#pay no attention to time flying by before the end of the week

[readwritealldayallnight]

Something something you’ve been seeing this new guy for a few weeks now, sparks aren’t flying between you two but he’s hot, pays for your drinks, only mostly stares at your tits when you’re talking, and best of all he consistently fucks your brains out at the end of each date, so you’re in no rush to break things off yet

Something something he asks you out on another date but says his car is stuck in the shop for a while, asks if you wouldn’t mind being a ‘real bonnie lass’ and picking him up from work, swearing up and down that he’ll make it worth your while in bed tonight

Something something you’re surprised when the address he gave you is a well fortified military base, unable to recall if he’d ever mentioned what his job was in the first place, but visions of his mohawk between your legs tonight silences any apprehension as you pull through the gates

Something something you shoot him a text from your car to let him know that you’re here, but the reception is shoddy and you end up walking around a bit in hopes of finding better connection so the message can go through

Something something you’re focused on your phone screen, smiling to yourself when you finally see the text become delivered, hardly noticing when you walk into a brick wall of a man, dropping your phone to the ground

Something something you both bend down to pick it up at the same time, hands connecting and instant sparks flying through your fingers, letting out a genuine laugh when you end up knocking your forehead against his and falling on your butt

Something something the tall, masked stranger offers you a hand up, never letting go of you as you start talking, the two of you hitting it off instantaneously, hardly paying attention to the sky around you steadily growing darker and darker, each word slipping past his lips in that deep, gravelly Manchester accent of his has you forgetting why you were here in the first place, until he asks

Something something, you explain you’re here to pick up a friend for what’s supposed to be a fourth or fifth date, though you don’t see things going much further, especially now that mister tall, dark and handsome is standing before you, a vision plucked straight out of your wildest fantasies brought to life

Something something, Johnny finally looks away from the recruits long enough to see to see your text, unaware that his plan to show you off as his newest sweet piece of ass to his mates has quickly turned into his Lieutenant stealing his girl right out from under his nose

[supernatural-bias]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

[jedisupernova]

life with choi subong (thanos)

notes minors dni contains life before games, fem and aged up reader (same age as subong), always written with plus size reader in mind but truly anyone can read, a lot of made up lore to fill in gaps & build dynamic between subong and reader, smut (no distinct section. it is imbedded throughout; sexting, dirty talk, oral f and m receiving, vignettes of sub!subong, handjob, p in v, non-protective sex (don't be stupid,) public sex, foreplay, squirting), angst (lying, deception, miscommunication, arguing and gaslighting: cursing, pushing each other, one body shaming remark, a lot of name calling, insults, mentions of death, just being mean; this does not having a happy ending), toxic dynamic, mentions of drinking, drug use, problematic reader if you squint, i don't know how crypto works so don't yell at me, blatantly problematic subong, reader deserves better, a lot of dumbassery and some typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this is also my very first post, and i want to show what i can do! this is really long. like, really long. this is my interpretation of the character, i hope you like it and please be nice!

he was the nail that chipped the day after you painted them; the incessant promotional email that never filtered to the spam folder; the fly you repeatedly missed when swatting; the shoelaces that always came undone; the built up phlegm after a particularly nasty cough; the shirt that shrunk when you left it in the dryer too long. but what could you say? the dick was too fucking bomb ...

you met on the night of your friend's birthday. some time past eleven thirty pm on a saturday night at some dimly-lit nightclub in itaewon, you nursed a margarita, chatting with your friends and paying no mind to the re-arranging happening on the small stage some feet away from your table—a couple of speakers and a mic stand—nor did you look when the club manager made a half-assed announcement, followed by his exit and an old school hip hop instrumental filling the acoustics of the club.

subong was performing that night after begging the manager for weeks on end. it was a particularly difficult feat, considering the rap battle night he and seven other underground artists were part of two months prior ended in a fist fight after a set of insensitive bars about subong's opponent's family lineage spewed from his mouth without remorse. oh, can't forget the time he stole three bottles of cuervo tequila, or when he got so high he squirted someone in the eye with lime because they looked at him funny, or when he left such a monstrous shit in the toilet that he ended up flooding the bathroom when trying to flush.

alas, alas ... the melon streaming numbers spoke for itself (over 95k streams in total for his most recent mixtape), he just reached 10k followers on instagram, and all attention is good attention if you know how to work it ... and subong did, considering bookings went up when he announced he'd be performing this weekend prior to getting approval, cornering the club manager into a checkmate.

you noticed the slight commotion reverberating through the crowd when the music blared, but not enough to divert your attention wholly. when his set finished, he snuck into the crowd, snagging a rogue bloody mary from the bar and downing it without hesitation, turning his head sharply when someone from your party shouted his name.

your friend's boyfriend went to high school with him and hadn't seen him in years. with the way subong reacted, you would've thought they saw each other last week and were the best of friends, slinging his arm around his shoulders and capturing the attention of your table in a flurry. he was overtly charismatic, slowly coming around to your side of the table, eyeing you up and down without an iota of shame. he liked what he saw—his tongue running over his bottom lip.

he looked a bit try hard-y, in his loose fitting clothing, singular golden chain, and his black hair in an awkward stage of a grown out buzz cut—but admittedly he was fine. then you saw the layer of sweat shining on his tan skin ... oh ... he's fine.

"you like what you saw?" he shouted over the music, placing his hand on the table, inching towards you. he gestured to the now empty stage with a subtle flick of his head, leaning in to hear you. "that was you?" you said back. "i'm sorry, i wasn't watching!"

subong smirked, thinking you were joking, but his ego inflated nonetheless. "i—i rap!" he shouted, laying his palm against his chest. "i don't!" you quipped back with a grand smile, shaking your head. he had no idea his dick could get hard that quickly. "i work at a firm!" you say.

it could have been the sight of your glossed lips .. or his big brown eyes .. or your curvy hips .. full thighs .. his tattooed hands .. or the way his lips brushed against your earlobe for you to hear him .. or how your fingers brushed his hair back so he could hear you .. but next thing you know, his lips caught yours, and the next thing after that, his knees were on the porcelain tiles of the bathroom stall, head caught between your plush thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved.

subong's arms held your waist in place, not stopping your back from arching or your hands grasping onto either the wall or his hair, your breathy moans making his jeans feel as if he was wearing tight spandex. when you came—and you came hard—he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into your hand, "number. now."

"fucking christ, i just came." you said, breathing labored. "hold on." when he stood up, you reached down, pulling your underwear up. you eyed the time on his phone whilst adding your number to his contacts, sending yourself a text. you caught sight of his bulge when you gave his phone back. "you'll have to take care of that yourself. i have to go." you say, running your hands through your hair in an effort to not look too disheveled, even if your friends were smart enough to put two and two together.

you noticed subong take a prolonged look at you. he read your mind: "taking a mental photo for later." he explained, inhaling sharply through his nose. a smirk tugged at your lips. "oh yeah? i'll make it 4d." you palmed his bulge. he nearly lost balance, his gasp sounding more vulnerable than he would've liked—"f-fuck—ngh!" he bit his bottom lip, planting his forehead against yours. your touch was slow and calculated but firm, applying enough pressure to make his vision go fuzzy. "you're f-fucking crazy," his voice shook pathetically, eyebrows contorted in deep pleasure. "y-you f-fucking—ngh!—crazy bitch!"

you stopped abruptly, grabbing subong through his pants harshly. he mewled pathetically in pain. "call me that shit one more time and see what happens." "i'm s-sorry! f-fuck, i'm sorry! i'm sorry! please!" his breath hitched. "oh my fuck—please, baby, i'm so sorry!"

you gradually began palming him again, feeling his deep breath brush against your skin as his forehead returned to yours. his lips eventually latched onto yours, and you couldn't help your thighs rubbing together from how long and slender he felt in your hand.

your phone started to ring in your purse, which hung off the hook at the top of the bathroom stall door, undoubtedly a friend looking for you. you broke the kiss and ceased your touch, stepping around him and fishing your phone out before slinging your purse over your shoulder. "you better fucking call me." you say, kissing his lips again. "i will, will."

you eye his tent. it looks like it hurts and the zipper could break off. you didn't even realise you were biting your bottom lip until your phone rang again. "best dick i'll ever have." subong heard you mutter as you walked away, his cocky smirk stretching across his face in no time. he bit his lip when he saw the wet spot on his jeans. unbeknownst to either of you, this night would become the defining vignette of your relationship.

he called you the very next day. when you didn't answer—because your phone was charging on your nightstand whilst you showered—he sent a dick pic with the bottom half of his face visible in the upper left corner with the accompanying text: Like what u see? he chuckled reading your response: should have kept it a surprise

from that point on he spent his spare money (he didn't have much to begin with) on e-cigarette refills, pills, eyebrow threading appointments (he swore you to secrecy), and, perhaps his most beloved purchase, condoms. he always kissed the wrapper before putting one on.

subong tries to give the impression of someone who fucks but the reality is .... well .... he wonders how he got so lucky whenever he's stood at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it after he's knocked. it's been a lot longer than he'd ever admit under sworn oath, but his erratic thrusts gave it away so quickly it was concerning.

don't get it twisted, it felt ... fine. maybe okay on a good day. he filled you up at the very least! but if only it could last longer ... and didn't feel so ... jabby ... and if only you didn't have to keep in your laughter when his forehead fell to your shoulder ... after he came so hard his vein bulged out of his temple and his breathing was deep enough to power a fucking windmill .. only for you to glance at the time on your phone when a notif popped up and think to yourself ... has it really only been four minutes?

so when he's thrusting into you from behind one night, panting like someone's choking him and drilling into you feverishly, you take his temporary halt to catch his breath as your moment. "subong..." your voice ruminates with lust, aided by the intoxicating feeling of his cock resting inside you. you look over your shoulder at his glistening body, illuminated even in your dimly lit bedroom. "you feel so good, baby." you half-lie, internally cringing. either way, he can't tell, he's too fucked out.

"but how about we ... go a little slower? so we can last longer? hm?" you say. his breath hitches when you roll your hips slowly, his palms laying against either globes of your ass lifelessly. you were struggling to keep it together, eyebrows contorted and mouth agape, stretching yourself out on him.

"like this, yeah?—mmf!" you bite your lip. this is the feeling you've been wanting ... you've been aching for. "it'll feel so much better, subong ..." "yeah, yeah ..." he was breathy. his palms slid to either side of your hips, pulling himself in slow and deep. you gasp, "yes! like that! start slow, then go faster ..."

the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips ran every single porno he's ever seen into the ground. he pounded into you when you told him to, feeling the gumminess of your tight walls hug his cock so divinely that he felt for a split second that maybe, just maybe, the cross he always wore served a different purpose than carrying his stash of pills. subong, unsurprisingly, did not last long, but for the first time, you didn't either. "b-baby! f-fuck—i'm gonna, i'm gonna!—" you clenched around him, and he saw white. subong thought he had transcended ... what better way to go out ... death by the best pussy ... he came so hard and so much that he felt himself drip down his thigh.

you first started calling him over on sundays. then he started to come on fridays ... then staying the weekend ... then he came by on wednesdays for a mid-week fuck .. and slowly, but surely, he essentially lived rent free in your apartment. it was a major plus for him. he'd just been floating from one friend's couch to another. your studio apartment was small as is, barely enough for someone a few years into the workforce and even less on affordability—you barely scraped by on groceries. you'd have to make a wish on a shooting star if you ever needed repairs or healthcare. subong, on the other hand? he finally got to sleep in a bed again, and he gets to not only bum it out on another couch, but also eat pussy, get his dick sucked, and fuck on it. 10/10 no notes from him

and christ did you fuck ... one ankle on the coffee table whilst the other rests atop the couch, him pounding into you deep and deliberately, his eyes boring into your face as yours rolled back, mouth agape. once he found his rhythm and knew your body more, it was over. by the grace of the universe, his stamina heightened, too. he thought about reading war and peace and the meticulous process of the seasonal fermentation of various vegetables to thwart his orgasm from coming too quickly, but fell into a mumble of incoherent whimpers and profanities when he heard your beautiful voice tell him to "h-harder, s-subong, harder," or the cacophony of stuttered grunts leaving both of your chests; sexual pleasure in its rawest form.

one friday evening he was sat at the top of your now shared bed with his back against the wall, legs spread and looking up at you with his mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed in inexplicable pleasure, watching you bounce up and down in fucked out bliss. you had a bullshit ass day at work—something about being denied a raise or being unfairly told off at a meeting—he didn't remember or really care, all he knew was he suggested you use him to relieve frustration, and you obliged. "that's it b-baby. give it all to me, u-use this dick." he bit his bottom lip, squeezing the side of your thigh as you slammed down onto him. "give all your stress to—ngh!—me. your subongie will help you relax." his hands trailed up your waist and kneaded your breasts, making you gasp. you rolled your hips to catch your breath, biting your lip.

you put your hands on his chest for support. "such good dick." you said breathily. "all mine." "that's right." he affirmed. one hand stationed beside your knee, the other reached to the nightside table for his e-cig, bringing it to his lips. you opened your eyes when the cloud of smoke brushed against your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the faint scent of strawberry.

"fuck you and your fuckass puff bar." you said, trying to take it, but he raised it in the air with a shit-eating grin. "what? are you jealous? hm? is my baby jealous?" he jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, chuckling when you swat the e-cig out of his hand. "the fuck would i be jealous about you destroying your lungs for?" you retort. he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "you think you're too good to be fucked by me that you needed to take the edge off." you say, throwing the e-cig onto the floor and ignoring his protests, only for them turn into sharp sucked-in breaths when you rolled your hips again. "th-that was my—shit!—my b-best fucking one," subong shuddered. "you want your best puff or pussy? hm?" you said sharply. with a whimper, he said "my best p-pussy." "i thought so. now say you're sorry until i believe you." you said, hearing him let out a wall-shattering moan when you began riding his long cock again. he would never admit to this in a million years, but this was his favorite way to fuck.

you were in denial for a long time that things had become more romantic and vulnerable. since it was unspoken between you two when he inconspicuously moved in (as irresponsible it is) ... to when he started calling you "my baby" two months in and him "your subongie" a couple weeks later ... to when steamy makeouts before bed remained just that, even through the hushed whimpers and dry humping ... to when he'd smoke a cigarette on the balcony after you routinely complained about the smell, him having you sit on his lap because "the cigarette doesn't hit the same," only to end up sucking the life out of his cock or him rutting into you from behind ... to when you'd wake up with his arm slung lazily across your waist and his head tucked into your neck ... he'd run verses by you and you'd unironically compliment them ... he unironically started going on grocery runs with you, and picking out your jewelry ... and to when sunday mornings became a lot more quieter than they used to be, you two sat on the small couch together, clad in nothing but your underwear, drinking stale black coffee as one of four channels you have play on your dinky tv. it might be due to the limited space, or something more, but his hand lay on your knee whilst yours mindlessly traced the tattoos on the back of his neck, or toyed with his cartilage piercing.

you couldn't kick the question out your mind anymore. "subong?" "hm?" he responded, eyes glued to the tv. "what are we?" he didn't budge. you nudged his shoulder, earning his attention but with a flutter of irritation. "huh? what'd you ask?" "i said what are we?" his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrows, losing patience. "you know exactly what i mean."

he takes a moment to rack his brain, and then gets it. "you're my girl. my señorita." his face fell when you scoffed and pushed him away. "talk to me when you want to be serious." "i am being serious!" he says defensively. "look, you're my girlfriend. we're together." he sets his coffee down, pulling you in for a kiss. he kept kissing you until you cracked a grin, which took all of two tries. he wields his big brown eyes like katanas looking into yours, raising a finger heart and pressing it against his lips. "i like you." he says, unable to hold back his smile when you moved his hand away.

