laughter came easily this time, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, fair enough. But at least they’re creative. My second-graders think spelling their names correctly deserves a gold star.”

You smiled. “I’d trade you any day.”

Melissa tilted her head, her gaze lingering just a moment longer. “Careful what you wish for, rookie. You might not survive a day with my kids.”

The friendship between you two grew slowly, like a secret entrusted to the wind. There wasn’t a specific moment when you realized she had become an essential part of your life—it was like the golden light streaming through the blinds in the morning, coming without warning but filling everything with warmth.

At first, the older woman was just the stubborn colleague who always knew how to have the last word. You argued more than you talked, each of you determined to prove your point, until one day, laughter won. It was during yet another endless school meeting, when you made a whispered joke about the broken coffee machine, and Melissa, without even trying to hide it, let out a laugh—a rough, authentic sound, as if it had come from a place she didn’t open up to often. From there, everything changed.

The green eyed woman started stopping by your classroom after hours, sometimes just to complain about the school’s awful coffee, other times to share some hallway gossip. You found a rhythm in your interactions, a silent dance of teasing and camaraderie. And then, without realizing it, you became her safe place.

The first time she really spoke about herself was on a gray day, the smell of rain still hanging in the air. You were sitting in the parking lot, on the concrete steps, sharing a cigarette she pulled from her pocket as if offering a secret. The smoke rose between you two, creating an ephemeral veil that made everything feel more intimate.

“Ma used to say cigarettes were for weak men,” Melissa said, with a half-smile that was bitter. “But after Joseph left home, well... Weak or not, here I am.”

It was the first time she mentioned the divorce. The word hung in the air, heavy and inevitable. She didn’t cry. The second-grade teacher was never one for easy tears. But the way her shoulders dropped slightly revealed the weight she carried. She talked about the marriage, how Joe’s laughter had become rarer, until the silent house became unbearable. She spoke of the muffled arguments behind closed doors and the nights when sleep wouldn’t come, even after another cigarette smoked to the filter.

“Teresa?” your coworker continued, taking a deep drag. “Oh, she loved being right. She said if I’d listened to my famiglia, I wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also a kind of acceptance. You didn’t interrupt. You just listened. And that’s how she went on, unraveling the knots of her own story—the childhood surrounded by traditions that allowed no room for deviation, the prayers murmured in Italian in the kitchen, the smell of tomato sauce that always seemed to linger in the air. The older Schemmenti grew up with Catholic faith as a tight cord around her chest, learning far too early to confuse guilt with devotion.

“Not that I go to church much anymore,” she confessed, blowing out the smoke with a sigh. “But sometimes, I light a candle. I think candles understand us more than priests.”

And then, as if needing to lift the weight of the moment, Melissa laughed. That half-smile laugh you’d come to know so well.

“Oh, and there’s another faith I take seriously. The firefighters from South Philly. Those arms? Those pants? My Holy Mother.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you say this... from personal experience?”

Melissa leaned back on the step, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, narrowing her eyes as if she was about to share a forbidden secret. “Listen, I’ve had sex with a lot of beautiful women in my life, but this firefighter… Madonna mia. She looked like Halle Berry.”

She made an exaggerated gesture with her hands, as if she had to draw the perfection.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. Dark skin, soft as hell, you know? Like silk. Short curly hair, and those eyes…” Melissa sighed, tilting her head as if reliving the scene. “Brown, deep, like dark honey under the light. And the body?” She laughed, shaking her head. “The definition of hot. Strong arms, thighs that could crush a man without effort, and that posture of someone who knows she can carry you if she wants.”

She took a deep drag and released the smoke slowly, a lazy smile on her lips.

“She was in uniform that night, straight off her shift. The tight tank top, the pants low on her hips… Jesus Christ. I saw that woman and thought: ‘If I die in a fire, I hope I get to ride on that strap first.”

You couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy, and your cheeks warmed with her words.

The redhead laughed again, mischievous, and shot you a suggestive look. “And let me tell you... She knew how to use those hands for much more than just holding a hose.”

You laughed with her, the kind of laugh that understood. Because that's how Melissa was, intense, contradictory, absurdly alive. She spoke with the same passion about family traumas and about her most mundane pleasures. And when she mentioned her unwavering love for Real Housewives, gesturing with fervor to defend her favorite cast members, you realized how much you loved that about her.

She was never someone easily surprised. But when the name Chappell Roan first came up in casual conversation, something in her expression changed. She was sitting on the couch, a beer in hand and a slight look of disdain, until Pink Pony Club echoed from the TV. Suddenly, the way she adjusted herself, how her gaze focused on the screen, how her fingers gripped the bottle just a little tighter, made it clear: here was a genuine passion.

Being her friend was like holding a lit match. She burned with anger, with desire, with sharp humor and still, you couldn't pull away. Because, even with all the ashes, she was warmth. She was presence. And now, she was your one of your best friends.

The flirting between you started unnamed, with no declared intention, like a fire born from discreet sparks. At first, it was just the lingering glances that were too long to be casual, a touch of fingers that lasted a second longer than necessary when passing papers to each other.

But then came the provocations. The biting comments disguised as jokes, the way the redhead smiled crookedly after making some sharp remark, just to see if you'd react in kind. And you did.

You challenged each other in small things, exchanged veiled insinuations in the middle of common conversations, until the air between you became thick, heavy with something unspoken but undeniably present. And when she leaned against your shoulder while laughing, or when her voice dropped to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, your whole body seemed to recognize what your mind was still pretending not to know: you were dangerously close to crossing a line.

The first time she kissed you, it was as if gravity had shifted, as if the world’s axis tilted just to remind you that, until that moment, you hadn't known what it truly meant to be alive.

Willard R Abbott was empty at that hour, the hallways bathed in pale light flickering from the old lamps, humming in a near-complicit silence. You and Melissa had been there for a while, discussing something trivial — maybe a detail about the fundraiser, but at that moment, none of the words seemed to matter. Everything dissolved when you noticed the way she looked at you, her green eyes less intense than usual, softer, as if she hesitated to hide something that was already beyond control.

Then, without warning, without space for you to anticipate, her lips touched yours. It was a moment of heat and dizziness, a contained hurricane in the narrow space between your two bodies. Your situationship pulled away too quickly, and in the startled gleam of her gaze, there was surprise, there was fear — but, above all, there was an undeniable desire to not undo what had just happened. And you felt the same. No regrets. No doubts.

The first time you both gave in to desire after the kiss, it was as if the whole world disappeared, as if everything around you became a blur, irrelevant in the face of the intensity of what was happening. There was no rush. Nothing seemed urgent. On the contrary, each second was lived with an unsettling calm, as if the universe knew that this moment was unique.

You were at her place, on a warm summer night. The air was thick, scented with earth and streetlights filtering through the window, casting a soft glow. The atmosphere was tense, laden with a silent expectation that filled the space between you. The leather couch in the corner of the room seemed to be the only safe place in that moment, as words began to fade, replaced by ragged breathing and gazes loaded with desire.

She touched your face with a softness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. Your bodies were so close that the fine line between friendship and something more seemed to disappear. She was the one to break the silence first, her hands searching for yours, and when your fingers intertwined, it was as if the rest of the world stopped spinning.

The kiss was different this time, deeper, more urgent, as if all the promises made in that previous exchange of lips now needed to be fulfilled. Melissa Schemmenti’s taste was stronger, more urgent. Something between the cigarette and the perfume she wore, and you lost yourself in it, in that kiss that seemed to consume both of you. Her hands traveled across your body, exploring carefully and yet with the certainty of someone who knew what they wanted.

The moment was hot, unhurried, but also without shame. When your bodies finally fused together, there was something unusual in the way you felt with her, as if, in that act, you were more exposed than just physically. She, with her gentle touches, seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make you feel desired, and you, in turn, knew how to give yourself up without fear. The sex wasn't just physical, it was a silent conversation between the two of you, a dialogue without words, where everything was said through gestures and sighs.