subong leaned in closer, the tip of his nose feeling the warmth of your cheek. "do you like me, too? hm? you can tell me. i promise i'll keep it a secret. i won't tell anyone." he knew your answer, but teased nonetheless, shaking his head in affirmation. you shushed him gently, actively trying to thwart how flustered you've become. he only pushed more, pressing a purposely deep and obnoxious kiss onto your skin. "i'll be the best and sexiest boyfriend ever."

it felt so wrong that your heart beat a little faster. "i'm only saying okay so that you shut up." you muttered. a knowing grin stretched across subong's face. he placed a kiss on your neck and above the valley between your breasts, laying his temple on your chest, slinging his arms around you. he smirked when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder some minutes later, his eyes fluttering closed when your lips found the top of his head.

you made him start coughing up his earnings from gigs to go towards rent. considering he wasn't being paid much, bookings weren't predictable, and he'd sometimes try to hide his earnings from you (which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, and if he did it again, you threatened he'd be out on the balcony without a blanket) his contribution wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. you shut down any chance of retaliation from him with a look he's since named "period projection" or, depending on his mood, "viagra."

when a lot of time passed between gigs, subong was woken up by a notebook and pen thrown onto his chest. "if you don't have five songs written by the time i get back from work, you're pussyless for a week." you said, slinging your purse over your shoulder. he grunted, barely opening his eyes but sitting up, the notebook and pen falling onto the bed. you grabbed his face, pecking his cheek before heading out the door.

subong talked himself up if you were being particularly hard on him, or really, just not as delusional about his success. "baby, one day you won't have to worry about shit. i'll have us partying in mykonos by next valentine's and in switzerland to see the first snow." he said one morning, standing stupidly in the middle of the apartment with nothing but his briefs and a graphic tee that had stains you didn't want to know about. "book the flights when you stop eating week old beef and using my moisturizer." you mutter, shoving the vacuum cleaner in his hands, gesturing for him to hand over the shirt before heading to the basement of the building to do laundry.

if work permitted, you went to see him perform at whatever nightclub in the city. subong found you in the crowd after his set, giving you a sloppy kiss and wrapping his sweaty arms around you no matter if you came straight from work, still clad in business wear, or in something that made you look like the rapper girlfriend of his dreams. an air of added cockiness ruminated off him when you two tag-teamed hounding the club manager whenever they tried to lowball his pay. more often than not, they caved in and gave what was agreed to and then some after you shouted said your piece. either way, you end up on the dance floor wrestling with your tongues or him pounding into you from behind in a bathroom stall. everybody wins!

when you're at work and subong's at home, he films tiktoks and posts on his instagram to get his name out there. he also tries to start beef on various naver cafés, especially when he's bored. or texting you: Did u eat the last tico?; Hi baby I have a threading appt at 5 i will meet u at your work before we go to dinner; Highh as sht88df thikning about ❤️You girl❤️❤️❤️❤️; [insert photo of him flexing in the bathroom mirror] Come home for lunch

speaking of photos on his phone, he has quite the array—advertisements at the train and bus stations he finds funny; various hair colors from the department store he wants to try; mirror selfies of him either flexing or trying on shoes; a photo of his hand squishing your cheeks when you two were waiting in line for cheap street food for lunch; another photo of you looking rather disheveled in the kitchen when you two were unfairly woken up at 6 am one saturday morning by nearby construction, an adorably annoyed look on your face because he was standing in the way of the fridge; one selfie of him in bed hitting his e-cig; the next taken six minutes later with your tit in his mouth, his eyes looking at himself. if you didn't keep tabs on him, he would've made the latter the cover of his next mixtape.

some of your friends thought you were crazy for still being with him, someone who was barely scraping by and, from an outsider's pov, was a moocher. you'd shake your head, "you guys don't get it. i know what i'm doing. you don't need to worry." and you certainly did, considering whenever you came home to subong's big brown eyes, towering height, and his smooth, low voice asking "how was your day, baby?," or when his fingers traced a fresh hickey on your neck, or when he announced his presence by placing his hand teasingly low on your waist ... oh, you were just about ready to make him a father .... even if it would lower the nation's life expectancy rate.

you've caught yourself staring at him at night when you couldn't sleep, watching the way his lips parted every time he exhaled, or how his arms were sprawled out before him after he fell asleep with them crossed. you fought the fluttering of your heavy eyelids to just .... look at him. sometimes you succumb to slumber, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek before drifting off. but one night you were simply plagued by him, looking at subong as if he was a riddle to solve, until you realized with wide eyes that you were projecting: oh fuck no. i love him.

it terrified you, that strong feeling. but not enough to sit idly by if someone became a little too flirty with him at the club, or to slow your speed walk to the bathroom after a work conference to send him a picture after he sent one that morning—lowering your volume and pressing your phone to your ear, listening to the audio message he sent in response, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together: "god, you're so fucking hot baby. how did i get so lucky .... what am i supposed to do, hm? you made my dick so fucking hard .... and it's not even eleven am yet ... is this what you wanted, hm? to get me riled up first thing in the morning?" his voice was low, sleep still fresh in his tone, followed by wet strokes. "it's sad that you're at work for so long. leaving me here—f-fuck, yeah, just like th-that—all alone ... and so needy ..."

you fucked good and hard when subong got a spot in the rap battleground competition, landing him in a position to not only put his name out there, but possibly win some money that would make a difference. you were elated enough to go condom-less. "wanna make you feel good, baby," you murmured breathily, ass pushing against the kitchen countertop, subong standing between your warm thighs. "i'm just so—mmf!" you sucked in a breath when his lips and tongue found your neck. "s-so proud of you, subongie." oh. subong just knew something was up. but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, not when he knows he's about to enter the gates of heaven. "gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw?" he muttered in that low voice of his, continuing his slow, wet kisses on your neck to avoid melting into a puddle of his libido. his voice quivered when you didn't answer, hidden well by your moan: "hm? gonna let me ruin this pussy—" "yes!" you whimpered.

in a moment of weakness, he bit his bottom lip. he grabbed your face with one hand, making you look him in the eye. even in his attempt at dominance, you saw the flickers of awe in his eyes. nothing filled the kitchen besides the sounds of your shaky breaths, his face studying yours. could this ... could he have just realized that ... he loves you, too? subong leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing with yours. you try to lean in, but his hold on your face stops you. you don't know what to make of his feelings with his next words, but with how his other hand comes up and combs your hair out of your face, and his forehead touches yours, its perhaps the most intimate moment of your relationship thus far: "you're finally gonna let me fuck what's mine?" he whispers. you nod silently.

subong bottomed out that night, cumming all over your stomach and back. your back arched like never before when he was pounding into you from behind, taking him deep into your gummy, warm walls. your fingernails clawed at your pillowcases and bed sheets, jaw hung open and eyes rolled back whilst his heavy balls hit the bottom of your stomach. your cunt suffocated his dick every time his palm smacked either globe of your ass—"take that fucking dick. take that fucking dick, just like that, yeah," he panted, palm rubbing over your hot skin before smacking it again. his voice cracked, "f-fuck! o-oh my god! fuck!" he squeezed your hips so hard you sucked a breath in through your teeth. his thrusts momentarily slowed, blinking hard when his vision began to blur at the sight of the creamy ring at the end of his cock. the noise was obnoxious, wet, and loud. you're everything he could ever hope for. in missionary, he tried so hard not to be a babbling mess, through his purposeful strokes. his hands held your head in place, his thumbs pressing into your temples, but his gaze failed to leave his cock fucking you. "give me that fucking puffy pussy." he murmured. he held his bottom lip between his teeth, groaning. "give me that puffy fucking—o-oh! ngh! f-fuck, you always know how to make me feel so f-fucking good, baby!"

you showered afterward together, momentarily forgetting about the water bill when your arms wrapped around subong's neck, your lips molding together. the kiss was soft and sensual. his hands massaged the same globes his palms set fire to whilst the remnants of his lust washed off your body and down the drain. he slept the best he had in weeks that night. a couple weeks later, you helped him dye his hair a deep purple a few days before the competition, just in time for him to adopt his new stage persona after becoming insufferable since watching "endgame," thanos.

the competition came and went, and he placed as a runner-up. he actually listened when you said you didn't want to head to the club since you had work early the next day, settling for a nice dinner and a bottle or two of soju instead. a group of fans of the show came up to him in the checkout line, and not only did you watch with an admiring grin, but your eyes widened surprise when he introduced you as his girlfriend after you were handed their phones to take a photo, harmlessly mistaken as a bystander. not only were you then asked to join the photo, but subong laughed heartily on the walk home upon hearing one of the girls' face dropped hearing the news that he's taken.

the bottles emptied on your coffee table, you ended the night rolling your hips atop his, holding onto his shoulders as his hands held onto either globes of your ass, looking up at you whilst you rode his cock. your dress pants for work were discarded on the floor, panties pushed to the side for his condom-less dick, biting your bottom lip when his palm massaged your breast through your blouse. nothing was in the room besides your breathy gasps, his low groans, the squeak of sweaty skin against the cheap faux leather of the couch, and his whispers . . . "you look so beautiful, baby. so fucking sexy." subong's eyebrows furrowed deeply, glancing at your swiveling hips before looking back up at you, despite your head being thrown back. "taking this cock so good...f-fuck ... know how to make me feel good, yeah? always know just how to squeeze me, how to make this big, fat cock cum, yeah? tell me, baby."

all you could muster was a whimper and your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, but that was more than okay with him. his hand trailed up the side of your neck, bringing your head forward. "come here, come here my beautiful baby. my beautiful fucking woman." his lips kissed yours, molding them together repeatedly. his tongue toyed with yours, picking up the speed of your hips, making him grunt into your mouth every time your inner thighs clapped against his lower stomach. you held onto each other tighter, the kiss becoming feverish, only to be broken when his thumb found your clit. you came in what felt like seconds, and before you knew it, the words slipped out: "i love you!" you whimpered, riding out the high of your intense orgasm, subong having pulled out and spilling onto his thigh. "i love you, i love you!" you repeated breathily. through the pounding of his temples, he heard. through your laborious breathing, you didn't register that he said nothing back.

subong loved you too. he's known for a while now. but that was precisely the problem—he knew, and he wasn't going to say shit. what was the reason? perhaps it was a fucked up way of protecting you by stonewalling that part of him, perhaps it was selfishness, perhaps it was the inferiority complex making him feel like he didn't deserve someone as patient, as transformative, and as loving as you, and he questioned every day why he hadn't been kicked to the fucking curb yet, even after a year and a half together. or maybe ... it was that fucking mg coin ...

he started watching that fuckass man a couple months before the rap battleground competition after a friend tipped him off about crypto. you peered over his shoulder after settling into bed, hearing parts of a youtube video through his phone speaker. "i stopped trying to understand that shit when they told me a picture of an ape is somehow currency." you muttered, making him laugh. "yeah. you're right, hm?" he let out a yawn, clicking his phone off before taking you in his arms, falling asleep with your head on his chest.

but then, it was like a flip switched. subong saw something you didn't (delusion), and seemed to be watching myung gi's videos at what felt like any chance he had. he watched him in the morning, sat at the small dining table in the kitchen as he ate leftover kimbap from dinner the night previous, already annoying you at barely 10 AM whilst pouring yourself cereal, sitting across from him on this rare saturday off. you eyed his phone, "i thought you dropped that shit." you said between chewing. his eyes stayed glued to his screen, putting another slice into his mouth. "i don't know, baby. i think he has a point. people are getting rich quick off this crypto shit. i might have to play my hand, y'know?" before you could respond, he reached over, wiping a rogue drop of milk that slipped from the corner of your mouth, sucking it off his thumb before pressing 'skip ad'. you reached over, clicking his phone off and turning it face down. "hey!—" "you talk like you routinely pay for this wifi." you said, looking into his eyes. "you talk about 'playing your hand' when you don't have the decency to spend 5,000 won on wired headphones so i don't have to hear this shit all day?"

his lip twitched in annoyance, eyes widening. "don't get smart with me!" he exclaimed. you scoffed and waved your hand dismissively, eating another scoop of your cereal. "i'll go get some headphones after i eat if that's what you really want, damn!" "if you invest in something invisible, you do it with your own money so you reap the punishment." you say. "i will." subong rolled his eyes, eating his last slice of kimbap, but irritably. "he knows his shit. says the coin'll blow up." he mumbled, glancing at you when you got up. you held his face, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "that's what they all say, subong." you collected his and your dishes, bringing them to the sink and beginning to wash.

he funneled money into that coin behind your back no problem. every time a check came in, the slice that went to investing got larger and larger. he kept it hidden by putting aside just enough to not cause suspicion. and turning off notifs at specific times. he said he'd transfer a few months worth of the rent when the money hit his account after rap battleground and a couple of scheduled gigs he won as well, but it was a half-baked lie. he told you the money hit way after it actually did, giving you what he promised but keeping a large sum for himself, because he surprisingly got a return on his investment.

he kept going and going, the high of it all rivaling his pills. he bought limited edition shoes, a pair of earrings you'd been eyeing for a while for your anniversary, and got a couple new tattoos. all of it was hidden well behind his coincidentally coinciding success of his music in the wake of the competition ... damn ... he could get used to the universe dickriding him this hard ...

until it all came crashing down that night on the couch. the same night you confessed, he got a notif from one of his crypto apps that he had lost 30 million won. he bolted out of bed, leaving your sleeping, clueless form behind to smoke a cigarette outside, pacing back and forth in the street, trying to calm himself down at 2:30 in the morning. he stared at those numbers like they were going to change, ultimately convincing himself that it was a mere fluke and that money would come again in no time, stomping his cigarette into the asphalt and heading back upstairs.

it was like a routine: watch myung gi, take notes, invest. watch myung gi, take notes, invest. subong took it to heart when he said viewers would be foolish not to bet. he resented being made to feel stupid. even when the returns were slimmer with each swipe up to refresh, he kept going. he looked you straight in the eyes with an admiring grin on his face, lying through his teeth saying everything was okay. what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? right. but it ate away at him. subconsciously, then viscerally.

your confession hung at the back of subong's head for weeks. he tried to avoid it, even attempted to put that frustration into his music, but nothing was satisfactory. his inner turmoil flooded to the surface—avoiding your kiss in the morning before you headed to work, landing your lips on the corner of his mouth before he pecked yours without much thought. you didn't say those three words again, but he saw them on display in the softness of your eyes gazing up at him. he couldn't bare it. it was so easy for him to lie to your face about his whereabouts, how much of a fucking coward was he to not say three words back? especially when he felt them, too?

you noticed the change as well. he'd be gone for longer hours, only texting you back in the later evening. his hand stayed to hisself on sunday mornings. kisses were quick and choppy, not sensual and slow. sex was more rough and rushed. it made you feel so deeply embarrassed, like a teenaged girl made to feel silly and begging for her boyfriend's attention. you hated the feeling, but hated the fact that you let that confession slip more. you always felt he wasn't one to open up like that, but a girl can dream, can't she?

then it descended into utter madness. you came home from work later than usual, having to finish last minute assignments for someone who didn't show up. you nearly exploded at the haze of smoke filling your apartment, dropping your purse on the floor. there were bottles of soju and half-eaten food littering the kitchen counters and floor, the fridge left wide open, sure to have spoiled the rest of your leftovers. your eyes then found subong and his friend, a stranger to you, so fucking high that drool leaked out of the corner of their mouths.

"out!" you yelled, enraged. "get the fuck out!" neither of them moved until the piercing sound of the soju bottle you threw at the wall, shattering into pieces, jolted their senses awake. you grabbed the friend by his tank top, yanking him out of his seat like a fucking rag doll, and shoved him out the door. "the fuck! get ... get your—tell your bitch to fucking chill, bro!" the man's words slurred, only for him to nearly stumble down the stairs when you hurled another bottle at him. "don't ever fucking come back here!" you yelled.