The encounters between you, now, were casual, but always tinged with a palpable tension, as if you were getting to know each other in every gesture, in every look. There was no commitment — at least, not on the surface. They appeared out of nowhere, a phone call to grab coffee, a trip to the movies, or even a nighttime walk through Center City Philadelphia. Each of these encounters felt like a small escape from reality, a space where the rules of the outside world didn't apply.

Weeks passed, but the weight of that secret only seemed to grow. Every exchange of glances with Melissa was a careful dance, a game of disguises where the smallest slip could expose what you were trying to hide. You found yourself caught in the details — the way she moistens her lips before speaking, the way her fingers nervously drummed against the wood of the table when she was lost in thought. Everything about her was an invitation to daydream. And still, fear loomed over you both like a storm waiting to strike.

Ava Coleman wasn’t stupid. Your sister had a nearly cruel talent for sniffing out secrets. She would throw jabs disguised as jokes, each comment laced with suspicion.

“You and Schemmenti have been... coincidentally spending a lot of time together, don't you think?”she once said, with a sly smile, as if she were just having fun.

You giggled, a fragile and empty sound. But the truth was, every word of hers pierced your chest. The fear of being discovered clung to your skin, like a second layer of guilt.

That Wednesday, the restlessness was unbearable. The empty classroom seemed smaller with each step you took, the creaking of the old floorboards accompanying your impatience. Your situationship hadn’t sought you out all day. No furtive glances in the hallways, no hidden touches. The emptiness of her absence was almost physical.

You knew you shouldn't expect anything. You understood the weight she carried, the walls she’d built to protect herself. But it was hard. Hard to hold back the desire for more from her, more stolen moments, more honesty. You wanted her in her entirety, not just in the shadows.

When you finally saw her, the twilight had already tinged the sky with copper hues. She came out of the building with quick steps, her head down, as if the very air around her was a risk. You called out to her.

“Babe,” you sighed heavily.

She didn’t respond. She didn't slow her pace, didn't look back. And that indifference, even if perhaps feigned, cut deep.

Later, back at your small apartment complex, silence became your only companion. The cold light from your laptop screen illuminated your face as you tried to correct papers. But the students’s words were just disconnected scribbles. Your mind was far away, trapped in the memory of Melissa Schemmenti. The sound of her laugh echoed in the most secret corners of your memory, along with the sensation of her touch on your skin.

You wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was thinking of you too. Or if, perhaps, she was trying to forget.

A message. It was the least you could do. Something simple, discreet, without revealing the turmoil inside you.

You: I hope you’re doing well.

The response didn’t come. The screen remained dark and silent, as if the universe itself conspired to prolong your anxiety.

Each minute without a reply was a blow. The emptiness screamed louder than any word. You hated yourself for it. For depending so much on her. For wanting something you weren’t sure you could have.

When the phone finally vibrated, the subtle sound reverberated through the apartment. Your heart skipped, as if that small tremor was a whisper of hope. Your hands trembled as you picked up the device, the reflection of the illuminated screen dancing in your eyes.

And there it was. A message.

Red: Can we talk? Tomorrow after work? At your place? Jacob is bringing that Elijah over and I don’t wanna hear him on my roof again.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a response.

Of course. See you then.

You set the phone aside, leaned back on the couch, and closed your eyes. Tomorrow. You would talk tomorrow. Maybe then, you’d finally figure out where this was going, or if it was even going anywhere.

But this wasn’t easy for Melissa either.

Behind the sharp words and crooked smiles, Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti hid a soul accustomed to control. She was the kind of woman who balanced the chaos of a second-grade classroom with the finesse of someone who knew exactly how to tame storms. The friend who always had a quick response, ready to defend those she loved. The woman who never let others see when she was trembling inside. But with you, everything felt different. You were the anomaly, the exception.

She wasn’t proud of the way she'd avoided you today. How her steps quickened the moment she spotted you in the hallway, how she sought refuge by the vending machine, pretending to study the options just to make sure you were gone. Every glance dodged, every hurried step away only made the ache in her chest grow stronger. Running wasn't her style. But there she was — running from what she wanted most.

And the worst part? It was you. Ava Coleman's younger sister. Ava, who thrived in chaos as though it were an endless source of energy. The principal who turned every conversation into a grand performance and every secret into a scandal fit for a soap opera. Melissa couldn't even begin to imagine the storm that would follow if her boss ever found out about the two of you. It would be an inferno of unimaginable proportions.

Still, every time the green eyed woman tried to convince you to end it — to stop before it was too late — something held her back. Because you weren't just her boss’s sister. You were you. She hated how much she thought about you. The sound of your laughter lingered in her mind long after you'd left. The way your eyes held hers, as if you could see the very things she tried so hard to hide. She hated the insatiable urge to tell you everything, to tear down the walls she'd built over the years. But what if you saw too much? What if you uncovered the parts of her that no one else knew and decided she wasn't worth staying for?

The fear was always there, lurking beneath the surface. Fear of not being enough. Fear of being too much. Fear of opening the door and finding only emptiness on the other side. Uncertainty was unfamiliar ground for her, and you were a whirlwind, daring her to lose herself in the eye of the storm.

The Sicilian had never been friends with uncertainty. She liked things as they were: organized, predictable, manageable. She sought solidity, a clear structure amid the chaos. But you? You were fire in its purest form — untamed, insatiable. A spark that set everything ablaze and made her forget how dangerous it was to get too close. And yet, she did. Every time. Because there was nothing about you that could be ignored.

No, this wasn't easy for her. Not even close.

When Melissa crossed the threshold of her home, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. The air inside was still, as if the very walls could sense the weight she carried. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. But even without its small burden, the true weight remained, stubborn and unrelenting. She needed to talk, to unload the turmoil that swirled within her. And who else, besides Jacob, could listen without judgment?

He was the only one who could know. The only one who could understood.

Barbara? No. The memory of last time still stung. That CPR class had been a cruel reminder that keeping secrets from her best friend was like betraying a part of herself. But now, Melissa felt she had no other choice. This was too big, too absurd. How could she explain something so irrational without sounding like a woman lost in her own feelings?

The living room was cloaked in a soft, dim glow, with only the bluish light of the television pulsing against the walls. One Punch Man played in the background, as it often did during Jacob’s quiet evenings. He was there, sunk into the worn plastic-covered couch, eyes lazily scanning his phone. Probably reading another history article. The comfort of old words seemed to be his way of escaping the world.

The redhead woman envied him for a fleeting moment. He could lose himself in the noise, let the endless stream of information carry him away. But her? She never knew how to do that. Even in silence, her mind never found peace.

“Hey, man,” she greeted her roommate, trying to sound casual, even though her heart was pounding.

Jacob looked up from his smartphone, raising an eyebrow. “Mel. Didn’t see you at the lounge today. Long day?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, sliding onto the plastic couch beside him. She rubbed her temples, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“So... I’m guessing it’s not just the usual school stress you’re dealing with?” the young boy asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. He had a way of reading his work mom, seeing right through the tough exterior she worked so hard to maintain. And for some reason, she trusted him with things she couldn’t trust anyone else with.

She chuckled bitterly. “You could say that.”

Jacob turned his body to face her fully, setting his phone down and giving her his undivided attention. Melissa could feel the weight of his stare, like he was waiting for her to spill everything.

“I’m seeing someone,” she said quietly, biting her nails.

He blinked in surprise. “Wait. Who? Another firefighter or the guy from the hot tub?”

Melissa let out a frustrated breath, sinking into the couch. “No! We don’t talk about those mistakes on this house! Y/N.”

Jacob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re... seeing Y/N. The same who is the fourth grade teacher and Ava’s sister? The one you’ve been saying is a rookie for the past year?” He let out a small laugh, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “This is... something else, Mel Mel. You sure about this? I didn’t know you were into women!”

The green eyed woman rubbed her hands over her face. “I am bisexual, you prick. And for the record, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. It’s just...everything’s different when I’m with her. But it’s complicated. We can’t tell no one, J. If anyone finds out, it’ll be a disaster. Coleman will kill me. And I don’t know what to do with all of this. It feels like I’m walking on a damn tightrope.”