"jesus fucking christ, you're so fucking loud." subong muttered, now standing and rubbing his fingers against his temples. "what the fuck is wrong with you! you've never done shit like this before!" you yelled, paying no mind to his wincing. "the fuck are you talking about? i get high, you know this—" "yeah, i do! but never like this. in our fucking house, subong!"

it was then that you saw the syringe and tinfoil on the coffee table. even in your blistering anger, you took his wrists in your hands, looking over his arms. "since when did you do hard shit? huh?" you muttered. his eyebrows furrowed, looking over to the table with hooded eyes. "what? i...i don't." his words slurred, a low burp gurgling out from his lips, shaking his head. "my friend fucks around with that. not me. i stick to pills and vape, baby. i swear."

you let go of his wrists, running a hand through your hair and pacing. the smoke had cleared. you turned around, seeing him laying his temple against the fridge, mouth hung open and eyes closed. you slowly walked up to him, not sure where to begin, your hands reaching up and holding his face. "baby." you said, him grunting in response. "i don't ... i don't know what's going been going on with you lately. you've been so distant and ... and cold. and then coming home to this ... subong, you're—you're scaring me a little."

he groaned weakly, chin sinking downward before you caught him, holding his face up whilst looking into his hooded eyes. your heart felt punctured. "is it ... is it because i said i love you? is it because of that?" his eyes opened, making way for his frustrated grimace. he shook his head, lip curling in what you mistook as disgust, when in reality he was outwardly sickened by himself. "you don't know fucking shit about anything, bitch."

your face fell, eyes watering. you let go of him, his cheek flattened against the fridge, barely stabilizing himself against it. you took a step back. a million thoughts ran through your mind, but one prevailed amongst all of them: what i've been avoiding has shown itself to be true. a tear escaped your waterline, but your voice was stable. "get out." you sniffled, wiping your cheek. "get out, subong."

"huh?" he mumbled, gradually opening his eyes. "i said get the fuck out of my house, subong." "what? i'm not going—" he burped again. "i'm not going fucking anywhere." he wagged a finger in your face. you swatted his arm away, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and yanked him with all of your might, pushing his back, shoving him out the door even after he tripped over your purse. you slammed the door and locked it before he got to his feet again. "hey!" he yelled. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "open the damn door, you fucking bitch!" he pounded on the door with his palm. "come back when you stop acting like a fucking child!" you yelled, hitting the door back repeatedly. "and not turn my place into a fucking trap house, you piece of shit!"

"what about all that money i gave you, huh!? for rent? and your fucking groceries? give me those fucking earrings you have on, you never fucking deserved them anyway—" "fuck no!" you shouted over him. "this is the least i fucking deserve after your fucking pennies, you cheap piece of shit! if you're so loaded, then fuck off!" subong pressed his mouth to edge of the door, seething. "throwing your boyfriend out like this? when i'm making it big, huh? you'll come to regret this—" you bursted out laughing almost maniacally, a very strange mixture of anger, frustration, and hilarity brewing in your chest. he could be so fucking ridiculous. "m-making it big?" you repeated, laughing so hard you clutched your stomach and wiped tears from your face. it was cathartic. "i-if you're 'making it big,' subong, then—then i'm a lost member of the royal fucking family!" you exclaimed. "how's the fund for greece, huh? still plan on taking me for valentine's? or are you going to continue to clog my toilet because you're still too cheap to buy fresh meat?" "shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming his palm against the door and wiggling the doorknob.

a neighbor opened their door, avoiding eye contact and stepping around the broken glass to take out their trash, visibly not wanting to be caught in the firestorm taking place in the hall. subong grew embarrassed, turning back to the closed door with a new plea to avoid the atomically sinking feeling. "open the door. please, baby. let's talk this out." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level, wiping his nose with the side of his thumb. when you didn't answer, he kept going. "i'm sorry for all the trouble, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah? just open the door, and we can talk this out. c'mon, baby, the neighbors'll hear—" "let them fucking hear!" you yelled, making him flinh. you leaned closer to the edge of the door, directly parallel to him. "what's that bullshit you always say, huh? any attention is good attention, if you know what to do with it? well, eat your fucking words then, subong! be a man for once in your stupid life!" his eyes widened, vein popping out of his temple. "fuck you, you fucking whore!" he slammed the door repeatedly, the two of you creating a cacophony when you started hitting it, too. "fuck you too, dumbass!"

it was eerily silent that evening in your apartment. you, alone, cleaning up the mess he left behind. carefully sweeping up shattered glass, plastic bags, food wrappers, washing the dishes, cleaning out the fridge, etc. subong was universe knows where. you didn't have the energy to think about him, not even bothering to look around on your walk to the convenience mart to buy ramen for dinner. the emotional turmoil sank into your chest when you sat at the same kitchen table where chaos unfolded at mere hours ago to eat. you barely swallowed the first mouthful before you sank into tears, shoulders shaking, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to console yourself. how could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

you and subong didn't speak for three months. he called and texted those first couple weeks, but that fizzled out, and you didn't answer at all. you didn't owe him anything, especially after the shit he put you through. the wound was still felt too fresh, sensitive enough to do anything but wallow in the silence, heading back out to bars with your friends on the weekends.

none of your friends dared to say much. you were offered apologetic words, but a fool wouldn't notice the air of i told you so in their tone. even with you ceasing caring to cover the healing hickies, being much more subdued on nights out, or your eye bags deepening in the wake of the break up, you were mainly left to wallow in your own grief. you felt it was half deserved and half fucking rude.

but as more time went on, you felt hurt by the fact that subong didn't show back up. not once. not even a mean note on your door, or sign of attempted entry. did he really not fucking care that much? he was just a man, after all ... but then again, not every man is reduced to grateful tears after eating pussy. or looks at you like a renaissance painting come to life when you're retouching his fucking hair dye. when you got home one night, a little tipsy from the cocktails you had, you clicked on those unread text messages— ranging from Baby i'm sorry please talk to me; Stop being so fucking stubborn; ileft my keytthere I dont wantt it back u fknng cnutt; to I don't deserve you i fucked up please baby—and listening to those voicemails.

one resonated with you, even in your inebriated state: "hi ... um, it's been, like, four days since we ... and i, uh—i feel weird. and i don't like it at all. i know you're at work right now but i can't bring myself to show my face and i fucking hate it. i don't like being a coward. but you ... you're ... you're just ... you need to stop. you can't keep doing this to me. you make me feel things i've never felt and it fucking scares me. and you cut me off before i could even say my bit. how is that fair? you can't just come into my life like that and walk away before i get a say. you can't change my life and me and then just throw me away. i know ... i know i'm not the best guy. but even i don't deserve to be thrown out like—" he was cut off and did not call back. "oh my god. what a fucking idiot." you murmured, rubbing your temple with your fingers.

but the universe loves to throw curveballs, because you saw him two weeks later at a bar a few blocks down from the club you first met at. subong saw you long before you saw him that night. he'd spent so much of the last four months feeling a spectrum of emotions, coping with his frustration by daydreaming about what he'd say the next time he saw you—all of the insults to suffice for his anger, all of the things he'd say to make you feel bad for how you treated him—all cogs in his self-deflection apparatus. but when he actually saw you, sat alone at the bar with no friend group in sight, drinking what looked to be martini, he was at a loss for words. even his emotionally daft ass was aware enough to sense something was different about you. more muted, more subdued. that's what she fucking gets. his inner monologue was unforgiving, only for him to peer over a tall strangers shoulder to keep his softened eyes on you. but she ... she can't be alone. not here.

subong was really good at blending into the crowd, until he got too close, and by chance you glanced up and saw him. he was close enough to hear you suck in a breath through your teeth, and see your eyes widen in panic the same time his did. without thinking, you got up from your seat, grabbing your purse hanging on the back of your chair, forgetting you hadn't even taken a second sip of your overpriced drink. subong stepped out of the crowd, "don't go." he said gentler than anticipated, before remembering he was supposed to be livid. his expression hardened, lips tightened, hand grabbing for your arm. "we need to talk."

"i don't have anything to fucking say to you." you say sharply, not looking at him, keeping your voice low to not cause commotion. "yes the fuck you do." he bit back. you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, failing. "let me go or i'll throw my drink in your face." "really?" he smirked. "i didn't take you to be so careless with your money." you look up, eyebrows raised, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. "oh, that's funny. do you still think you're up and coming? or have you come to terms with the fact that you're an illiterate fuck who steals IP just to still write shit fucking bars?"

subong closed much of the remaining gap between you. "shut your fucking mouth, you bitch." he seethed through gritted teeth. you look him dead in the eyes, "see what i mean? you still can't come up with anything new, and you've had all this time." you pulled at his grip again, but he was strong. "let me go." "you didn't listen to me before, so you're going to listen now." "like the fuck i am!" you looked at him like he was crazy. you pulled again, finally freeing your arm. you grabbed your drink, purse in your other hand. "now leave me alone." you say. "or i'll throw this drink right in your fucking eyes."

you turned and walked deeper into the dimly lit bar; just anywhere that was not where he was. you found an empty booth, sitting down with a huff, taking a hefty swig of your martini. you shot up when you saw him walk over, putting your arm in position, only for subong to put his hands up, one hovering over your drink. "don't throw it! don't!" "do you not know how to fucking listen!?" "you don't know how, either!" he shot back. "why did you never respond to my texts or calls?" "don't ask me that with that stupid look on your face like it's as bad as you bringing a fucking stranger and hard drugs into my home!" you exclaimed. "which, by the way, in all of your rambling voicemails and texts, you've never once apologized for." "so you did read them?" "that's not the fucking point, subong!" "yes, it is! to me!" "and what? you don't think it matters to me that you never said 'i love you' back? that i felt like a fucking teenage girl, waiting at her boyfriend's beck and call to care about her?"

people were starting to stare, but your sense of decorum was long gone. he got up in your face, and you took him up at that challenge. "i care! i fucking cared!" he stared into your eyes in frustration, pushing his fingers into his chest in a desperate gesture. "well, you didn't do a good job of showing it. because at some point, i felt my loneliest even when you were beside me, snoring like fucking pug and dutch ovening the blanket."

subong, at a loss for words, too choked up on his anger and long-suppressed complicated feelings boiling to the surface, turned to what he knew best: low hanging fruit. after a moment, he collects himself. a smug smirk stretches across his face, taking a step back and glancing at the dated wall art behind you. he shook his head, looking down at the floor with a chuckle. "and here i was, thinking you were secretly pregnant with my kid or something." he said. your eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. this was stupid, even for him. "what?" you shook your head. "what the fuck are you talking about—" "—it makes sense that you wouldn't want to tell me. too much for you too handle. but then i saw you tonight, and you looked more bloated than usual, so i thought i was right. but then you were drinking—" he yelped when the cold gin splashed in his face, flinching at the glass bouncing off his chest, shattering next to his foot. gasps erupted throughout the room. subong hastily wiped his eyes, feeling them burn. "fucking bitch!" "your children would be lucky to never know their deadbeat of a fucking father."

you stormed off, heading into the nearby women's bathroom. heartbeat in your throat, you turned on a sink, rinsing the alcohol off your hands. you didn't look up when the door hit the wall, or when subong yelled "fuck off!" to the other three women in the room, causing a brief scurry of heels out the door. he pushed you out of the way, rinsing his eyes. "i should go and file a fucking police report on you." he mumbled. he looked up at you, expression angry, even with his squinting eyes. "i should've written 'sex slave' on my tax forms, too, with how you treated me!"

you pushed him right back, collecting a handful of water from the running sink with your palm, and throwing it at his face. "when was the last time you paid your taxes? hm!?" you exclaimed. "do you even know where your bank is? did you ever buy a new toothbrush after the one you had became a clump of bristles and i had to get one for you like a fucking mother!?" you yelled, using both palms and throwing more water; some hitting the floor, some splashing on yourself, but most wetting his face and clothing. "hey!" his voice boomed. he took a step forward, slipping, but caught himself on the edge of the sink. he turned the water off, landing your hand atop his in a failed effort to stop him. "you don't get to speak to me like that!" he yelled. "i can speak however i want to!" you yelled louder, making him wince, cursing under his breath. "you lost your chance when you made me feel crazy for loving you. i don't know how i could've even liked you!"

"hey!" subong's voice echoed off the walls. "your voice is so fucking shrill! you're giving me a fucking headache!" he pushed his fingers into his temple. he pointed at you, unwavering when you smacked it away. "don't act like you're fucking innocent, either—let me fucking finish!" you closed your mouth, crossing your arms over your chest. "see, this is what your problem is. you don't let anyone speak, or want to do anything i like. all those times you laughed in my face, didn't take me seriously, or tossed my career away like it was garbage, like some fucking fly you couldn't swat away." he waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the gesture. "well, i'm sorry i put a roof over your head when you were piss poor broke." your voice was eerily leveled, staring so hard into his eyes you could've burned holes into his retinas. "and didn't act like you were nominated for grammys in fucking return."

"'laughed?' 'didn't take seriously?'" you repeated his words, eyebrows furrowing. "who dyed your stupid fucking purple hair? who reminded you to write songs? who pushed you to call clubs? who yelled at pervert managers to get you fair pay!?" your voice escalated. subong's eyes drifted to the tiled floor, head hanging lower than before. you took a breath. "subong, i—" he met your eyes at the mention of his name. "i invented you."

his expression soured, hating that you were right and faced with his own cowardice once again. but he would rather give himself up to his loan shark than show it. "invented is the right word." subong spoke lowly, nodding. his hand came up to his head, making a screwing gesture. "false ideas—you have false ideas of who i am. you played with me like a toy." you were in disbelief. "p-played you? like ... like a toy?" you began to stutter through this newfound upheaval of anger, something that made your face feel hot and stomach churn, increasingly irritated with each second you couldn't get the words out. "you!—you!" you hit your palm on the edge of the sink, sending your purse to the floor. "you came so hard that i thought i had to go to urgent care to get you an oxygen mask!" every word sounded more strained than before. you inhaled deeply, running against a ticking timer in your head to when he'd open his mouth next. you gestured at a bathroom stall door, but in your head, it was a memory. "you held onto me so tightly after your performances or at home or—or eating dinner to the point where i had to eat with one hand!" you closed the gap, your pointer finger brushing against the tip of his nose. "at some point, you couldn't fall asleep unless you felt my fucking heartbeat, motherfucker!"

"and you did all of that," you gestured around you. "just to fuck me over, and make me realize i've wasted my time loving someone who doesn't give half a fucking shit whether i live or die!" "i care!" his voice boomed. "how many times do i have to say that!?" "until your last goddamn breath." you retort without hesitation. "and with how you live, that should be right around the corner." "are you saying i should die?" "what? no, subong. of course not." you shook your head. "that's not what i—that's not what i meant." "so what did you mean?" "what i mean was—no, stop distracting. you know exactly what i meant." with your next look at him, you saw them: his manicured hands, equipped with different colors on all fingernails. oh, you hated how quickly your mind shifted gears, how quickly the worries of the imaginary teenage girl clouded your logic and best judgment, but none more than this being what your eyes began watering over. "who ... who did that?" you asked, your suddenly quieted voice catching subong off guard.

"what?" he asked, confused. his eyes followed your gaze, landing at his hands, eyebrows raising at the realization that this was his chance at getting the upper hand: "someone i saw." he lied. it wasn't wholly untrue, but dubiously framed; the nail tech was a woman, so he did see her, just not in the way he just purposefully vaguely implied. he needed something to jab at you, to knock you down a peg like it was a schoolyard fight, but even he couldn't smirk at the hurt on your face. in fact, he regretted those words the moment he said them. "who is she?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. subong had never seen you look so devastated like this before. it made him feel an instinct that straightened his posture, unaware of what to do next, standing awkwardly. he attempted to say these next words with venom, but he couldn't even believe them himself, almost sounding as subdued as you: "it's none of your fucking business."

your heart drops. you feel nauseous. if subong had blinked, he would've missed your curt nod. you didn't bother wiping the tear trailing your cheek, his eyes watching as you pick up your purse from the floor, ears perking at your sniffle. "okay." you whispered, but you were so quiet that your voice nearly blended with the air vent. you started walking, fully intending to never turn back around, until his hand on your wrist stopped you. "wait—" "stop!" you said sharply, yanking out of his grip before he could close his fingers entirely. you held your hands in the air before circling around, your eyes landing on his. his face fell. you looked perishable, drained of an essence he couldn't fathom you without. oh, he'd really done it this time.

you lunged forward, nail of your pointer finger scratching against his nose. "you don't get to do this to me, s-subong!" you exclaimed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tears stifle the effort. you couldn't contain the sob. he was mortified at the sight. "it's ... it's not fair." you whispered meekly. your hands trailed to his chest, balling into fists as you cried. he stood there, frozen, mouth agape like a fool. subong raised his hand, petting your hair with a light, unsure touch. "it's fi—" he sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth when you started swatting his chest, pushing and shoving at him in a pitiful tantrum. subong took it silently, putting his hands up, face contorting uncomfortably at the sound of your cries. his bottom lip started to quiver as time went on. he couldn't tell what he hated more: the fact he lost the fight, or the fact he cared about that to begin with.

"that's enough. hey—" subong inhaled sharply through his nose. he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place. "that's enough." he hoped to whatever higher power you didn't hear the quiver. he swallowed, resting his forehead against yours. your hands went limp. he let go, feelings your palms trail up to his face. "you're mine." you spoke weakly. his mouth fell open, staring at your lips whilst you begged for his eyes; earning you such when your hand on his cheek guided him to your gaze. "do you hear me?" you whispered. "you're mine, subong. no one elses." you shook your forehead against his, your tragic desperation ailing him. "mhm." his hands trailed your waist. "i'm yours, baby. all yours."

with a shaky hand, your fingers ran through his hair, thumb so close to his lips he pressed a skeleton of a kiss onto it. "i'm sorry i threw my drink at you." you cry, voice stuck at a whisper. "i'm so sorry, subong—" "stop." his low voice shushes you, nose nestling beside yours, slowly trailing to your neck. he inhaled your scent, eyes rolling back when your fingers brushed past his cartilage piercing. "i had it coming." his nose found its way back to your cheek, pressing kisses onto the warm, wet skin. "why didn't you come home, subong? i .. i've been waiting for so long." his bottom lip quivered again, but his voice was utmost steady: "you never asked."

"i—i shouldn't have to!" you swatted at his chest. "you idiot!" "i know, i know. i've been really fucking stupid." his voice cracks. subong leans in, but you turn away. "i can't. it's not good for me." "can't you see we're dying without each other?" he pleads, his hands turning your head to look at him. "look at me, look at you! just one, baby. please." his breath brushed against your cheeks, his hands holding either side of your face. "i can't ... i can't go on without you."

with a shaky breath and fresh tears falling down your cheeks, you closed the gap. a guttural moan rumbled through your chest, subong whimpering desperately. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, your hands holding his face for dear life—the kiss slow and purposeful, making up for lost time, a conversation no words could say. subong's palms made way to your ass, acting on pure muscle memory. he angled his head, introducing his tongue into the equation, having to quickly bend his knees to catch your fidgety form. "i'm not going anywhere." he unintentionally stifled the most heavenly moan he's ever heard from you. you broke the kiss for air. subong wasted no time, returning to his favorite spot on your neck, holding you in place firmly. your head fell back, letting him do whatever he so pleased—your hand on the back of his head wielding the power of casting a centuries-long trance.

he sucked and licked with precision, like a day hadn't gone by. he even hummed in concentration, mouth popping off of your soft skin until the bruise was to his liking. "s-subong." you whined, needing his lips back, your fingers messily carding through his hair. "i'm almost done." he was gentle, even if he was ignoring the concrete fucking lump in his pants and starting to sweat over your warmth against his. he latched off, fingers tracing the bluish-red spot with satisfaction. "come here, pretty girl." his slightly swollen lips made your eyebrows furrow pathetically, the kiss felt sticky, your lips sown with his. "i need you." you murmured. "i need you." "stall. the bathroom stall."

you grabbed his hand, rushing to the closest one, pulling him inside. neither of you think to close the door, letting it bang against the wall after swinging it open. subong's lips returned to yours, but his hands pat his pockets, feeling his phone and wallet, unsure: "i don't—i don't have a condom." "it's okay, it's okay." you assure truthfully, hurriedly kissing him as if he'd disappear if you let go. "it'll be just like how we used to, hm?" "turn around for me."

you do, placing your hands on the bathroom stall wall to hold yourself up. subong pulls your pants down to your ankles, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to grind his hardened cock against your ass, leaving nothing to the imagination, even with the barrier of his briefs and your underwear. "s-subong!" you gasped, back arching, pushing your ass farther onto him, feeling his cock closer to your aching pussy but not quite there yet. "how could you take this away from me?" he whispered into your ear, breath hitching vulnerably as he tried to keep himself composed, the plush of your round ass making his mind mush. "from us?" subong's hands snuck past the hem, grabbing at the powdery softness of either globes of your ass. his bottom lip suffered between his teeth, watching his hands work underneath the fabric, squeezing firmly. your nails clawed at the wall, eyes fluttering closed whenever his cool rings cinched around your hot skin. "stop teasing." your cheek collided with his nose, not realizing how close his face was to yours.

subong kissed your supple skin like instinct. "you'll take this dick like a good fucking girl, right?" he was so close to your ear the tip of his nose smushed against the stall wall. "y-yes!" you helplessly paw at the wall. his hand pulled down your underwear, rutting himself against your bare ass. his fingers maneuvered between your legs, middle finger sinking between your folds and encircling, keeping you steady between him and the wall. when he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, he feels faint, cursing under his breath as your guttural grunt that bounced off the walls. "s-subong—" your voice sounded dry from the earlier arguing and succumbing to your illustrious libido. "i know, baby, i know." his fingers were unrelenting. christ, you were so fucking wet. "just wait for a little longer, and i'll fuck this pussy like the good boy you know i fucking am."

his fingers came to a gradual halt. whilst your chest heaved, he sucked on the tip of his middle finger, licking it clean. "i'm getting on my knees. don't move." he pulled your underwear down, peering up at the puffy lips he has to thank for opening his third eye. you cover your mouth, his warm tongue delving between your folds, scared of what you might sound like if you let go. for the next minute, all that fills the bathroom are the lewd sounds of his tongue nursing your sweet pussy and your muffled whimpers. a crude smack on your left globe followed by a harsh squeeze was the unspoken: let me fucking hear you. "o-oh!" you cried out. "o-oh my fucking god!"

you pushed your ass onto his face, your eyes crossing over the vibrations of his satisfied moan against your clit, squeezing them shut. he lapped your hole repeatedly, swallowing, taking a breath before adjusting his knees on the floor. subong's thumbs spread your lips apart, latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking. the curvature of your back deepened, head thrown back, a cry of pure lust brewing out of your diaphragm, heartbeat stuttering when his tongue lapped the bundle without mercy. "r-right there! just, just—ngh! hngh!—just l-like that!" "where? here?" he asked knowingly, tongue replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit mercilessly. his other hand fished his cock out from his briefs, beginning to stroke himself.

it was a cacophony of wet slick, choked moans, and squelching heat. nothing could deter it, not even the pair of friends that walked in the bathroom, chatting away and completely unaware, only to quickly back out of the room widened eyes and whispers of "oh my god, did you see them?" and "on a tuesday?" it was a sight to behold: your ass in his face; a mixture of his saliva and your slick trailing down his chin, quickly wiped by the back of his hand when he took a breath, but smearing nonetheless; his precum leaking onto the floor; your moans so delicate and raw any erotic film director would beg on their knees to cast you; and subong's affirming mhms and thats rights as he sucks and laps your clit.

subong knew you were close when your thighs began to shake. "give it to me." his hand ceased pumping his dick, both thumbs separating your puffy lips farther than before, running his tongue over your clit. "give it to me, mama," your moan made his dick twitch, eyebrows deeply furrowed, fucked-out gloss coating his eyes. "give it to me, baby, come on—" "ngh!" your body squirmed, nails scraping against the wall, one hand reaching for the top, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm took over your body. subong was stubborn—his palms pressing your back down further, tongue unrelenting through your high, swallowing whatever you gave him. he slowed when your breathing leveled, suckling one last time before rising to his feet.

he pushed your shirt up, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder. "hey," he said gently, hearing your shaky breaths. "still with me?" "mhm." you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, trying your best to remain standing. his lips kissed your temple, "everything okay?" "mhm," was all you were able to muster. "f-felt really good. needed it." "me too. i dreamt about you, baby." he whined, lips pressed to your skin. "i dreamt about you so much." his breathing became ragged, tip of his cock red and angry. "tugged at my dick so much and i never came as good as when i was with you. now you made me cum just from eating your pussy. do you see what you've done to me? do you see what you've done to your precious subongie?"

you feel dizzy, lifting your head for air. "put it in." you whisper. you push your ass into him, moaning at the feeling of his cock rutting against you. "put it in, subongie." he slowly pushed his tip in, eventually enveloped by your gummy walls. his face contorted—"how're you so much tighter than before!?" his voice was notably higher, barely moving his hips, slowly inching out of you. "h-haven't had anyone else," you sucked in a tight breath. "b-been waiting for you—hngh!" oh, you were so back ... you couldn't help the satisfied smile that stretched across your face, ears filled with his needy whines and blubbering incoherently about how much he missed you, and his girthy cock stretching you out in the way you deserve. "fuck me, subongie," you said breathlessly. "fuck me the way you dream about." "i won't last, you're so fucking tight!—" "—be the good boy you said you'd be!"

with that, he got to work. his pelvis hit your ass, not rapidly, but with reverberating force, moaning and whining like it was the last thing he'd ever do. your mouth fell open, body shaking with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut. you gasped when his hand reached into your bra, holding your left breast, biting your lip as your nipple hardened against his palm. you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of your jiggling globes every time he thrusted. "faster," you said. "faster and harder, s-subong. i—fuck!—i n-need you so b-badly!" he grabbed either side of your hips, pounding into you through his intensifying blurry haze, balls slapping against you so unapologetically that, if someone got close enough, it could've been heard from outside the door. subong wasn't showing off; he wasn't outdoing himself, to him, this was making love. here he was, fucking the woman of his dreams (he got her back!!,) hearing those moans he was so afraid would escape his memories, and fortunate to be feeling and fucking her divine pussy. talk about a jackpot.

"a-agh! f-fuck!" he cried out, hips stuttering as you began fucking him back. he looked down at the sight, watching his creamy cock disappear and reappear at your volition, his indescribable pleasure displayed on his face, envied by empty canvases wishing to capture such raw human emotion. "n-no, no!" he gasped, feeling your pussy clench around him, that knot forming in his abdomen. "y-you're killing me, baby," he panted. "b-baby—ngh!—s-stop, need to f-fuck you. m'gonna cum s'quick if you—if you, f-fuck!" you stopped abruptly, slamming against his pelvis with a shaky breath. "i'm almost there, too." you said. you sunk a little lower, pushing your ass against him. "k-keep going, my love. you're doing so good. always know how to fuck this pussy so good, hm? yeah? best dick i've ever fucking had." you whine, feeling his cock pulsate in your cunt. you look over your shoulder, feeling his hand squeeze your left asscheek, "wanna cum in me?" wanna cum in me so much that i make you a daddy? yeah?" a wall-rattling gasp shattered out of your lungs when he thrust into you hard, once. then twice. "you're going to be the fucking death of me."

subong pounded into your tight pussy mercilessly, brushing against that spongy spot deep in your cunt with little effort at the angle you were in now. "right there, right t-there! o-oh my god, f-fuck—fuck! s-subong—subong! keep going! you feel so f-f-fucking good!" your whorish mewls were no match for his. he was a goner; bottomed out; becoming lightheaded. he kept going, kept hitting that spongy haven, but it wasn't a knot in your abdomen that fleshed goosebumps across your skin, embarking on its unravel—it was deeper, more carnal than that—but before you could register it, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your leg felt wet. "o-oh—oh my g-god—" you were a mumbling mess through this indescribable orgasm, wholly aware of your body but lost in your lustful haze. subong knew exactly what was going on. it brought him over the edge. "f-fuck! fuck! fuck!" warmth coated your walls, chock-full of his cum, trailing down your thigh with your squirt. he slowed his thrusts, moving so delicately it was as if his cock was made of glass.

he stopped moving, cock resting inside your warm cunt. you were in your own world, weakly holding onto the wall, ears ringing, temples pounding. your senses cleared albeit minutely with his hands holding your shoulders, helping you stand up better. you raised your arm, planting it before you and resting your forehead against it, taking deep breaths. subong pulled out, tutting softly hearing your quiet gasp, palm tracing your lower back as a silent i know, i know. his chest heaving, subong's hand reached over, trying to tuck your hair behind your ear to talk to you, but stops when he sees your earrings—the ones he gave you all those months ago; the ones he said you didn't deserve during that explosive argument. unexpectedly to him, his eyes started to water, quickly pressing a kiss onto the back of your shoulder, mouth muffled against the fabric of your top. in the midst of your labored breathing, you don't overhear: "i love you," he whispered. he pressed another kiss. "i love you."

after a few moments, you stood up steadily, making subong lift his head. your hand aimlessly reached behind you for him."you made me ... you made me—" "—i know, i know." he spoke gently. your senses found him when his arm wrapped around your waist, lips pressing a kiss to your temple and staying there. your hand reached up, coaxing your fingers through his hair. "have we ... have we ever done that before?" "i don't think we did." "yeah ... i figured." your eyes were still closed, slowly opening when his lips peppered kisses on your jaw. "i don't—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "i don't know if i can walk straight." both of you couldn't help but laugh, his forehead resting against your temple. "you know," he cleared his throat. "i think someone came in when i was eating you out." "oh god." you murmured. "did they say anything?" "i was kinda busy to notice if they did." he chuckled lowly. "right, right."

the heat of your apartment woke you up in the middle of the night, lazily tugging the duvet of your sweaty body. subong's light snores became background noise after a press of a button, the air conditioning kicking in. in your sleepy state, you squinted at the time on the oven: 4:27 AM. shuffling to the bathroom, you emerged a few minutes later, filling a glass of water from the kitchen tap. after taking a sip, you walked to the ac unit, eyes closed whilst you cooled down, wind flowing modestly through your hair.

feeling refreshed enough, you headed back to bed. you carefully slid your glass onto the nightside table, hoping there was a enough space on the already small and cluttered surface—equipped with yours and subong's charging phones, hair ties, ibuprofen, whatever else you were too lazy to properly put away, and not lit since there was no room for a lamp—but guessed wrong, accidentally sliding both phones off. a loud clatter rang throughout the apartment, "shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly eyeing subong. he didn't flinch, snoring peacefully. you picked the phones up, plugged his back in, and set them onto the table securely. a notif came up on his screen. by chance, your eyes glanced over. what was a mere peek became a full on stare.

it was from a crypto app. you didn't have to be a genius to know; the word was in the name of the fucking app. you read the notif before his screen went dark: You have an update on your investment. Tap to view. you have got to be fucking kidding me. you thought to yourself. without thinking, you unplugged his phone, tapping his screen to see it again. but the notif was now hidden, requiring his face id or passcode to view. is his passcode still the same as before? you wondered, thinking of those times he'd let you use his phone to connect him to the wifi, or send yourself photos from dates he'd always forget to. you look over your shoulder at his sleeping form, clueless. forget ethics, forget respecting privacy, forget trusting your partner; your brain was in overdrive. this better fucking work. you swipe up, typing 6969—it works. you tap the notif, the app loads quickly. your eyes run over an interface filled with lingo you don't know or care for and usernames that should be put on a watchlist, but then you find it: his profile. you click the icon on the bottom right corner, seeing the Investments tab with an encircled 1 next to it, clicking it, waiting for the screen to load. it only took a couple of seconds, but it was long enough to make you nervously gnaw at your bottom lip and tap your foot. then it loaded.