“I never saw you so scared about a relationship,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “It looks like you are about to crack.”

Melissa rolled her eyes, trying to sound confident, though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

“I’m not gonna crack. But it’s just... I don’t know. It feels like one wrong move, and everything could blow up. She’s younger. I can’t—”

“I get it,” Jacob interrupted, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I get it, Mel. But just... don’t lose yourself in it, okay? Don’t let it become something you regret. Whatever happens, just promise me you’ll think it through. And if you need to talk, you know where I am.”

She looked at him, her heart heavy with gratitude. “Thanks, J. Really.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink, picking his phone back up as he added. “Just try not to get caught, alright?”

“I’m working on it.”

Touching his golden curls, the thirty year old prompted. “So, does Barb know?”

“No.”

“Shit!”

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[sl-ut]

sugar and spice

modern!alicent and her sugar baby/younger gf

warnings: semi nsfw, age gap (alicent mid-40s, r early-mid-20s) mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of alicent trying and failing to be a good mom sometimes, viserys being a bad dad and husband, probably bad description of what it’s like to be rich bc im #poor

alicent really shouldn’t even give the girl a second glance

she’s more than twenty years younger than her, and even worse, she was the former best friend of her own second youngest child, aemond

alicent could remember her being around their unnecessarily large home, but she never paid her much mind

she was usually busy running the multi million dollar company she’d married into (her ceo husband’s health was failing), while also juggling pr issues after one of aegon’s nights out, or doing her best to keep helaena relatively stable (all the girl really needed was a stable childhood, therapy, and maybe some light meds, but it was wayyy past that point), or defending herself against the scandalous rumours and defamation in the media (almost all started by daemon and/or rhaenyra)

aemond and daeron were her least problematic children

aemond was a self-sufficient machine and genius who had decided he did not need his mother’s help to be successful, while daeron turned his mommy and daddy issues into becoming a star footballer and white boy of the month for three consecutive years straight

she was glad enough that they were able to find their own support systems—daeron in his career and large group of close-knit friends, and aemond in his best friend

they’d met in secondary school, attached at the hip ever since. she was from an upper middle class family, only able to attend such a prestigious school on a scholarship, whether it be entirely through school or also through sport, alicent was unsure

aemond had considered her to be the only other person at that school who was not a complete fool and was worth his time

alicent did recall her being present on a few family vacations, which were usually more focused on forcing her children out of london and into an unfamiliar and enclosed area for a period of time to keep them out of trouble

she noticed that she had stopped coming around shortly after their first year at college, after aemond’s very first instant of needing some the help of his family’s pr team

he’d admitted his deep and profound love for his best friend rather publicly, at a birthday party he’d organized for her at one of his family’s homes in the country

after she had let him down (both argue whether or not it was gentle or not) there was a bit of a blow up regarding some very passive aggressive tweets and insta stories aimed at one another (one of aemond’s may or may not have included a comment about her sexuality)

his followers (which was infinitely more than her own) flew to her comment section to torch her for being a gold digger, for leading him on, while the rest of the world turned on him for publicly outing her and also blaming her for her disinterest in him due to her sexuality

after that, there were no public interactions between this middle-class girl and the targaryen family

she had become somewhat of an influencer in the years to follow, but was relatively off of alicent’s radar once everything had blown over

that is until they were photographed leaving a club together, both of their lipsticks smudged and suspiciously smeared—almost as if they’d been mixed together

alicent had been there as her son’s guardian, overseeing a business deal with the owner, his first since succeeding his late father as ceo

daemon had gotten to rhaenyra during her father’s sickness, convincing her to begin their own rival company and leaving the seat open for aegon

after realizing that the meeting was nothing more than a reason for them to get plastered and creep on girls who were far too drunk to know any better, she decided to excuse herself in hopes of making a quick exit

cue her bumping into someone, spilling her glass of wine over the front of their outfit

she was surprised to actually know the person, after a slight reminder from the girl herself

the next thing she knew, she was pressed against the door of a bathroom stall, the younger woman meeting her in a fight of passionate kisses

she made an effort to have the driver meet them at the back door, but of course it did nothing to stop paparazzi from catching them climbing into the car together

she woke up the next morning in her own bed, naked with the younger woman tucked into her side, a throbbing headache, and a dozen angry messages from aemond

her initial instinct is to do some major damage control, to rush to her office and call her publicist

but as the woman next to her began to stir, eyes fluttering open and a smile crawling onto her face, she began to change her mind

she ordered breakfast for them, a seemingly endless spread of pancakes, eggs, bacon, fruit, yogurt, coffee, and baked goods all courtesy of her private chef, served to them on the terrace of her penthouse overlooking london

alicent was sure to fill the girl in on the pr nightmare that had come from their night together, but was clear about where they would go from here

they would lay low for a while and try to let the scandal blow over; it wasn't exactly great for her image as president of targaryen industries that she was sleeping with women more than half her age less than a year after her husband's death

alicent was very upfront with her; they could either go their separate ways and never speak again, or they could continue this arrangement (in secret, ofc)

neither of them formally discuss the arrangement but its very clear to both of them

alicent tells her in the beginning she isn't looking for anything serious for the time being, especially considering that this relationship in particular would cause her issues within her own family

it didn't really stay secret for long, more of a situationship that everyone knew about but also no one knew about

i'm thinking it's like a tom and zendaya situation, everyone knows but the pap pics confirm a few months later

their time together is usually limited to weekends or late nights, but usually once every few months alicent is able to get away and take her on little trips to a more secluded and private place where they do not need to worry about being seen

she loves taking her to the countryside, which she initially referred to as her late husband's "cottage" but is actually more like a small castle

sugar baby once woke up after alicent left for work to find her assistant helping another woman set up a tailoring station in the living room

the woman was a seamstress that alicent had asked to take her baby's measurements so she could surprise her by sending her custom clothing and lingerie that may or may not match some of her own

loves seeing her baby in green

she liked to send her baby gifts when she had to be away for work for a few days

also sent her an "allowance" of a minimum 5k a week

encouraged her to move into one of her spare condos

sometimes was a little overbearing about how her baby went about things but can you blame her for being a control freak with the family she has?

realises that she actually loved her after she broke down in front of her for the first time, and her baby simply held her and encouraged her to let it out rather than to compartmentalise her emotions

after that she felt like it was more of a relationship than an arrangement

when they finally go public, its totally unintentional and chaotic

alicent's baby is up for a big award in her field and alicent plans a little private celebration for the two of them

one of her bitch ass assistants snitched and the paparazzi showed up

this time around it was pointless to try and do any more damage control over the situation if she was gonna continue to have a relationship with her baby

their relationship caused some backlash, all on her baby's part

alicent was a millionaire and the president of one of the most influential companies in the world, she was basically untouchable

her baby, however, was a masters student with less than a million followers; just famous enough that people cared enough to both know her name and send her an endless stream of hate

the final straw was when some of her haters showed up to her school's awards banquet and caused a scene

after that alicent was determined to stop it by issuing a public message and having her lawyers get involved

it was bad enough that they were facing criticism from alicent's own family (esp aemond) so she was not willing to let any harassment to her baby slide

at this point alicent no longer considers this to be a sugar mommy/baby relationship and asks her to move in with her

officially moves out of the red keep (their personal building of condos) and into one of her own homes outside london and has her baby move in with her so she can be better protected

aemond doesn't speak to her for anything non-business related for months after they go public

alicent does try to speak to him, but understands that this situation will not be brushed over so easily

it finally blows over when aemond comes face to face with her baby and they fight it out

she apologises for dating his mom but also reveals to him that she was basically exiled from her own family after he outed her and had also lost her only real friend; alicent was the only person who seemed to genuinely care about her since they stopped being friends several years ago

he's still mad, but he makes an effort to let them be and eventually he gets used to it

he also likes that she is able to actually make his mother happy; she was not always there for them as she should have been, but he knew the person that she had become were a result of the environment she'd been forced into by her father

aegon thought it was hilarious that his prim and proper mother had subjected herself to such scandal, but also appreciated that she was less uptight when she was with her baby

he also thought alicent's baby was very funny and enjoyed trying to get her drunk at family dinners

he would be secretly refilling her glass whenever she wasn't looking and alicent would only notice when her baby was suddenly all giggly and sentimental

helaena was just glad that the drama was over, but also enjoyed spending time with her mother's new woman

she did help her with some forced exposure; she often encouraged her to join them when she and alicent went shopping or out to lunch just to get her out of the house

daeron isn't home much due to his football career, but he does follow her on instagram and comments something vaguely friendly whenever she posted something with or regarding his family

rhaenyra and daemon def use the scandal to their advantage in the media

she's suddenly being included in magazines and celebrity news pages every time she's spotted in public

especially when they catch sight of the big rock on her finger after a year or two

when they do finally tie the knot it's a super private ceremony and dinner at one of the hightower estates before leaving for a month-long honeymoon in the mediterranean; she does not want to use her late husband's money or assets to begin her new marriage