-850 MILLION KRW — in unmissable red at the top of the screen, above a graph you could only guess illustrated the fluctuation of his money, and other bullshit you couldn't comprehend in the moment. you stared. in silence, numb. before you knew it, the number changed: -1.19 BILLION KRW. your thumb acted before your brain could, scrolling, finding the extensive histories of his investments. he was betting hourly during the day with money he certainly did not have, losing thousands. you scrolled even deeper, finding investments from before you broke up. 50,000 krw here, 5 million there, 30 million another day .... he'd been lying that entire time. selfishly keeping more for himself, all the while consoling your crying state from not being able to make rent in time, even with what you suspected to be all he had ("i'm so sorry, baby. you don't deserve this. we don't deserve this. i'll fight your landlord for you, don't worry.") what utter bullshit.

it was all lies. it was all deception. and now he was back in your bed, peacefully asleep like everything was okay. you let him back into your life, thinking everything was going to be fucking okay. you squeeze his phone in your hand, arm shaking. your other hand sinks your fingers into your knee, as if to prevent from screaming; trying to find another outlet for the anger—fuck it! irate, you grab your glass of water and rush to his side of the bed, throwing it onto his face. he shot up immediately. you paced back and forth, eyes rolling at his coughing fit. "wha—what?" his voice was gravely, wiping his eyes. "was that—was that water?" he asked stupidly. "yes it was fucking water!" you spoke loudly, irritated at the sight of his barely opened eyes."what're you yelling for?" his voice was lower than usual, clouded by looming sleep. "it's, like, four in the morning, baby."

"don't you fucking 'baby' me." you muttered, marching up to him. you showed him his screen. "the fuck is this? hm?" "what?" he asked, wiping water off his forehead. you threw his phone onto his lap. "check your fucking investments." he picked up his phone and scrolled. he didn't say a word. you continued to pace like a madwoman, back and forth, nothing filling the air but the skid of the heels of your feet against the floor. you mentally cursed and screamed, thoughts so scrambled that if you opened your mouth all that would come out would be jibberish, so you paced. and paced. and paced. it could've been anywhere between five or ten minutes when you stopped. "well?" you asked sharply, arms crossed over your chest. "how much money did you fucking make?"

"why'd you look at my phone?" asked subong. he was trying so hard to avoid openly showing his shame; his pride prevailing. "that's—" you stuttered. "that's seriously what you're asking right now?" "yes, that's what i'm fucking asking right the fuck now." he looked up at you, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. "you just threw water in my face. i get to ask questions." "you're a billion in debt!" you whisper-yelled, afraid your eyes would water if you were any louder. you trudged to his side of the bed, eyes wide and finger to his chest. he stared at you blankly, a twitch of his eyebrow outed his mounting frustration at his stifled shame. "you're a billion in debt, subong. where did you ... where did you even get all that money?" you swallowed, taking a step back, eyes looking everywhere but him to thwart the mounting glossiness. "why did you lie to me? all those times, all those times where i felt like it was the end. where i felt like i was at a dead end." you gestured to the couch with your hand, staring at him. "and you ... you lied. you were selfish, and didn't want to help. i ... i saw everything, subong. i know you kept on lying about your earnings when we were together."

another beat of silence. "subong, why did you put so much money into—" "—why'd you look at my phone? hm?" he interrupted, eyes wide. "why couldn't you just mind your fucking business?" "you're a billion in debt—" "i didn't owe you anything!" subong suddenly yelled, catching you off guard. he ripped the duvet off, marching up to you, finger in your face. "i didn't owe you fucking anything." he repeated, breathing hard through his nostrils. "what was it you said to me? hm? that it's my money, my punishment to have? so let me fucking have it." "you owed me everything!" you yelled, smacking his hand away. "you owed me the fucking truth!" he turned around, walking to the window leading to the balcony, hands roughly rubbing his face and hair. "why didn't you just tell me? why did you hide—" "—i did it all for you."

your eyes widened and jaw fell, appalled. "oh my god." you muttered to yourself, but he overheard. "i'm going fucking crazy. i'm going fucking crazy." you ran your hands through your hair, pacing. "i know you did not just ... i know you did not just say that." you shook your head. "how could you be so fucking stupid. how could i be so fucking stupid?" subong whipped his head around. "hey! don't call me stupid!" he walked up to you, growing angrier with your ignoring him. "hey!" he exclaimed. "don't call me stupid! i'm not stupid for taking initiative, or, or doing shit because i care about you!" his arms flailed.

"oh..." you shook your head, facing him. he felt like a first grader being told off by his teacher, frustratingly shifting his weight between his feet, unsure of where to put this uncomfortable energy. "oh no, subong. this isn't caring. this is being a complete and utter dumbass." you said, eyes porous in realization. tears were no longer in the realm of possibility. now, it was just pity. "there's no coming back from this." you made sure he knew. "you're fucked." "i know that!" he yelled, vein tight in his temple. "you don't think i fucking know that!?" subong's eyebrows furrowed. it was his turn to avoid crying. he looked away hastily, cursing repeatedly under his breath as if it'd ward off his blurring vision. he blinked hard—"i ... i tried everything." he muttered, bottom lip quivering. "i ... made deals with dangerous p-people." he cleared his throat. "i slept on benches. my own mother wouldn't pick up my calls. i've disappointed her too many times. and you ... you," he cleared his throat again. "you weren't an option." he shook his head, a tear landing on his arm. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "but ... but i have this one last chance—"

"—you're hopeless." you cut him off. "you're the worst person i've ever fucking met." subong looked at you, silently pleading to take those words back. "no." he sounded wounded. "you don't ... you don't mean that." "i do. i mean every word." you nodded. "i must have done something really horrible in a past life to be cursed with loving someone as hurtful as you." "no ..." he shook his head, his palms flattening his hair. "you don't mean what you're saying." "i do!" you yelled, voice cracking, heartbeat in your throat. a shaky breath left his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling and blinking fast, waterline feeling heavy. "no ... no, no." he muttered to himself. he took your face in his hands, eyes darting around your features, making them out even in the meek lighting of the slowly emerging sunrise. you stared blankly at the floor, emotionless between his palms.

"you don't mean those words. i know you don't." he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself. "you don't mean them." his fingers combed your hair out of your face. "i've been trying so hard. i'm so fucking scared, baby." subong shook his head quickly, but it didn't halt his falling tears. "i f-fucked up so bad." he whispered, lips quivering. he pressed kisses to your supple skin, attempting to fill the eerie silence. "but i promise—" his lips peppering your face. "i promise i'm going to fix all of this. i have a plan." subong tasted something salty, seeing a tear having fallen down your cheek. "no, no." he tutted gently, kissing it away. "don't cry. you're too beautiful to cry over a loser like me, baby." he kissed that same spot. "no, no. don't cry. here, let me hold you. come here." his lips trailed to the back of your jaw, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. even in his desperation, he was unsure. his eyes glanced at the glimmer of your dainty diamond drop earrings. "the earrings look good on you. you've always had good taste." he muttered against your shoulder. you didn't move. nor say a word. the silence was killing him. "i've been scared for so long." he whispered. your shoulder felt wet. "please ... please hold me."

he said no apology. no "i'm sorry," no "i regret this." it was a tale as old as time: redirected sympathy; a murky, multi-layered distraction, him avoiding taking full responsibility. you sympathized with his pain, you felt his hurt and the monstrous circumstance, but at some fucking point, there is only so much you could do. there is so much strength one could muster; so much mercy a heart could offer. this wasn't your problem, and you weren't going to go out of your way to make it yours. it was time to draw the line. right here, right now. you didn't recognize the man before you. he was a stranger: "subong?" "yes?" he responded quickly, a hint of hope in his tone. "when were you going to tell me about your debt?"

subong was silent, but you spoke for him. "when i get a promotion? when i get laid off? when there's an eviction notice on my door? after we elope at the courthouse, or when i tell you you're the father of my baby? hm? when were you going to tell me?" your voice was unexpectedly gentle. his shoulders started to shake, quietly sobbing. "when, subong? when?" "forgive me." he pleaded. "forgive me. please, baby—" "—get off of me." you pushed him away, slipping out of his embrace. he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "you're—you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." "you're the worst!" you exclaimed. "it's exhausting loving you! it's torture! i'm decaying from the inside!"

you took a breath, looking at this pathetic form. "i've forgiven you too much." you shook your head. "you've made me a stranger to myself. you take, and you take, and you take. i share my home, i let you fuck me, i let myself think you respect me—" "—i d-do, baby, i do! i lo—" "—i let you into the deepest, darkest pits of who i am, and you let me cry over your fucking nail polish while you were throwing away millions into something that isn't even fucking real. and you have the audacity to say it was for me?" you gesture to yourself. "as much as i tried to fix you, stupidity is in incurable disease. you're the dumbest person i've ever fucking met. you're not even smart enough to say 'i'm sorry.'"

"i never want to see you again." you turn around, your back facing him. "you don't know me. i don't know you. get out." this was it. you didn't move your eyes from the kitchen floor tiles as you heard him collect his things—the clinking of his belt; his shallow breaths; his heavy, stuttered footsteps; the clean swoosh of his pants as he put them on; over-pronounced inhales; his shoving of his feet into his sneakers—punctuated by the slam of the door. you slowly turned around. the oven read 4:53 AM. you sat on the couch, the silence heavy, only moderately cut through by the sporadic chirping of the birds outside. you sunk into the cheap cushions, hands coming up to your face, chest convulsing.

subong didn't know how long he'd been walking for. he was numb; eyes wet, cheeks swollen, snot dried, sneakers carelessly dragging against the sidewalk. the sun had risen. he could hear the taxis driving by, or catch in his peripheral vision the sight of people hurriedly leaving their apartment buildings as the morning commute commenced, but his gaze never shifted from aimless. he was wandering; nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. his chest heaved and his heart pounded in his temples, feelings buried in an overly complicated web that made his ears ring. subong's tongue was dry from breathing through his mouth, but he was so out of it he didn't bother to close his jaw.

it was the ring of a pedestrian's bike bell that temporarily took him out of this trance, stumbling a few steps to the right, letting them pass. "i'm sorry." he muttered weakly. it was only then that he looked at his surroundings, realizing he was walking along a bridge. seeing the water flow below him without issue made him feel so inconsequentially small, almost as if the car driving by or the subtle whispers of the leaves rattling in the wind told him that no matter what he did, or what he went through, or what he said, nature will be there before and after. "excuse me, sir." a voice said. subong's head felt heavy, but he turned it nonetheless. it was the man in the suit from a week ago. "i forgot to give you this after our game last week." he handed subong what looked to be a business card. "my sincerest apologies. i kindly ask that you forgive me, sir." with that, he walked away.

you woke up on the couch in the late morning, having slept through your phone alarm. you had the day off, so that wasn't exactly a concern, only to jolt awake from seering pain on side of your neck and lower back from falling asleep in such a cramped, awkward position. it was hot in the apartment again. you gradually stood on your feet, carefully stretching. "fuck." you mutter under your breath. you moved to the bathroom. you peeled your clothes off, throwing them mindlessly into the hamper. before you stepped into the shower, the glimmer of your earrings caught your sight. you tucked your hair back, staring hard into the mirror. memories of the night previous came rushing back. your quivering lip made you mad all over again, quickly taking the earrings off, throwing them into the trash bin without second thought.

you did errands. you went to work the next day. you quit your job three months later, having landed a better paying one on the opposite side of the city. a year later, you were longed moved out of your small studio and into your one bedroom abode, equipped with an in house dryer and washer. you had new friends. you had a new life. in the end, you really did get your wish of never seeing subong again.

[mokulule]

Haunt is where the Heart is

Fandom: DP x DC Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

Summary: Danny is down on his luck. He meets Jason. Both of them are a bit weirded out by their own behavior, but it works out in the end.

Chapter 1

Danny sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. He leaned on his elbows at the tiny kitchen counter in his one room apartment. He crumbled up the final notice in his hand.

He was out of options. Damn Skulker just had to find a way to Amity when he’d just managed to find a job willing to give him a chance and that was that; he was out of a job before he even got his first pay check, whatever he had earned was deducted to cover the damages.

It was a week ago they turned off the utilities and in two days he was out of an apartment entirely.

He slid down on the cold floor and looked up at the mold that had started to creep in on the ceiling after the tenant above him had a broken pipe.

Dread coiled in his stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the mold or the cold or the fact he’d charged his phone at the library the last week because he had no power and everything to do with the thought that he might have to move back home.

Home, a house wired to kill him the rest of the way… He shuddered at his core at being back there, always alert, never knowing what tweaks his parents had made to the defense systems and whether they remembered to make an exception for his oddly high ecto-signature.

But what choice did he have?

His parents would be delighted, they still didn’t understand why he moved out. Especially not for that sad excuse for a flat. Especially not when he could follow in the family footsteps. They didn’t require a high school diploma from him after all. He could just hear his mom: really Sweetie, it is for the best.

He could help reassemble the portal, for some reason they just couldn’t seem to get it working.

He closed his eyes wishing himself away. To Sam and Tucker who were thousands of miles away and not even in the same direction, but he had asked them to follow their dreams. To Jazz who used to serve as a buffer between him and their parents.

Maybe he should have broken the portal from the inside, stayed in the ghost zone instead of this.

He should have left Amity when he had the chance, should have found a new haunt, but what if ghosts found a crack to slip through? Like Skulker had done. And well, now he couldn’t afford it.

His thoughts circled back to home, and he held himself tightly. He couldn’t go back there. But Amity was too small or rather the Fenton’s were too known for him to be homeless, it would be noticed.

He just didn’t have a viable solution.

Oo o oO

Five days later he sat in a diner at a rest stop a little way out of Amity, thinking if he widened his job search to outside the city perhaps he could find someone who would give him a job. With the ability to fly it wasn’t like the commute was a problem.

Officially he’d moved the few belongings from the apartment back to his parents house, but he’d yet to sleep there. He just couldn’t get himself to do so. Every moment in that house he was on high alert, and after trying for hours that first night he’d finally relented to his body’s need to get the fuck away and found an open box of packing peanuts in a warehouse to crash in - the fact that Danny kinda missed Boxy had been the topping on a very long day.

His parents didn’t understand Danny’s need to look for a job, but at least they hadn’t been overly insistent on keeping him at home.

He turned the page in Elmerton Times scanning the job listings for something without unreasonable expectations. Why did a cleaning job require three years of experience? Also did cleaning his parents’ biohazard of a lab since he was eight count?

With a frown he noted it down as a maybe.

The door opened and a young man looking to be around Danny’s age walked in drawing Danny’s attention, though at first he couldn’t tell why…

Sure he looked well enough aesthetically: fit, broad shouldered - but if a pair of muscled shoulders and a nice ass was all it took to draw Danny’s attention Dash would have been a contender. The leather jacket and motorcycle helmet was cool, but it reminded Danny of Valerie.