100% willing to financially support any of her baby's career decisions

she's wanting to start a small business? sure thing. she's beginning a new research project? consider it funded. she wants to make a career change? she's more than ready to take over all of the bills and expenses

since she spends so much time at work, she likes spending all of her free time with her baby

if her baby is going to get her hair or nails done? she's in the chair next to her. going to pilates? she's got her spandex on. going out with the girls? alicent will let her go alone but is on-call to pick her up and bring her home as soon as she texts her

alicent isn't a heavy drinker but def can pound back a glass of wine after work like no other

loves when her baby has it ready for her when she walks through the door

would prefer to stay in together than go out, but she's all about compromise here is her baby wants to be taken out

is a little guilty of having her assistant remind her of important dates or will have them run to buy anniversary/birthday/apology gifts

but its mostly in the beginning when there's a lot of drama and scandal surrounding their relationship

this might have all been me self projecting my dream relationship with my dream woman but ohhhh well i love this pairing smmmm

[ccrisntok]

Your Masterminds, Whit Young, and Ace Markey! (mm! whace au)

(Spoilers lol)

what normal fellas ahahahahaha (I have poured my entire soul into these two there is nothing left of me)

A basic summary of their relationship:

Whit has spent like, over a year manipulating Ace into being complacent in his plans. In his own eyes, Ace is a sorta-stupid lacky, who he's constantly love-bombing to keep obedient. Although, he is a bit glad for the company... it was sorta empty when Ace was "dead" and they couldn't really talk. And maybe Ace almost dying from his fake execution was a bit disturbing. But he's sure its nothing! (He fell in love with him like a moron.)

Ace has fully fallen in love with Whit. He's not happy about it, but it happened. As a result, he's basically ruined any semblance of his own morality, just so he doesn't lose Whit, or the affection he knows is mostly performative. He's more than happy to kill his fuck-face classmates, after a... bit of prodding, and honestly, he'd do anything Whit asked at this point, even die. He'll still complain about it, though.

i tried to be as original as humanly possible, but I'm def giving credit to @talkativeanonymous, @acethehorseishere, and @a-blog-for-kat all for inspiring these two in one way or another (esp. a-blog-for-kat lol).

anyway there's the art, here's the promised lore. warning for like a million words. I'm serious. It's 1,400 words. you can stop here i don't blame you.

also sorry for the odd looking bullet points, didn't realize you couldn't have gaps lol!

This au operates on a probably un-canon assumption that I pulled out of my ass. That is that Mai Akasaki is both a student in the class of 27, and that she is the "time loop" student. She is usually a part of the killing game, but she isn't this time, for reasons I'll explain in a sec.

This specific loop, Mai is attempting to dissuade the (usual) mastermind from wanting to start a killing game in the first place. That mastermind is Whit Young.

She goes about this by trying to curb Whit's main reason for his descent into despair, his resounding loneliness, by giving him championship. Charles hasn't softened up to the others in any regard yet. But that wasn't the main reason, unbenouced to Mai.

In this loop, and this loop alone, Mai sets Whit and Ace up to be friends. She hopes they can help each other, since they usually end up more or less alone in their school life.

Surprisingly, it works. They get along decently well, although a codependency starts to develop on Ace's side.

Around this time, Whit takes up an internship at XF Future, which Mai doesn't realize. He innocently wants to explore other job options, "Matchmaking" not really being a stable career forever.

Obviously FX Future isn't a normal Tech Company. Whit starts to change, in a barely noticeable fashion, the longer he works there.

Ace notices Whit's contacts start looking a lot more vibrant after Whit takes a couple weeks off school for a "company trip." He thinks it's... sort of pretty.

(Whit's time at XF Future showed him a side of humanity he didn't realize existed. Insane levels of greed, using the concepts of "ultimates" to guide a stupid pubic where the Government wanted them, generally a dystopia. It feeds into his existing detachment from humanity, until he hits a breaking point, setting his sights on ending the "Ultimates" concept by killing the newest class in the public eye, including himself.)

(XF Future develops a new sort of technology, prosthetic "eyes" that basically turn you into a living remote control, able to connect to an entire building if its connected via a computer system. Security cameras, doors, fucking air conditioning- everything.

(Whit offers himself as the test dummy, and it goes perfectly.)

Anyway, Mai decides to talk to Ace, since she's starting to realize he's becoming a bit... softer after hanging out with Whit so much? And hopes like, for once, he'll actually accept help for his mountain of problems.

He doesn't take this conversation very well.

Mai, with knowledge from dozens of loops, accidentally brings up an extremely traumatic event, simply mentioning the name "Tyler" once.

In a blinding mix of rage and horror at Mai's knowledge of the event, that Ace has literally never even spoken about in this timeline, Ace shoves her away from him.

She falls backwards, and splits her head on a desk, killing her instantly.

Ace, in a horrified frenzy, calls Whit, literally his only friend.

Whit shows up. Ace expects him to freak the fuck out, call the cops, or something like that... But he doesn't.

Whit simply tells him they were going to hide the body together, not even remotely caring about Mai's death.

yeah that's a little fucking weird, and its terrifying, but going to jail is scarier sooo Ace goes along with it!

After this, Whit wraps Ace into uncharacteristically cruel pranks against some of their classmates and others at Hopes Peak, oftentimes resulting in physical injury.

He acts like these are completely normal and funny, while Ace is both freaked out by it, and sort of enjoys enacting pain on people he didn't like.

Along the way, Whit notices Ace starting to fall for him. Horrible news for Ace, since Whit plays into those emotions by becoming much more physically and emotionally affectionate. Which he doesn't enjoy, like, at all... not a bit...

Whit convinces Ace to assist him in greater and greater acts of violence until Whit just straight up kills someone (not a classmate, a stranger.)

Ace is of course tied into everything way too deep to stop now, and after all this... he doesn't really want to. So he stays as Whit's accomplice for months, up until Whit's weirdo behavior arrives at the idea of the killing game. He references the "First Killing Game", which Ace had never heard of.

The idea is a bit intense for Ace, but at that point, he didn't have anything beyond Whit. If it took this to stay with him... He'd do it. Even if in the end, they both were going to die.

So they get to work!

Ace had been taking engineering classes at Hope's Peak in hopes of getting out of jockeying, and he'd helped his family build sheds and shit since he was a kid, so he focused on the construction and executions.

Whit wired the building an all-encompassing computer system he could control, as well as stealing "Mono-TV" from XF Future, a robot he can fully control to be the "host" of the game.

He also steals the "mind wiping" technology from XF Future. It's weirdly easy to steal stuff from this company, hm? It's almost like they aren't protecting it...

Whit also uses another piece of experimental biological technology... on Ace.

A screen connected to his brain, a lottt less invasive than Whit's eye surgery. It doesn't impact Ace mentally, it just gives him the ability to produce visible projections for easy construction, communicate with Whit remotely, (and give Whit a way to always know what Ace's condition.)

The screen is unclipped when the game starts, but the brain implant is still connected to Whit, so he can detect Ace's condition.

After kidnapping the class of 27 and wiping their memories... It all starts. A killing game, streamed live to the entire nation.

Whit and Ace start off as a part of the class, interacting with the others like normal, a pretty decent show. Things go roughly as planned, putting everyone in the positions Whit wanted them. Untilll... chapter 2.

Ace gets his ass jumped, and almost dies prematurely. This is fine, Whit privately makes sure the wounds properly cleaned, but it does fill Whit with an... ominous feeling.

Ace still kills Arei, a part of the plan, and gets "executed", so he can more easily upkeep the executions and such behind the scenes.

After the screen playing the fake execution turns off, Whit checks to make sure Ace didn't get injured in his running around... but can't detect anything.

At all.

Ace's heart wasn't beating.

He actually, seriously, had a fucking heart attack.

(Ace's heart attack was for a combination of reasons. Firstly, his heart was actually in pretty bad condition as a result of his eating disorder, something Whit had figured was "over" by now. It wasn't!)

(Second, in that moment, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Whit could have been double-crossing him came to Ace. What if Whit loaded the guns? What if Ace's use was done, and Whit was finally getting rid of him? It was terrifying because he could die, and terrifying because... It'd make sense. It was all that ever happened to him.)

So he had a heart attackkk lameeeeee

This makes Whit tweak the fuck out, internally. (lol pretend his spooky ass sprite happens AFTER the execution, not before. shh its all made up its all pretend)

After Levi gets taken to the infirmary, Whit drops Charles off at his room as quickly as he can, then fucking BOLTS IT to a hidden passageway in his room to the like... Mastermind area, with the execution chamber.

Whit manages to resuscitate Ace in time, barely. And even after that, he's in pretty bad condition. But he's conscious and mobile.

Whit gets him as comfortable as he can, and after spending the night, he sort of... has to leave. He does some tweaks to Ace's brain screen thing, creating a functional heart monitor that Ace (and he) can watch.

As often as he can, Whit sneaks off to the Mastermind area at night to make sure Ace doesn't fucking die in his sleep. But Ace gets... decently better quickly, and returns to his duties overseeing the killing game.

Whit still visits almost every night to make sure Ace wakes up, which he can't really explain to himself. Ace was... supposed to be disposable anyway. Why would it matter if he died?

Anyway yeah the rest of the game happens. No clue there.

In the end, Whit and Ace come out as masterminds (happy pride).

I have a comic planned for how the end goes, soooo... that's it!

holy fuck! my fingers! hi the whole 2 people who made it down this far... uh... did you like my lore.....? do you want me dead now for having you read 1,400 words of two evil homsexuals...? 😅 love you thank you im sorry.

[clockwayswrites]

Rumors of a Prince

“You could always ask Jason to pay her a visit,” Dick said from where he was lounging, mostly upside down, on the couch in Bruce’s study.

Bruce frowned at him. “I am not going to have Jason kill Vickie Vale.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said kill!” Dick held his hands up or, rather, given his position, down. “I just meant puts some fear into her. Maybe kidnap her for a few days so that she can’t write any more libel.”

Bruce found himself smiling, slightly and against his better judgment. It faded away when he looked back at his laptop. “At least in this case, it wouldn’t do much good. The stories is already out there and, unfortunately, Vale’s take on it has captured the public’s attention.”

“Tim knows I bet… and Babs.”

“Undoubtedly by now.”

“And if those two know, Steph knows. If Steph knows, she’s ranted to Cass.”

“Yes.” This family was impossible to keep things secret in.

“Welp,” Dick said and swung himself to be sitting up normally— or as normally as Dick ever sat. “Then I guess we better tell the others. How do you want to divide this?”

Bruce was grateful that Dick was willing to be his partner in this. “You would be best to take Jason. I’ll speak with Damian. Either of us can catch Duke when he returns from his patrol.”

Dick nodded. “And Tom?”

“I think perhaps it would be best to have as much of the family in the manor as possible,” Bruce said after a moment. “If he destabilizes, I want him to know that we are around and that he is still safe.”

“Alright.” Dick slapped his knees once and stood. “I’ll drag Jason back then. You know he’ll come if it’s for Tom.”

“Make sure he reads the article before he comes over.”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be best. I’m going to bring some food too over with me. Good luck convincing Dami that he can’t go and stab Vickie Vale.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick chirped as he left for his task.

Bruce dropped his hand.

‘Gotham’s Pale Prince’ stared back at him from the screen.

-

“Seriously?!” Jason burst in through the kitchen door. “Have you read this swill?”

“Yes chum, of course I have,” Bruce said. He shot Dick, who trailing behind Jason’s fury, a look. Dick was supposed to get Jason to read the article before coming over.

Dick just shrugged helplessly and motioned in a way that conveyed Jason had read it and was still clearly quite upset.

“One of the biggest questions is,” Jason said, clearly reading now from the article with the air of Bristol accent he had put on, “perhaps, why the newest Wayne is not in school. Bruce has proven himself to be a champion of the educational system. This is despite the man himself being a college drop out’ like what the fuck?”

“To be fair, I am,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued. “His oldest ward’— Dick is fucking adopted now, bitch!”

“Boo!” Steph echoed and tossed popcorn at the tablet Jason was holding.

(Bruce was neither sure when Stephanie had arrived nor where she got the popcorn.)

“Never going to college,” Jason said with a jab of his free hand, “and the second oldest never completing high school.’ I was dead you narrow minded shew!”

“Well, I mean, all she knows is that you were supposedly kidnapped by terrorists and tortured for years,” Dick said. He had moved over to help himself to Stephanie’s popcorn and paused raising the next handful to his face. “Okay, no, that’s actually worse.”

“And you are clear on your line that I cannot stab this woman for the dishonor she implies about the family?” Damian asked, again, as he joined them in the kitchen.

“Unfortunately we have to handle this the proper way, with a press conference,” Bruce said. Stabbing was looking increasingly appealing though.

Jason dropped into one of the open chairs. “I’d call it a battle of the wits, but I don’t think Vale has any left with this trash she’s writing!”

“Alright,” Tim said as he entered the kitchen with almost as much fury as Jason, just more contained. Cass followed in his wake. “I am sure that B has already run through no killing, no stabbing, no maiming, no poisoning—”

“No poisoning Vickie Vale,” Bruce said, feeling so tired.

“Way to go, Timbit, now we can’t poison her,” Jason groused.

Tim sighed, “Fair, I shouldn’t have assumed. I really thought someone else would have brought it up already.”

“People went for more bloody options,” Dick explained.

“Also fair,” Tim said, pointing at him. “Anyways, since we can’t do all that, can I ruin her reputation?”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed.

“Now come on old man, let’s here Timtam out,” Jason said, holding out his arm. “You said yourself we had to handle the proper way and I’m sure that our little socialite here knows just how to ruin her through something like a press conference.”

“You I can stab,” Tim said with a shark sharp smile towards Jason.

Jason returned it with a smile like broken glass. “You can try.”

“Oh, if you keep calling me a socialite I will try and I will manage.”

“Boys, please.”

“Are people threatening blood and violence again?”

Every head in the room swiveled towards the door to the hall.

Tom almost recoiled at the sudden attention of all of the family, taking a half step back and looking a little wide eyed.

Cass walked forward and wrapped her arm around Tom’s. “Tim is. To Jason.”

It took a moment for Tom to tear his eyes away from the family to look at his sister. “Of course. What’s… it about this time?”

“Jason is reminding Tim that he’s a rich society brat and Tim hates to be reminded about that even though it’s true because Tim is also a little freak and the upper crust would be applaud if they knew even a fraction of it,” Steph said before she stuffed his mouth full of more popcorn.

Everyone in the room paused for a moment.

“No, yep, I think that’s pretty much spot on,” Dick said. He wasn’t even pretending not to laugh.