Really, Danny wouldn’t normally be staring at a stranger at all like this. He’d realized a couple of years ago that his crush on Paulina was just because everyone else was doing it, and young teen Danny had been desperate to fit in.

So what was it that made him stare?

The stranger turned his head revealing a lock of snow white hair in his bangs he was definitely too young for. He narrowed his eyes at Danny and Danny’s eyes widened in turn before he was quick to look down at the newspaper and his by now cold coffee.

Tension wound up his spine when booted steps approached his table ominously. Danny couldn’t decide what he was feeling. Embarrassment for staring? Fear? Excitement?

The stranger cleared his throat and spoke in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

“Can I sit here?”

Danny looked up with wide eyes, gaze running over the subtle lines that to his eyes clearly held concealed weapons before settling on the man’s face. There was a deceptively friendly smile on his lips, but his blue-green eyes were hard and assessing. A gruesome scar scar ran from the corner of his upper lip all the way up the left side of his face - Danny quickly focused back on his eyes before shrugging.

“Sure.”

Danny purposely went back to the newspaper noting down another maybe as the stranger sat dow across him, bumping Danny’s knees with his long denim clad legs. Danny’s heart sped up in his chest for no determinable reason.

“Looking for work?”

Danny looked up then looked pointedly back at the paper open on the job section. “Geh, what gave it away?”

He got a smirk in response that was more genuine than the earlier smile and his own lips tugged up in response.

“Guess, I asked for that.”

The waitress came over with a big plate of still steaming scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon as well as a cup of coffee. Danny couldn’t help eyeing the plate. When was the last time he had such a substantial meal?

“I’ll have another of those,” the stranger told the waitress indicating the plate before pushing it across to Danny rumpling the paper in the process.

Danny looked at him surprised. He was about to open his mouth - to protest or thank him? He wasn’t entirely sure - but he got waved off.

“None of that. Just eat. You look like you need it.”

Danny frowned thoughtfully, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. At the first bite he moaned and leaned back as the greasy food hit the spot in his stomach.

The stranger let him eat for a while. He was observing Danny with a peculiar frown on his face every time Danny stole a glance at him. It didn’t take long for his own plate of food to arrive and Danny was glad for the distraction. Could it be that for some reason Danny was just as interesting to the stranger as the stranger inexplicably was to Danny?

Finally Danny pushed the plate away.

“So looking for work?” The stranger tried again after a moment of silence.

“I’m not doing anything illegal,” Danny said firmly crossing his arms and leaning back.

The man barked a short laugh in surprise.

“What makes you think I’d involve you in anything illegal?”

Danny’s gaze flicked pointedly to the barest outlines of the hidden weapons, before he raised an eyebrow.

“Point,” the stranger grinned tapping a finger thoughtfully on the table. What Danny would give to know what went through his head. Then he offered a hand towards Danny for a handshake.

Danny suspiciously took the glowed hand in his own and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Jason.” The stranger gave his name expectantly, and Danny felt compelled to offer his own, it was only polite.

“Danny.”

“Nice to meet you.” He said as he let Danny go.

“Remains to be seen.”

He grinned again at Danny’s sass. After a moment he pursed his lips thoughtfully before finally speaking.

“So here’s the deal. I’m moving back to my hometown and I’m looking for a roommate slash housekeeper to take care of the apartment when I’m gone since I travel a lot.”

Danny blinked in surprise. Then narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not having sex with you either.”

That stumped this Jason character, and Danny could believe the idea had not even occurred to him. That was at least one point in his favor and Danny relented.

“You gotta realize how weird and creepy this is? So what’s going on? We don’t know eachother.”

“I don’t-“ Jason rubbed his forehead, then leaned back almost as if taking a step back considering his actions. Hesitantly he said, “You seem a bit down on your luck, and I really could use someone to live in the apartment when I’m not around. A mostly empty apartment is easy pickings for break-ins. And it is big enough.”

He tilted his head, somehow the green in his eyes looked more pronounced when the light hit them like that. “And you seem trustworthy, somehow.”

“Well you don’t.”

He outright laughed at that. He really was nice to look at when he smiled, Danny mused. It made him look his age, took away the hard calculation in his gaze. Made him look less like some kind of hitman - which was Danny’s current theory as to Jason’s profession.

And - Danny supposes - there were worse jobs than being a live-in housekeeper to a hitman as long as he kept Danny out of his work. For one it would solve his housing situation - and just the thought that he was gonna have to go home to his parents' house at the end of the day to make an appearance crawled like skittering insects down his spine.

Once Danny was out somewhere more stable, he could also look for something new.

It didn’t solve his worry about the ghosts coming to Amity despite the portal being shut down, but while Jason did not at all ping Danny as trustworthy, there was still that something that drew Danny’s attention. Something he knew would eat at him if he left things at this.

“Okay, so say I agree, what then?”

Jason blinked in surprise clearly at this point not expecting Danny to agree - that made two of them.

“Uh, I suppose I give you the address. It’s in Gotham. You could ride with me, but you probably need to pack. Do you need funds for travel?”

He was already reaching inside his leather jacket and pulling out a roll of cash. Danny started laughing because this whole situation was ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” he said, placatingly holding up a hand and trying to stop laughing, “I just can’t believe I’m doing this.“

Jason huffed. “I will give you that the entire situation is odd."

Their eyes met, two pairs of blue with a hint of hidden green. Danny couldn't help the smile that spread his lips. Jason rolled his eyes, but Danny could see him fighting a smile of his own.

Hitman or not, Jason seemed an okay sort - and, Danny mused, when taking a leap of faith it was a big advantage that one could fly.

-

Alternatively how early days Red Hood acquired a protector spirit for the fallback safehouse where he actually keeps his belongings.

Okay so I don't know when I will continue this, the future of this fic is still pretty vague in my head it's mostly like a mood of ace-spectrum Danny and Jason occasionally living together while Jason prepares to and eventually does upend the Gotham criminal underworld and everything goes up in fire.

Anyways, did you like it? Thoughts?

Edit: now with a masterpost you can subscribe to

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ a quiet love ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ james potter x shy!reader ୨୧ not all love was like the movies portrayed them, but that doesn't mean it isn't good a/n: (1.9k words) happy valentines day!

Honestly you two getting together shocked everyone, even James himself was surprised you agreed to date him. You both were polar opposites, he was loud and outgoing while you were quiet and shy.

You both did have things in common though, like your kind hearts, your infectious humor and your Transfiguration class. Which coincidentally was how you both met.

You'd been failing behind on the assignments and Professor McGonagall assigned James to tutor you just until your grade rose a little higher.

You both agreed to meet at the far back upper level of the library. You were so sure he would bail. It wasn't hard to hear about James Potter and his troublemaker friends around school. But he'd showed up, on time and with a set of notes and books for you both to look over.

Everytime you think back to those early study sessions you cringe at your past self. It would've been easier to talk to a startled turtle. The most you said was a swift 'see you later' once the session had ended.

But that never deterred James. If anything it seemed to push him to get past your walls. He was nothing but patient and kind while explaining the Flobberworm to Fritter incantation all the way to explaining the Bird-Conjuring Charm and everything in between.

Eventually you did warm up to him. Your quiet word responses turned to shy short sentences. Then by the time you were passing Transfiguration with flying colors you and James were able to laugh and joke together.

Once the study lessons were over, he invited you to Hogsmeade with him the following weekend. No one had ever tried asking you before and you'd only gone there once with the second year tour, so you were very excited to go, and with such a good-looking boy too. You were over the moon!

The weekend trips became a regular every two week deal between you both. As well as Friday afternoons you both would study in your old spot in the library together.

After a few months of this sweet routine, one Friday the library was cleaned as someone threw a smoke bomb or three inside, which stained the walls and floors with multicolored powder. James had sworn to you it wasn't him but you caught that gleam in his eyes and shook your head in dismay.

He'd offered to study in his dorm, he said him and his friends found a way to disenchant the staircase when they needed to, you chose not to think too hard on the reason why.

He'd led you to the Gryffindor common room which unsurprisingly was styled in red and gold. You both passed fellow students sitting in the red couches that were placed around the fireplace, and past the students sat by the tall windows at desks. Thankfully both groups of your peers were engrossed in their gossip or studies to pay attention to the rule breaking happening in front of them. Or maybe they were used to James breaking the rules.

James flicked his wand and the winding staircase shimmered a silver colour and he ushered you up quickly. As you reached the top of the stairs you were met with a long hallway with two brown doors, one on each side. You looked back and the stairs had stopped shimmering and James pointed to the end of the hallway.

At the end of the hallway were two sets of staircases, the left staircase spiraled down and the right side staircase spiraled up. He gently directed you to the right staircase. Thankfully this time not needing to be enchanted. At the top the next level was the same setup as the previous floor. He pointed you to the door on the right.

As you approached the wooden door you could faintly hear muggle music playing from inside. He scooted past you and opened the door for you dramatically. You entered and took in the chaotic room.

A large square rug took up most of the floor, it was red and gold with the Gryffindor crest on it. Sitting down on the rug leaning against the wooden bedframe sat Remus, with a thick book in his hands.

Four beds pushed against each corner of the room, in between each horizontal bed was two chests on either side of the room. The chests seemed to act as dressers, two tidy and neat while the other two looked like a clothes tornado ran through it.

At the opposite wall of you, was two long windows with two desks in front of it and a third in between the gap. Two of the desks had books and papers stacked on and around them. The last desk was occupied by a blonde boy who you recognized as Peter. He was hunched over the wooden desk scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

The walls were littered with muggle posters of bands and singers, along with various quidditch players. A record player was blaring a muggle song you hadn't heard before from the right corner bedside.

Lying flat on his stomach on the farthest right bed was Sirius. Of course it was his music playing, you thought with a small smile. James had told you about his friends before formally meeting them, not like you hadn't observed them when running from different Professors.

Sirius was the only one to look up. His pretty eyes met yours.

"Well, isn't this a delightful surprise?" His teasing voice lifted over the music. He quickly sat up, leaning over the record player and turned it down slightly.

"What's a doll like you hanging around ol' Jamie?" His playful smirk widened as you felt your face warm in embarrassment. James had warned you about this.

"Oi, piss off we're studying" James' loud voice held no real heat to them which eased you greatly.

"Ah, 'studying' sure. Uh-huh. You want us to leave you two love birds alone then?" Sirius said very theatrically. If your face was warm before, it was burning now. You could almost feel the heat waves bouncing off you. You hoped no one could tell.

Remus looked up from his seat on the floor. "What're you studying?"

You looked down in surprise, you'd almost forgot he was there. It was even more surprising he was looking at you when he asked. You gulped.

"Transfiguration and Potions" You fumbled out, you felt victorious that you hadn't stuttered through it.

"I have some notes from Potions class if you need it" He said softly before returning to his book. You realized he was shifting the subject away from Sirius and his teasing. How sweet.

"Thanks Moony" James walked and flicked through the papers scattered on one of the free desks before muttering something to Peter that made him start to scribble faster and pick up a bigger textbook. James grabbed a handful of notes and showed you to the closed bed to the door on the left. He sat leaned against the pillows while you sat with your back against the wall.

He handed you Remus' notes and started opening up the textbooks.

You often thought back to that day, and how nervous you were to befriend James in the first place. You often laughed about it. Right now you were on your way to those exact dorms.

James had taught you the spell to make it easier to visit their dorm whenever you needed to. You used the well used spell and made your way up towards their room.

The four boys were scattered around the room when you entered. James' smile widened at the sight of you.

"Love! I was just thinkin' about you" He practically sang from where he laid on his bed.

"When aren't you?" Sirius snorted from his spot on his bed, where he read a muggle magazine with his head hanging off his bed.

"Sorry sweetie but I'm not here for you just yet" You walked past James' bed straight towards his neighbor where Remus sat with a notebook in his hand writing away.

James made a dramatic gasp, his cries echoed around the room. In what he'd call 'utter dismay' which was what you'd call a hilarious performance.

"Hi Remus" You smiled sweetly at him, trying to batter your eyelashes at him.

"Hi flower" He smirked, knowing what you were doing he leaned into his trunk roof pocket and pulled out some of his famous chocolate.

You giggled, "Thank you!" You childishly ran back towards James' bed and flopped down next to him while guarding your precious sweets from him.

"What the hell?" Sirius's head whipped up so fast you almost winced for him.

"How'd you do that?" Peter practically whined out from where he sat in his bed munching on Fudge Flies and Jelly Slugs while studying.

"This is blatant favoritism!" Sirius now kneeled on his bed, waving his hands around while James fell back onto his pillows laughing loudly.

"This isn't funny, do you have any idea how long it took to bribe him for some? all she had to do was ask!" Sirius wailed. Remus hid his chuckles behind his notebook.

"I guess I'm just the favourite, huh Sirius?" You teased from the safety of James' bed.

Sirius scoffed flopping backwards into his bed.

"I liked you better when you were quiet" He grumbled into his pillow which he'd placed over his head.

You turned around to face James. His cheeks were flushed from all his laughter and his glasses were slightly wonky. You reached and corrected their position on his pretty face. He gently smiled at you.

“Hi” He whispered, his eyes tracing your face with a warmth that left you giddy.

“Hi there” You whispered back with a giggle.

He lovingly kissed your cheek, then moved to your temple, then above your eyebrow. Which made you giggle. He kissed the bridge of your nose. He kissed you only just missing your lips with a soft laugh.

Kissing James never felt like fireworks or a spark, it felt soft and warm like a beloved blanket keeping you safe from the cold.

“We’re supposed to be studying” You gave a half-suppressed laugh.

“Mhm, yeah but that’s not as interesting as you are Love” He teased with a playful smirk.

“Ya know we can still hear you right? It’s revolting” Sirius chimed in, loudly expressing his concerns.

James reached behind him, lifting his pillow from behind him he threw it across the room hitting Sirius straight in the face.

Both you and Peter cracked up at Sirius’ briefly stunned face.

“This is war Prongs” Sirius said rather seriously, ironically.

“You’re on Pads” James narrowed his eyes and grabbed the last pillow left on his bed and hopped up.

Both boys raced towards each other in a very heated pillow fight. James kept aiming for Sirius’ hair, which wasn’t taken well. Sirius aimed for James' legs in hopes of knocking him over.

“They’ll be at it for awhile” Remus sighed, like this was a regular occurrence which it probably was you though. 

Remus placed his notebook back into his trunk and pulled out even more of his sweet chocolate. Remus looked between you and Peter with an unspoken question.

You and Peter ran and jumped on Remus’ bed, and he shared his chocolate between you three as you all watched the two doofus’ battle each other.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Strawberry Sweet

── Azriel x Fem!Witch/Fae Hybrid Reader

also featuring platonic best friend! cassian x reader, and platonic best friend! rhysand x reader

I ~ INTRODUCTIONS ── PART TWO ── TABLE OF CONTENTS

based on [THESE] lyrics

obviously not book canon. references to battles that didn’t happen in the books, ooc inner circle, etc… 🤷🏻‍♀️ no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no descriptions other than reader being shorter than all 3 bat boys. reader is also able to winnow.

When you first met Azriel, you were sure he hated you.

With the rest of the inner circle, it had been easy. You met the High Lord first after saving his life, and you remembered the day like it happened yesterday.

Rhysand had taken to the skies one night, flying over Velaris and looking down at everything below. An ambush on Day Court had all the high lords on edge, with the message that the attackers weren’t finished being loud and clear. He knew it was bad when Helion reached out personally.

When he was attacked, it was 5 against 1. He ended up plummeting nearly 1,000 feet. As luck would have it, you were just returning home from a very late night trip to the markets.