The laughter was infectious and almost everyone was either snickering or outright laughing. Bruce even quirked up a little smile. Tom still looked mostly confused but at least less nervous.

“Come sit by me, little shadow,” Dick said with a smile.

When Thomas settled next to Dick, who immediately wrapped an arm around him, the room settled again into that slightly somber mood.

“What is going on?” Tom asked, voice small. There were times when he still seemed unsure if he could be a presence in a room or consternation. It was something that they were still working on as a family.

Bruce sighed. “A reporter found out about you and wrote an article with mostly speculation. Unfortunately, because of who I am in the city and my existing tendency to adopt, it’s getting attention.”

Tom chewed on his lip and Bruce just hoped he wouldn’t worry it so much it bled. “Bad?”

“Not bad towards you, but unkind. She made a lot of guesses and fact reasons about why the public hasn’t seen you,” Bruce explained.

“Oh. Am I…?”

The dropping of words wasn’t the best sign. Dick pulled Tom into his lap.

“No. Most of the children didn’t attend the press conference announcing them and you don’t have to either. But I will need to make one simply to clear up some of rumors. I wont say anything that you don’t want me to say.”

“Bruce and I can plan it out,” Tim said, “and then run it by you if you want to look over it.”

“Can… will… if anyone wants to help…”

“Of course!” Dick said cheerfully. “We can make a lunch of it or something. It will be the best press conference yet.”

“Yeah. And you don’t even have to watch it,” Jason said. “We’ll plan something fun for that day. The old man can go and do the hard work and we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Bruce said dryly, pretending he wasn’t warmed still whenever Jason refereed to him as anything approaching father.

“It’s what you deserve,” Jason said and tossed his tablet, cleared of the article, on the table. “Come on, let’s plan what we’re going to do.”

“The zoo is always enjoyable,” Damian said.

“You always say zoo,” Cass pointed out as she perched next to Jason.

“What about the park?” Steph suggested. She joined the others at the table and passed around her popcorn.

“Nah, Ivy has a new variety of tulips. I’m worried some of them might turn man eating again,” Dick said.

“We could head out of Gotham I guess,” Jason pointed out and pulled up the map.

Bruce slipped quietly out of the room with Tim on his heels.

“You can stay with them and help them plan,” Bruce offered. Tim was always too grownup, had been since before he came to Bruce.

Tim just shook his head. “I’m never the best distraction. I’ll be more use to you. Besides, I have some plans to run by you that doesn’t need the blood thirsty contingency hearing about.”

“Of course you do,” Bruce said with both a sigh and a smile.

“Nothing physical,” Tim defended himself. “I can ruin her legally.”

“That I have no doubt of.”

No matter what, Bruce had absolutely no doubt that the family would be there for Tom. They were a family, after all.

---

AN: Vickie Vale won't know what hit her. Esp after what she wrote.

Don't know if this will become a full sequel or not, but it was fun to revisit this universe and see how they've progressed!

[dragoneyes618]

Suddenly, everywhere you look, the Jews are disappearing.

You feel it like a slow moving pressure system, an anxiety of exclusion and downward mobility. Maybe you first noticed it at your workplace. Or maybe it hit when you or your children applied to college or graduate school. It could have been something as simple as opening up the Netflix splash page. It’s gauche to count but you can’t help yourself: In academia, Hollywood, Washington, even in New York City—anywhere American Jews once made their mark—our influence is in steep decline.

For many Jews, the first instinct is to look inward: We blame intermarriage, assimilation, the loss of the immigrant work ethic. This is, of course, a cope. Because the most significant cause of the decline isn’t Jews themselves, but that American liberalism, our civic religion, has turned on us. Where Jewish success was once upheld as a sign of America’s strength and progress over its prejudices, Jewish “overrepresentation” is again something to be solved, not celebrated.

A tenure-track humanities professor at a prestigious public university tells of the finalists for her department’s next graduate school cohort. Of the 20 or so candidates, four to five are Jews. One is a working-class yeshivish applicant with an incredible backstory and even better recommendations. He is passed over for not being “diverse” enough. Of course our professor doesn’t complain— her own tenure is at risk. In the end, not a single Jew is offered admission.

Another Jewish professor applies to work in the UC system. In his mandatory diversity statement, which he describes as “the most shameful piece of writing I’ve ever done,” his sole aim is to convey the impression that he hopes to be the last Jewish man they ever hire. He still doesn’t get the job.

And why would he? Using YouGov data, Eric Kaufmann finds that just 4% of elite American academics under 30 are Jewish (compared to 21% of boomers). The steep decline of Jewish editors at the Harvard Law Review (down roughly 50% in less than 10 years) could be the subject of its own law review article.

The same pattern holds across America’s elite institutions: a slow-moving downward trend from the 1990s to the mid-2010s—likely due to all sorts of normal sociological factors—and then a purge so sweeping and dramatic you almost wonder who sent out the secret memo.

Museum boards now diversify by getting Jews to resign. A well-respected Jewish curator at the Guggenheim is purged after she puts on a Basquiat show. At the Art Institute of Chicago, even the nice Jewish lady volunteers are terminated for having the wrong ethnic background. There’s an entire cottage industry of summer programs and fellowships and postdocs that are now off-limits to Jews.

In 2014 there were 16-20 Jewish artists featured at the Whitney Biennial. After a very public campaign against a Jewish board member with ties to the Israeli defense establishment, the curators got the message. The 2022 biennial featured just 1-2 Jews.

From 2010 through 2019 there were at least three Jews in every MacArthur Fellowship class, sometimes as many as five or six. The Forward would write effusive columns celebrating the year’s Jewish geniuses. Since 2020, just 0-1 Jews a year have been awarded grants. The Forward hasn’t bothered to take note.

Today American Jews watch with Solomonic bemusement as Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard is argued before the Supreme Court. On some level we sympathize with the Asian American plaintiffs, who are suing Harvard for using admissions criteria that discriminate against them on the basis of their race. Maybe they really are the new Jews, facing the same barriers—insidious racism, personality scores, rural geographic preferences—that we once did.

On the other hand, fancying ourselves to be high caste members of a beneficent elite, we pretend not to notice that “diversity, equity, and inclusion” is a cudgel used to exclude certain groups of Americans, including Asians and Jews. Desperate to maintain their waning status within the liberal coalition, Jewish communal organizations ignore these contradictions. Once a protector of specifically Jewish interests but now secure in its new role as handmaiden to power, the Anti-Defamation League filed an amicus brief—in support of Harvard.

In the 1940s, the ADL took a different tack. For decades unofficial quotas at most Ivy League universities limited Jews to around 10% of the student body, despite evermore qualified Jewish applicants. Jewish organizations made it their mission to break this invisible barrier and by the end of the 1950s the quotas were a dead letter. The long summer of American Jewish success had begun.

But the seasons always change. A FIRE/Yougov survey found that self-identified Jews now number just 7% of Ivy League students, compared to 10% during the height of the antisemitic quotas.

In his gripping podcast Gatecrashers, about the history of Jews in the Ivy League, Mark Oppenheimer describes the troubled state of Jewish campus life. Harvard has gone from being 25% Jewish in the 1990s and 2000s to under 10% today. “In theory it could be the case that Jews are the same percentage of whites at Harvard as they always were,” he explains. “But Harvard has not shrunk the number of athletes it admits […] and they’ve kept their geographical diversity. So if you’re a Jewish kid who’s not an athlete and not a legacy and not from Wyoming … then there’s not much room left for you.”

According to the Hillel College Guide, Penn’s Jewish population declined from 26% in 2015 to 17% in 2021; NYU’s dropped from 24% to 13%. Princeton, Columbia, and Cornell have seen smaller but significant declines (Brown and Dartmouth, with different institutional priorities, are by all accounts happy exceptions).

Data from the Yale Chaplain’s Office—which appears to be the only Ivy League university that still tracks religious affiliation—shows a similar trend: The Jewish population went from 19.9% in the 2000s to 16.4% in the 2010s. A couple of years ago, the school’s chaplain told Meir Chaim Posner, the Chabad rabbi at Yale, that around 11% of Yale undergraduates were Jewish. “It’s dropped slightly since then,” Rabbi Posner told me in November.

“The university has decided that DEI is the overarching principle of admissions,” one Hillel director told me. “There’s a general consensus that it’s more difficult for Jewish students to get into top tier schools.” Nor is this difficulty confined to secular Jews—the modern Orthodox population has also crashed. A college counselor at a top Jewish day school reports that as universities have revamped enrollment and gone test-optional, the number of Orthodox students has decreased. “Every year has been harder,” he said. “Our ability to thoughtfully predict the likelihood of admission has gone way down.”

An uneasy omertà settles in. The Ivies skip college nights at Jewish day schools they visited for decades. At Penn there used to be two daily minyans—now there’s one. There are hushed whispers that if current trends hold, some of these colleges might no longer be able to support an Orthodox community at all.

The 1999 Hillel College Guide now reads like a map to a lost civilization. Harvard and Yale have 1,500 Jewish undergrads apiece. There are 5,000 Jewish students and grad students at Columbia, 6,000 at Penn, 14,000 at NYU. It’s hard to imagine that as recently as 2008, articles were being written about the “race” to attract Jewish students.

What was normal less than two decades ago sounds like a siren call from a distant golden age. To even suggest that a 15%-20% Jewish undergraduate student body might be acceptable in a country in which Jews make up 2.4% of the total population is anathema in today’s liberal society.

The 1999 Hillel College Guide now reads like a map to a lost civilization.

In New York—the seat of American Jewish political power—there are almost no Jews left in power. A decade ago the city had five Jewish congressmen, a Jewish mayor, two Jewish borough presidents, and 14 Jewish City Council members. Today just two congressmen and a single borough president remain. Only six Jews now sit on the 51-person City Council. Shelly Silver, the corrupt Orthodox former State Assembly leader, was replaced by Yuh-Line Niou, a pro-BDS “progressive” whose oligarch father was featured in the Panama Papers. Not even the Lower East Side Tenement Museum is recognizably Jewish anymore.

“What you have is a lack of identity of Jews as Jews,” the Democratic political consultant Hank Sheinkopf told The Washington Post. “And they don’t have the power to ensure that there’s more than one Jewish congressman. It’s astounding.”

Younger Jews are being excluded from the liberal organizations their parents and grandparents helped create. Identitarian meltdowns roil the progressive world. The Women’s March, the ACLU, and the SPLC all get rid of Jewish leadership. There will be no more “Mighty Iras” in our lifetime. Not even the Jewish president of the Audubon Society is safe.

There are still powerful Jews in Washington—neo-Nazis on Twitter like to post photos of Biden’s cabinet—but the influence is waning. Is it a coincidence that in the U.S. Senate (a handsy group of old men if ever there was one) the only senator forced to resign during the #MeToo panic happened to be Jewish? Or that activists pushed for Dianne Feinstein’s resignation for the explicit reason that she be replaced by someone who isn’t Jewish?

Of the 114 federal judges appointed by Joe Biden (as of this writing), just 8-9 appear to be Jewish—in a field that’s historically been at least 20% Jewish. Liberals worship Ruth Bader Ginsburg as a magical Jewish Teletubby, but they wouldn’t dare nominate another “white woman” to the highest court anytime soon. We are back to the single Jewish seat on the court.

Apparently Jews have so much power and influence that the highest-ranking Jewish senator in history finds it too politically difficult to hire a 22-year-old version of himself. There were at least 15 Jews on Chuck Schumer’s staff of 64 in 2014. After facing pressure for not being diverse enough, and despite an enlarged staff of 89, he can no longer make a minyan.

In Los Angeles—America’s second most Jewish city—there are now just two Jewish City Council members, down from six in 2000. In last year’s infamous dustup, Nury Martinez, the sharp-tongued council president, had despicable things to say about Black people, Oaxacans, even Armenians—but Jews were barely a footnote. “Judíos cut their deal with South LA,” she said. “They are gonna screw everybody else.”

It’s gauche to count but you can’t help yourself: In academia, Hollywood, Washington, even in New York City—anywhere American Jews once made their mark—our influence is in steep decline.

Speaking of LA, a decade ago there were 22 Jews on The Hollywood Reporter’s annual list of the Top 50 Showrunners. In 2022, that’s down to 13. Other than the half-Jewish (and already famous) Maggie Gyllenhaal, you’d have to go back six years to find a single Jew on Variety’s annual list of 10 Directors to Watch.

Thanks to the odious new Hollywood house style that requires a detailed ethnic and racial classification at the top of all capsule biographies, we can see just how many self-identified Jews are in the Sundance writers and directors labs, or the NBC, Paramount, and Disney writers and apprenticeship programs—it is zero. It seems not being Jewish is actually a primary qualification. So much for Jewish control of Hollywood.

The decline is so rapid—and the golden age so close to living memory—it’s a running joke. On the latest season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David meets with a group of younger non-Jewish studio executives to convince them to cast a Mexican American girl as Young Larry’s Jewish love interest. On Reboot, Steve Levitan’s Hulu show, an old guard of Jewish sitcom writers clash uncomfortably with their younger and woker—and noticeably non-Jewish—colleagues.

Not even Hollywood’s Jewish history belongs to Jews anymore. The new Academy Museum, dedicated to “radical inclusivity” and paid for with Haim Saban’s Jewish money, couldn’t bring itself to include Hollywood’s Jewish founders. In Babylon, Damian Chazelle’s epic flop about Hollywood’s golden age, the director follows an ahistorical Mexican studio executive and an Asian American lesbian rather than any of the very real Jewish moguls or screenwriters or directors of the era. What’s telling isn’t that Chazelle ignored Jews (anyone can do that) but that not a single reviewer bothered to notice this “erasure.” The culture has moved on.

What remains of Jewish Hollywood lives on borrowed time. Spielberg can make his Fabelmans, James Gray his Armageddon Time, but only because these are nostalgia pieces. Soon there will be no more RBG’s, no more Spielbergs, just a few off-brand Seinfelds doing a heritage act. There will certainly never be another Larry King or Andy Borowitz, Jews of such astounding mediocrity you wonder what was in the water.

In the 1950s, after Stalin’s death, after the purges, the Politburo turned to another pressing issue: the overrepresentation of Jews in Soviet life. Proportional representation (3% Tajik! 2% Uzbek! 12% Ukrainian!) became official policy, and the next decade saw the quick erosion of the Jewish nomenklatura. Soviet Jews—who had disproportionately contributed to and benefited from the building of the communist state—had outlived their usefulness.

A 1964 New York Times article explained that because Soviet republics assigned a certain number of students “preferential admission” based on their nationalities, other nationalities—aka Jews—were excluded. “A higher percentage of Jewish students was permitted to attend universities in Czarist Russia than is enrolled in the USSR today,” an outraged American Jewish Congress declared. “The 8.2% of university graduates who are Jews contrasts sharply with the present Jewish university enrollment of 3.22%.”

As true believers in the postwar liberal project, American Jews spent decades advocating for tolerance and equality of opportunity, not least because we were the prime beneficiaries. The ADL didn’t fight the quotas in the 1950s so Jews could matriculate in proportion to their percentage of the population. But there’s a tension between meritocracy and representation. The new DEI regime treats any disparity between groups as evidence of unfair advantage—and yet we’re supposed to think it’s a coincidence that Jewish representation plummets at the exact moment America frantically pushes to racially rebalance all high-status industries.

Because what is framed as a backlash against America’s “white” centers of power is in many cases a clever sleight of hand. Jews are being disproportionately purged from liberal institutions because Jews disproportionately exist within those institutions.

When activists and journalists and executives talk about how Broadway or NPR or publishing is “too white,” what they really mean is “too Jewish.” When The New York Times says it wants to make its internal demographics look more like New York City’s (excepting the Hasidim, of course), what this means is “fewer Jews.” Twenty years ago, if Pat Robertson spoke along these lines—making the same complaints about the same people and industries and institutions—there would have been a rush to condemn it as antisemitic. Today it passes for social justice.