Ever the quick thinker, you snapped your fingers, and all of your purchased goods floated into your home and all put themselves in their proper place. Then you turned your attention to the man falling from the sky. You held out a hand, and a blue light so dark that they almost resembled shadows, flowed from your palm and slowed the man’s descent just before he hit the ground.

You used your other hand to turn you both invisible until you were able to get him into your home.

To keep a long story short, because that was a tale for another time, it took a lot longer to heal him than you thought. You don’t know how much time passed, all you know is that it was completely dark outside when he fell but when you finished, you could see the sun was about to rise.

Rhysand woke up not long after you finished healing his wings.

You anticipated the first question he asked, so you beat him to it. Giving him a brief version, you explained that you were half witch, half fae. You didn’t explain your family history, or how you came to live alone. There was a sense of relief when he didn’t ask more questions, though you could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to.

“Not that I don’t love hosting you, but shouldn’t you be going? I’d imagine a lot of people are worried about you.”

You felt him trying to get into your mind, and wished you could’ve taken a picture of his face when you told him that wouldn’t be possible unless you allowed it. Centuries of practice ensured that even the strongest mind reader wouldn’t be able to access your thoughts so easily.

When he finally felt strong enough to stand, you followed closely behind him as he headed to the door.

“I’m not officially a healer, obviously, but if you ever need help, you may return. I only ask that you don’t tell anyone that I’m here. If word gets to the wrong person—”

“I won’t tell a soul, you have my word. You’ve saved my life, and I owe you a debt far greater than anything I could pay you.”

You shook your head and insisted you didn’t need, or want, money.

“Well if there’s ever anything you need, no matter how big the request, please come find me.”

“Thank you, High Lord. I will keep that in mind.”

He managed a small smile. “You used magic to stitch part of my wings back together, please, at least call me Rhys. Or Rhysand if it makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded and after he thanked you again for saving his life, and after you said you did it because you wanted to help and not because you wanted something, he took to the skies. You wondered if you’d ever see him again.

But there was still a war going on, and you shouldn’t have been that surprised when he returned a few weeks later. What did surprise you, and even made you a little angry, was that he had not 1, but 2 people with him. Not living under a rock, you recognized them right away. And this was how you ended up meeting Cassian and Nesta.

That anger disappeared when you saw just how injured Cassian was. He could barely stand, even Nesta was having to help keep him upright.

Turning around, you went back into your home and snapped your fingers. Seconds later, everything on your dining table lay in neat piles on the floor. You were thankful that you’d opted for a larger table, and don’t think he would’ve fit on your bed.

You got to work healing him the moment Rhys set him down on the table. Although you worked fast in an attempt to ease his pain, it was clear he was still in a lot of it.

“I need to put him to sleep. He has broken bones and I promise none of you want him awake when I put them back in place.” You looked up at Nesta then, and for the first time since entering your home, her gaze left her mates, and she looked at you.

Unable to speak, she only nodded, silently giving you permission. He was out not long after that, and you worked for another 2 hours until you were satisfied that he’d be alright.

Nesta finally spoke up then, asking if you were going to wake him up. You explained that while putting him to sleep was fairly easy, you didn’t think it was the best idea to wake him up. That required going deep into his mind and wandering around until you found the part of it where he was waiting. That act in itself would give you access to every thought and memory that Cassian has ever had, and you didn’t like to do that to anyone without their explicit permission.

After explaining that it wouldn’t be long before he woke up on his own, as you redid one of Cassian’s bandages, you noticed Nesta give Rhys a look. He only shook his head and whispered that he trusted you.

You were right as you knew you would be, and it was just 10 minutes later that the general of the Night Court was opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Why… am I on a table??”

Nesta hated showing any sign of being vulnerable, so none were more shocked than Rhys and Cassian when she walked over to you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly. “I don’t know how we can repay you.”

You smiled when the 2 of you stepped apart. “No payment is needed, or wanted. I promise—” It felt like all the air left your body when Cassian took his turn with a hug, only he lifted you off of the ground and seemed to be trying to squeeze the life out of you.

“Cass, I happen to like her and would appreciate you not killing her.”

“Sorry! Just, you know, thanks for saving my life.“

After they left , all repeatedly thanking you on their way out, you wondered if what just happened was some sort of fever dream.

Over the next few months, the 3 would occasionally pop in, but all for different reasons. Rhys was still fascinated by you being half witch, half fae. All he wanted to do was sit and ask questions, and he’d hang on to every word you spoke as you answered. Cassian, who insisted you call him Cass, did come to you for healing. But for ‘injuries’ he very much could’ve handled on his own. He healed faster than a normal human, but you lost count of the amount of times you opened your door, or he opened it and barged in, telling you about a paper cut or the smallest bruise.

The first time Nesta came to visit, and you greeted her with “Lady Nesta”, you almost laughed at the daggers she sent your way. You quickly learned it was just Nesta, or Nes. During her second visit, the subject of fighting somehow came up. You mentioned your basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, but that you wished you were more advanced, or at least knew how to fight with a weapon. Ever since then, she’d come to visit at least once a week to try and convince you to join her on training with the Valkyries.

“I don’t know that I’d actually be any good,” you admitted, adding on that you were so used to fighting with your powers that you genuinely couldn’t remember what it was like to do so without them.

A month of pestering persuading had you finally agreeing to sit in on a training session with the Valkyries. And that was how you came to meet Azriel.

The following day, Nesta showed up at your front door bright and early. Well not bright, since the sun had yet to even rise, but with how you felt as you slowly got dressed, you knew it was definitely early. She assured you that Valkyries didn’t always train so early, but she wanted to get some one-on-one training with you.

After a brief discussion in which she promises you’ll end up having fun, you ask if all of her family will be training. She says no, with the Valkyries it’s usually only her and Cass. Rhys occasionally pops his head in to observe, but has been busy with everything going on so not so much lately.

“Oh I forgot you haven’t met everyone yet. Feyre, my sister and Rhys’ mate, prefers to train solo so you probably won’t see her today. Then there’s Azriel, he used to train with us a lot, well help train the women, but Rhys has been sending him out a lot lately. What with everyone being on edge from the attacks, we’re all eager to find out who’s behind it all.”

She explains where to go and you take her hand, winnowing you both to the training grounds.

“There she is!” You jump a little at Cass’ voice. He’s all the way on the other side of the room, but so loud that it’s as if he’s right next to you. He puts down a stack of papers and quickly makes his way over to you and Nesta. “You’re just in time, look.” He holds up his hand, showing you the tiniest of paper cuts on his left index finger.

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hand in yours and use your powers to close the cut.

Nesta shakes her head. “For a warrior, you sure are a big baby.” She turns to you, “you can just tell him to suck it up next time.”

Cass gasps, putting his hands on his face. “She’d never do that! At least she cares about me.”

“Do I really though?” You tilt you head.

“Hey! Just for that I’m not going easy on you today.”

“Wait you’re training me?”

“I’m going to take that as wait really! Wow I’m so lucky Cassian the general of the Night Court is training me. Now chop chop, let’s go!” He gently pushes you towards one of the larger mats on the ground.

You turn back to Nesta, who only shrugs and mouths good luck, before joining the other women.

Much like when you were focused on healing Rhys and Cass, time goes by in a blur. Before you know it, you’ve managed to knock Cass onto his back for the third time. You look at a clock nearby and find that nearly 2 hours have gone by.

“Woo!” The 2 of you stop and turn towards the door and see Feyre leaning against the door frame, clapping as she calls out your name and shouts his congratulations.

Cass rolls his eyes, but smiles when you hold out a hand to help him to his feet. “You kicked my ass today, I’d be a little upset if I wasn’t so impressed.”

When you use your powers to immediately dry all of your sweat, you’re happy you get to use your powers for more mundane things like this.

“Ahem!”

Now it’s you turn to roll your eyes. Still, you face one of your hands towards Cass, and he’s also dry just a few seconds later.

“Thank you,” he gives a dramatic bow before telling you all he’s going to go shower.

Before you can ask why he made you do that if he was just planning to shower anyway, Feyre finally approaches you and Nesta. You become aware of how affectionate the inner circle can be, when Feyre pulls you in for a hug, not saying anything for a moment.

“You saved Rhys, I owe you everything. Thank you,” she whispers.

“I promise, you don’t owe me a thing,” you shake your head. “I’m just happy he ended up falling outside of my home. If it had been anywhere else I wouldn’t have seen it, or I wouldn’t have been able to slow his fall.”

Cass pops his head back in the room. “Anyone know if Az is coming by to train later? I couldn’t get a hold of him earlier.”

Feyre nods, “he got back less than an hour ago, I think he told Rhys he’d be by here at some point. Oh, never mind.”

The last part of her sentence comes when she looks toward the door, this time towards the ground. You watch as what looks like a series of small clouds slowly makes their way towards you. Upon closer inspection, you realize they’re shadows.

“Azriel is a shadowsinger, right?” When Nesta nods, you continue. “Do they often travel like this without him?”

“No,” Feyre watches them get closer. “I mean they can if he sends them somewhere but I don’t see why he’d send them here when he knows it’s only us…”

When the shadows finally reach you, they move faster as if they’re excited. One makes its way to the top of your head, swirling around your face. It’s a cool, almost ticklish sensation. Another weaves its way around your legs, while the last one circles your hands, as if it can sense the power you hold.

Healer.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean I guess technically yes, among other things. But I’m still working on my healing abilities so—” You look up to find Nesta, Feyre, and Cass all staring at you. “What?”

Cass just stares at you, now with his mouth open in shock.

“We didn’t say anything…”

“Wait did — were you talking to the shadows??”

Now you were confused. “Yes… it asked, well it said I was a healer and I was just explaining—”

“You can understand them?!”

“I… they don’t speak to all of you?” You watched in amazement as the shadows continued to explore you.

Cass finally breaks his silence. “No. We’ve never heard them say anything. How the hell…”

Magic. Friend.

You smile. Holding your hands out and palms facing up, you produce 2 dark blue clouds a lot similar in appearance to the shadows. They swarm your clouds, but return to you once they realize that they’re not real shadows.

Feyre observes this, a small smile on her face. “Interesting.”

All at once, 2 of the 3 shadows stop their movements, then quickly make their way back out of the room. A minute later, the shadowsinger himself enters the room.

“Dude!” Cass began to make his way towards his brother, but Nesta elbows him in the ribs as she grabs his arm to keep him in place.

When Azriel looks at you, he freezes. He can only stand and watch as the shadow that remained in the room continues to move between your hands and your head. But when you look up at him, your first thought is that you’ve somehow offended him with your actions, so you drop your hands and step back, closer to Nesta.

The lone shadow finally returns to Azriel, hovering around his right ear. You wish you could hear what it’s telling him.

You’re further embarrassed when all Azriel does is quickly look away from you before he asks Cass to speak to him.

Once the 2 men are out of the room, you voice your concerns out loud. “I should apologize when Azriel comes back in.”

Nesta looks at you, clearly confused. “What, why would you apologize? You haven’t done anything.”

“I just… I don’t think he liked that his shadows were paying so much attention to me. I don’t know if he heard me speaking to one but I don’t want to offend him or cause any trouble.”

Feyre’s expression softened. She replaced Nesta at your side, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “That’s just Azriel, at least with someone he isn’t familiar with yet. It’s not often we bring anyone new around. He just needs time.”

You didn’t stay much longer after that, chatting to the 2 Archeron sisters for only a few more minutes before making an excuse to leave. It was obvious why you were in such a rush, but you were grateful that neither woman tried to persuade you to stay.

When you finally winnowed back to your home, you forced yourself to take a shower before collapsing onto your bed. Maybe a nap was what you needed.

You couldn’t help but think about Azriel. Everyone else was quick to warm up to you, and you still thought that you offended him by how you interacted with his shadows.

As you lay there and waited for sleep to pull you under, you wondered if he’d end up hating you.

what a shitty place to end it hahdjdnsdkc BUT part 2 picks up right where this leaves off! if i kept going we’d end the chapter at like 6k which is too long for my liking.

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[hardlyinteresting]

Stop in the middle

Jake Seresin x reader

Two sides of the same coin; they were joined at the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”.

So much wine by Phoebe Bridgers  Somewhere else by Indians Abbey by  Mitski

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, (call sign Angel), with no physical description, crash landing, wilderness survival, major injuries (non-graphic description), discussions of death, happy ending though (I promise!), hurt/comfort, idiots in love, possible Navy inaccuracies, (please let me know if you'd like me to add anything else)

Word Count: 4.7K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

 Laying in the snow she watches the sun rise inch by inch over the tree line. The sky bathed in a soft orange glow that warms her skin for what she can only assume will be the last time. He’ll hate her for leaving him without saying goodbye, but her voice has already left her and her arms are too weak to shake him from his slumber. 

In the distance the cotton fluff clouds rest on the peaks of the mountains; tremendous contrast so perfectly balanced. She feels each of Hangman's breaths expanding the firm plane of his chest as her breathing grows slower. Two days ago she never would have imagined dying in the arms of Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin. 

---

They had taken off at the barest crack of dawn breaking. 0600 hours. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Take off from the carrier. Fly over. Survey the valley below—report anomalies. Continue the flight path, and land at a nearby ally airbase. Refuel. Return to the carrier. They'd been tasked with flying similar paths for the last two weeks as part of a larger peacekeeping and security effort. As far as deployments go, they were lucky to have been selected to be the joint task force; and more fortunate to not be engaged in active combat. 

Though Hangman would loathe to admit it with his two confirmed air combat kills, she knows herself that no pilot wants to be under enemy fire or in a position to take a life; it's an unfortunate consequence and frequent reality of the job. 

In the time they’ve known each other, she’s heard Jake speak frequently about his mother and her homemade pie waiting for him in Texas. He tells stories about the boys he used to play football with in high school, and family reunions with little nieces and nephews running about barefoot. She’s heard him making plans to buy a home and settle down. He dreams of a future. Anyone paying attention knows that beneath the outwardly cocky exterior, and adrenaline rushes, he's afraid of dying. 

It wasn't enemy fire that took them down two days ago, but rather sudden major malfunctions that left them without any navigation system, defective coms, and an aircraft almost completely unresponsive to pilot commands. Their saving grace had been Hangman's quick thinking to point them towards a clearing in the tree line, and her decision to dump their fuel as they descended rapidly toward the ground. Flying too low to eject safely they braced themselves for impact, an apology for something he could not have stopped on Jake's lips. 

The sounds of alarms and rapid beeping tones woke them. The smell of burning jet fuel startled them into action again. Jake's head stayed lulled forward his eyes slipping shut again before his limbs burst into action with a level of urgency that forced her to react with equal fervour. She watched wide-eyed as Hangman pushed open the canopy pulling himself up and out of his seat, rolling sideways out the opening. Only in watching his exit did she notice the awkward angle the jet had landed at. The nose crumpled by the force of the impact, their wings clipped and lost somewhere in the trees or across the clearing; the body had slid half on its side, a couple hundred feet through revealing mud beneath and leaving a wake of burning grass melting through the powder white snow. A sharp pain threatened to make her lose her breakfast as she clambered from her seat and the tangle of buckles and straps that had saved her life. She tumbled with purpose but little grace out into the frozen valley. 

“Alright?” Hangman asked standing with his back straight as she doubled over trying hard to catch her breath. She nodded but he didn't make any effort to speak or move giving her a moment to collect herself. 

Sucking in the ice-cold air she ignored the searing pain tearing through her rib cage. Her attention drifted from herself back to Jake who swayed on his feet, the soft crunch of snow sounding beneath his feet as he tried to find a place to stand steady. Watching him pale she only grew more convinced Jake was concussed. 

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Dizzy for sure”. 

“Well, we'll thank our lucky stars we crashed in allied territory. Once we find shelter, I'll run a concussion protocol for you.” 