In the 1960s and ’70s, facing hard barriers to their professional advancement, Soviet Jews lost the faith. The children and the grandchildren of the revolution tried to emigrate. When the authorities wouldn’t let them, American Jews rallied to their cause, created brand-new communal organizations, petitioned Congress, rallied thousands-strong outside the United Nations. Ours was a community confident in its power and confident in its future.

Asian Americans have the dignity of looking at admissions practices and demanding fair representation. The Jews, as ever, are a people apart. From civil rights to Vietnam to the spectacular bounty of their cultural and political achievements, liberal Jewish boomers always managed to be on the right side of history. It is a supreme irony that they’ve helped empower a movement that now places their children and grandchildren on the wrong side.

If Putin or Orban reduced their universities’ Jewish populations by 50%, the ADL would be howling. But Harvard and Yale can magically lose nearly half their Jewish students in less than a decade and we’ll take it on the chin. That this is occurring with the full acquiescence of a terrified liberal Jewish establishment should tell you just how much power Jews in America still have.

[ekjohnston]

hi! I want to buy the Ahsoka novel, but you mentioned in one of your posts that you don't get royalties from it. I want to support you more directly, and frankly I don't want to send my money to disney execs. what can I do for books like that to better support the actual author? (I love your SW books btw <3)

Hi! Thank you for asking this question. The answer is...complicated (as it always is when art and capitalism intersect).

Right now the best way to support me is to buy AETHERBOUND and talk about it a lot. With everyone. (Your indie bookseller, especially if you have them order you a copy! Your librarian, school or public! And if they don't have it, most libraries have a request system, too!) But tell all your friends. And maybe also your enemies, if they have large tik tok followings. :)

I haven't earned out on it yet (so my royalties still go towards my advance), but the sequel, SKY ON FIRE, comes out next year, so sales for Aetherbound + preorders and buzz for SKY = Penguin paying attention to me, which is great.

(Also, if you get books from the library--no matter the format--that is also fantastic for me. If you're in Canada, I literally get paid for it, and if you're somewhere else, the library might order more copies, AND you're helping them build a community!)

So yeah: AETHERBOUND. (Oh, and Ashley Eckstein does the audio for it, too! So double bonus!)

Details and various purchasing options across NA.

(ALSO, I don't want you to feel bad if you do pay corporations because 1. it's kind of inescapable, and 2. if they see i have a good sales record, they are more likely to hire me again for, say, a Qi'ra sequel, and I have a mortgage now, so...)

[turbulentscrawl]

Modern AU: Norton Campbell

You've heard of modern reader? Well now it's time for Modern canon!

- Previously, he worked in the oil industry, but a nasty accident he doesn’t speak about has left him with his fair share of burn scars. Norton now works as an independent contractor, known around town as a do-it-all type of handyman. He rarely works with or for group projects, preferring to be hired directly by property owners for the work they need done. He’s his own boss, and he makes his own schedule, but he’s a workaholic.

- He was raised by his uncle Benny after his parents died when he was still very young—his mother shortly after childbirth, due to complications, and his father in a work-related accident. Benny’s health deteriorated fast, though, and as soon as he was legally able Norton picked up a part-time job to help pay the bills and build a college fund. (Or several, more like, and he was known to bounce around for better pay.)

-Some time in his senior year of high school, he discovered that Benny was keeping secrets; Benny had not only convinced his father to stay in the oil industry after he was born, but wasted and gambled away all the life insurance money from his death. Enraged and betrayed, Norton dropped out of school and left. He drove as far away as he could with the little money he had, and then lived out of his truck for a while. Eventually, he made enough money to rent a shitty little motel room by the week, and then a shitty little apartment.

-After leaving, he at first went into the oil industry like his old man and Benny had been—it was something he was familiar enough with and hard labor paid better than being a busboy again. But after a few years there was an accident which left him with several burn scars. He was left in pain for a long time, but the worker’s comp paid for most of his medical bills and his rent, giving him just enough time to get his GED. After that, he started into construction, plumbing, and other handiman things he was knowledgeable in after years of being poor and self-sufficient.

-The accident, this time, was more of an ACTUAL accident. Norton had a disagreement with some of the coworkers he hated. There was an altercation, and something ignited…and Norton was the only one who got out. He doesn’t talk about it, mostly out of shame and a sense of guilt, but he copes by telling himself they deserved it.

- He drives the same beat-up old pickup truck Benny bought for him as a kid. It was transferred into his name when he was 18, so Benny can’t swipe it from under his nose. (Legally, anyway.) He could probably get a loan and buy a new car, but at this point he prefers to keep the old hunk of junk. Maybe he’s sentimental, or maybe the weekly maintenance he has to do on it is just therapeutic in a way.

-Not a super techy guy. He keeps up with industry news and learns new skills often, but his truck, his phone, and most of his home appliances are older. He’s good enough with fixing things that he hasn’t bothered to replace them.

-He’s not much of a decorator, either, but he’s good at thrifting and building his own furniture with recycled materials. His apartment/home is a bit of a hodgepodge, with mostly bare walls, but what he does have I impressive in its own way. Any décor he has is likely gifted.

-He’d like to own a home one day, but he’s playing things by ear. He realizes that might be asking a lot while he’s got no real support system.

-He’s a fair cook, but a lot of what he makes could be called “struggle meals.” They’re what he’s been used to for a long time.

-He’s a little paranoid about pumping gas into his truck, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. On his days off, he tends to walk to take public transit to save some money and gas mileage.

-He’s that guy with a 7-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, bodywash etc men’s soap. Someone please teach him better ways.

[librarycards]

do you have any advice for trying to build/find a community? i’m autistic with pretty severe social anxiety and haven’t had friends since grade 5 (i’m 29 now). i don���t work atm and didn’t go to college due to ‘mental illness’ or whatever. i’m really clueless about how to find a support system or even make a friend but it sure would be beneficial right now i think

sure! a great way to start is to get on some of your local facebook pages, or even nextdoor - it can be a shitty place for neighborhood karens, but at least my local page has people talking about free stuff they're leaving on the curb, someone whose grandma needs a ride, a bake sale at the school, and even meetups dependent on age/interest/etc.

some more ideas, starting w the obligatory: GO TO THE LIBRARY! they have so much centralized info there. there is probably a book club, there is probably some kind of volunteer sign-up sheet. there are probably bored librarians who can help you find other stuff. at least in my area, there are also fairly regular non-university-affiliated things (i live in a college town) at local bars, cafes, and art spaces/studios - check to see if there are any local IG pages posting about these events. that's how i found out about a bunch of mine. libraries have events, too, as do local bookstores, and they're almost always free.

the suggestions i'm throwing out all have basically the same goal: mix with people you haven't met before. building bonds takes time, and the process only starts when you and someone else say hello to one another. you don't have to be besties ever. you don't necessarily have to stay close. but knowing one person who maybe likes the same book as you, or shares some other interest, leads to more people, and soon you know someone who has a car, someone who has an extra ironing board, someone who can host a get-together in their yard because everyone else is a renter. support systems aren't found. they're not easy or inevitable. they're built through collective engagement and practice! and they start, generally, by happenstance, when people put themselves in each others' way.

when i moved here alone in 2020, i met some of my now-closest friends not primarily through grad school events (which didn't happen bc of lockdowns and such) but through going to the park and saying hi outdoors; stocking food in our local free fridges, and meeting tinder-friend dates masked, 6 ft apart in random public places. we kept doing that and our relationships strengthened, as they do. these days, i meet people through the friends i have - through shared classes back when i was in coursework, through organizing/union stuff and volunteering, through the occasional social event i just kinda show up at and hope for the best. there's a degree of inertia to this stuff - it gets smoother the more you do it!

you are *NOT* the only person around you who needs a friend. i promise. people are really lonely and often scared to admit it, and this is a great time to connect with people who also feel the urgency of community + anxiety around making it happen.