Their non-functioning radios had left them no way to communicate their mayday calls. They had tried in vain to transmit their approximate coordinates as their headsets filled with static. Their navigation system ran haywire, the coordinates too impossible to be accurate in any case. 

His brows furrowed as he turned to survey their crash sight. His usually bright smile had been pulled into a firm line that confirmed to her they'd be stranded for a while. 

A gust of wind reminded them of how exposed they were in the clearing. While enemy scouts wouldn't be an issue, the potential for hypothermia would be. 

“Map. Compass. Let's grab the chutes from the seats as well,” she suggested. Hangman was uncharacteristically quiet in his agreement, giving her a nod of affirmation as they collected what they could from the jet. 

The sun was still high in the sky above them providing decent light though filtered through bare branches and evergreen limbs. Somewhat guarded from the biting wind they allowed themselves to settle for a moment hoping to find their bearings and build a solid plan for their survival. 

Before they began to plummet they had been about a quarter of an hour's flight from the air base on the other side of the valley. Plotting their estimated crash site on the paper map they found themselves nearly 250 miles away from their destination, walking sun up to sun down would still mean a 2-and-a-half day walk. 

“Look alive sunshine,” she teased as Jake's eyes began to droop. He'd let out a laugh his smile surprisingly bright as he tilted his head back to look at her. “You're so bossy,” he complained. 

“I'm about to get bossier, I've got to make sure you don't have a concussion”. 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted. 

“Don't sass me Seresin,” she warned, though she tried to keep the tone playful. 

For years they'd played this game; pushing each other's buttons skirting around the edges of flirtation and toeing the line of verbal bullying. Ribbing him was how she had learned to be affectionate towards him. Giving him a hard time made him flustered, or it made him laugh, and either reaction was a well-welcomed sight that had left a fluttering in her chest. The lighthearted back and forth they'd learned to communicate through made it easier to ignore the sidelong glances, and yearning that had begun to take shape beneath the surface. 

“Alright,” she sighed, pulling the tiny flashlight out of her belt, “eyes on me”.

“They usually are,” he smirked. 

With the light, she checked his eyes and got promising results: no abnormal dilation. Both pupils were even and responsive to light. “Today's date?” She asked him. 

“February twelfth”.

“Your date of birth?” 

“October twenty-first. Nineteen ninety”.

“Any headache, nausea, persistent dizziness?” 

He responded no to all the symptoms and she allowed some relief to fill her knowing the initial symptoms had dissipated and not worsened. Finally, she held one finger up waiting for his eyes to focus. “Follow me,” she said her hand moving to the left, his eyes followed. 

“I'll follow you anywhere,” he said as her hand moved to the right. 

“Don't flirt with me, Hangman”. 

“Wouldn't it be stranger if I didn't? I’m just proving I’m not concussed”. His point was somewhat valid but she didn't let him know she thought so, continuing her evaluation in silence.

He's like this with everyone. She'd been telling herself the same thing for years. You're not special. He'll flirt with anyone. A painful truth that's helped her ignore his beautiful green eyes and warm countenance. 

---

Laying on her back in the snow drawing her last breaths now she wishes she could see those eyes one more time as her vision begins to blur. The blue sky swirls into the emerald pines, the colours lightened by the soft sunlight. The colours like sea glass make her think of him and tears begin to gather behind her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she wants to say but only a pathetic whimper leaves her. She wonders if she would have been kinder to him if she had known she was going to die. Would she have been more honest with her feelings? Or pushed them down deeper in some foolish attempt to protect him? The sun continues to rise and she knows he will wake soon. Selfishly, she hopes she’s drifted off before then, unwilling to see him hurting on her behalf. 

---

“Not concussed, but still a pain in my ass,” she had teased him, pushing his hair off his forehead, double-checking for any wounds. He took her words as permission to keep moving. Each of them threw a parachute pack over their shoulders and continued their walk northeast through the woods. 

By 1900 hours the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and the sky above turned a deep blue dotted by tiny spangling stars. Breathtaking and brilliant it had been easy to forget, just for a moment, where they were. She slung the chute of her shoulders towards the ground hissing at the movement. She hadn't had the time to check herself over. Best case her ribs were bruised, at worst she'd find out they were broken, and there would be nothing to help her until they had access to a medical bay anyway. 

“Are you sure you're okay, Angel?” Hangman asked, using her call sign letting her know he meant business. He was not asking as a friend, he was asking as her teammate. 

“Yes,” she lied. The pain was tolerable, only worsening with sharp or sudden movement. Nothing she couldn't handle, and nothing she would force Jake to worry about. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn't be opposed to stripping you down to check for injuries,” his flirtations softened the conversation in an attempt to get her to tell him the truth. 

“In your dreams,” she responded instead, moving along the base of a nearby tree in hopes of gathering some firewood and kindling.

“Quite frequently, actually,” the wink he shot her way repeats in her head even now piercing through the fourth wall of the masquerade they had built, an honest and boyish confirmation that their feelings for each other were something beyond friendship. 

The plethora of fresh fallen snow meant finding water wasn't an issue of concern. Finding food would be more difficult and that first night under the stars they sat watching the flickering flames of the fire they had built, their empty stomachs rumbling with nothing to fill them. 

Stretched between two trees, one of the parachutes they liberated from their wreck was used as a windscreen, protecting them from the cold. The second one lay draped around their shoulders as an extra layer. 

Proximity wasn't an issue for them. They had spent enough time in cramped cockpits together to be familiar with the sounds of each other breathing. They had sat shoulder to shoulder in briefings enough time that she had memorized the smell of his cologne. And yet, when he put his arm around her to pull her closer in their makeshift cocoon her heart stuttered. How could his hands be so strong when her own wouldn't stop shaking? How could a simple touch warm her from the inside out? His fingers brushed along her side with no real pressure, but still prompted a gasp to escape her. Tears left glass trails on her cheeks in the firelight. 

She tried to turn away from him, to feign sleep but he wouldn't have it. “Hey,” Jake caught her attention, waiting for her to look at him before he continued, “We're going to be okay”. 

She believed him. 

---

Everything about their uniforms has been painstakingly designed to keep them safe. 100% cotton undershirts and pants because the material won't melt to their skin in the event of a cockpit fire. But the surprisingly soft base layers have never stopped the blaze burning inside her. From the moment she laid eyes on Jake Seresin she knew he'd be the beginning and the end of everything. He pushed people away with his cocky attitude, somehow convinced that his refusal to be vulnerable would keep him safe from forming meaningful bonds; that he might get further ahead if he had fewer people to let down. But, he'd let her in. He'd let her break down his walls and climb over the fences he'd tried to put up. She'd held him when he got the news his father had died. On a ship thousands of miles from his home he'd told her about his brother dying when he was a child, and growing up in his shadow. He told her how badly he wanted to make his parents proud and how lonely he had made himself in the process. He'd kissed her forehead as they parted that night, and her world changed forever. 

What had been an embarrassing schoolgirl crush she couldn’t shake had become a push-and-pull relationship neither of them could do without. She knew how to put him in his place when he took a joke too far. He knew how to goad her into showing everyone what she was capable of, refusing to let her slip into the background when he knew she deserved more. 

Two sides of the same coin, they were joined a the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”. She wishes she would have said it. Lying at death’s door she remembers being told that you often regret the things you haven’t done more than you regret the things you did. “I’m in love with you, Jake Seresin,” she whispers to the wind. 

---

Their second day of walking was far more painful than the first. Jake had startled himself awake, his eyes wild as he fought to remember where it was they had ended up. The acceptance of their reality hadn't seemed to comfort him and he grew uncharacteristically quiet as they packed up their makeshift camp. The pine trees towering above them had been kind enough to shed some of their cones while they had lay sleeping in shifts. Though they hadn't offered many, they were able to harvest a handful of pine nuts between the two of them for breakfast. It was nowhere near a meal, but the snack had managed to quiet their angry stomachs for a few minutes.

The ache in her side had grown to become a constant agony. What had started as a negligible strain was now a torment that threatened to collapse her with each footfall. Despite the subzero temperatures, a sweat had broken out across her brow, and the heat spreading up the back of her neck left her wanting to strip off her cold weather jacket and flight suit. 

“Have you ever had rabbit?” Jake asked around noon. His footsteps had slowed enough for her to catch up with him. His voice had startled her after all the silence. 

“I can't say that I have,” she answered. A gunshot pulled her from her thoughts and she realized she hadn't ever answered out loud. Jake stood a few feet ahead of her, his service pistol in his hand. The world around her was spinning. The trees blurring together as a sudden wave of nausea filled her. She could hear her name being called; muffled and distorted. Jake. His face soon filled her line of vision. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he told her, but her mind still struggled to put the pieces together. For a moment it felt like she was underwater, all her breath gone from her lungs and all she could feel was the scalding pain burning from the inside out. Momentarily she entertained the idea that it was her who had been shot until she spotted the rabbit lying lifeless in the snow. 

“We need to eat,” Jake spoke again, “you're going quiet on me and I don't like that-- we’ll get some energy in you again before we keep moving”.

The very idea of eating anything threatened to leave her dry-heaving, but she took advantage of the moment to rest. He didn't mention her lack of assistance building a fire or preparing the rabbit, but she watched with incredible focus his hands moving with precision and surprising gentleness for the task at hand. 

She can recall him telling her stories about his childhood, standing on step stools to reach the countertop in his mother's kitchen rolling out pie crusts and later on slicing apples. He once told her that it was his mother who had taught him patience and gratitude while they baked together; two traits he had neglected to exhibit far too often in his adult life. 

She listened to him thank the rabbit for its life as he cut away pieces to feed to her. There was an unmistakable love in the way he moved, his eyes cast over his shoulder to check on her. Slowly, she realized that she was not doing a good job hiding her suffering. In a fleeting thought, she imagined Jake having to carry her lifeless body for the rest of their journey. In their line of work, it had never been considered morbid to have funeral plans from a young age. Flying with him for years she had learned to trust him implicitly, despite the call sign he'd earned and worked tirelessly to recover from she knew early on that he'd do right by her. Challenging authority, but always following the rules; complete and unwavering dedication to whatever task he had at hand; precision and perfection in the execution of his duties be it laundry or taking down a fighter jet midair. As her energy continued to leave her she took comfort in knowing her life would be in Hangman's hands. 

“I'm not hungry,” she said to him. 

“You need to eat,” he insisted again but didn't push any farther. With a longanimity he forgot he possessed, and a magnanimity he couldn't credit himself for carrying he cared for her; making the executive decision to make camp early as her seemingly catatonic state worsened. She managed to chew and swallow bites of the gamey meat, her body grateful for the nutrition.  

Night fell too soon after and the sound of the wind in the trees and the rustle of creatures that may have been lurking left both of them far more on edge than they had been the night before. 

“Scoot closer,” she whispered to him, and he complied without complaint. Neither of them was warm, but their proximity to the fire helped them imagine they could be. His shoulder bumped hers and she leaned her head against him. “Put your arm around me?” She asked. He complied again this time with more hesitation. 

“You know if you wanted to snuggle with me you could've just said so,” he teased though she could tell his heart wasn't in it. 

“I'm scared,” she confessed, a half-truth. She was terrified, feeling her heart rate starting to slow by the minute, her vision slipping in and out of focus. 

“We're going to make it home,” he whispered, both arms wrapped around her now, his lips pressed to her hairline. Tears blurred in her eyes and she gave up fighting back a sob, body shaking and heartbreaking. “I won't let anything happen to you,” he said so sincerely. She cried harder knowing she had already broken that promise for him. 

She had realized she'd lost feeling in her fingers and toes when he'd begun to trace shapes on her back. Her digits buzzed with needles and pins and her limbs had began to feel heavy. Bile rose in her throat choking her as she scrambled to get her distance before dinner made a reappearance. Jake didn't make a fuss, or make his worry known, but she could tell that her perturbation had begun to seep beneath his calm, cool, mien. His hand shook as he rubbed her back hoping her coughing fit might free her off the anxiety and discomfort that had overtaken her. 

She can remember almost every time Jake Seresin has touched her. The memories float suspended in golden warmth, kept safe from the things theyve done, and the things they’ve seen. She holds those moments of fleeting, passing goodness, near to her heart. The smallest reminders that Hangman has a heart; and it’s full of love to give, and on some occasions, she has allowed herself to believe she could be worthy of that love. 

He used to sit beside her in the mess hall no matter how many seats were available; his broad shoulders bumping her own, his elbow knocking at her ribs, their hands brushing as he slid his mashed potatoes onto her plate and she slid her green beans onto his. Silent and symbiotic in their bond, determined to look out for one another. 

The first New Year's Eve they were able to spend together off base was spent with as many friends as possible and too much liquor to handle. Neither of them got a midnight kiss because she was spilling her guts in the alleyway behind the bar, Jake by her side saying “I told you not to do shots after drinking a glass of wine”.  But his satisfied smirk was overshadowed by the genuine concern in his eyes and the steady warm hand he'd placed on her back. “There you go, you'll feel better once you get it all out”. He was drunk himself, his words half slurred but no less encouraging. She had thought then that he was seeing her at her worst. She knows now that she was wrong. 

By some miracle they had been deployed together more often than not. At first it was pure coincidence, but over time it became clear that together they were a dynamic duo with a combined force and efficiency they're commanding officers could not deny, and were often interested in capitalizing on. They had become two halves of a whole, a packaged pair anyone would be disinclined to separate. Still, they had not been permitted to bunk together, and neither of them had ever been interested in breaking the rules of the institution so they never pushed it. But on nights when the creaks and groans of the 900,000 pound ship kept her awake, and the rocking of the waves around them was too much to ignore she knew she'd be able to find him lurking around the corridors as well.

 “I couldn't sleep,” she'd say. “Me neither,” he'd respond. Sometimes, when the world felt too heavy on his shoulders and they'd been away from home for too long they'd find their way to the floor together, his back pressed to hers, their arms circling their knees, and he'd sync his breathing to hers convincing himself that so long as she was their he had some piece of his real life with him. A part of Jake Seresin that wasn't just a pawn in battles bigger than him, he was a man with thoughts and feelings, and dreams outside of his role worth achieving. 

---

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

The parachute that isn't being used to block the wind is still draped over the two of them and she hopes it keeps Jake warm until he wakes. His walk to the base will take him longer now dragging her weight behind him, he'll need his sleep. 

She lets the sound of the wind lull her and she finds that she's not afraid anymore. Just sad; angry even; but not afraid. Her pain is excruciating, and she’s honestly welcoming the relief of a permanent slumber. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. The wind gusts come steadily, growing louder and ever closer. 

Jake stirs beneath her, sitting up her head falling to his lap. “Well would you look at that! No more walking for us,” he grins. Her eyes have shut but she can hear it in his voice, the boy like wonder bursting  the surface. “Angel, wake up,” he shakes her shoulder. The joy that had filled him moments ago has been replaced with a more serious tone, “they sent a chopper for us, honey,” he says, shaking her again, “you've gotta get up,” he pleads with her, but she cannot answer him. His hand is surprisingly warm on the side of her face, and the world goes dark and silent. 

Death is softer than she expected. It's dark still, but her head is resting on something plush, and there's a feel of woven fabric at her fingertips, it reminds her of the blanket Jake's mom had sent to her last Christmas. Her back and her legs feel stiff and she makes no attempt to move them uninterested in exploring this darken world she's found herself in. Her ribs ache but far less than they did back in the snow, the pinch she feels with each breath is like an echoed sound, a pallid reminder of her last moments. 

There's a humming; a mellifluous tune. It drifts in and out, bookended by murmuring she cannot decipher. Come back to me. The words become clear. Angel. Guilt fills her, petulant and helpless as emotion overwhelms her. She wants to move towards the voice, to apologize for leaving but she's not sure she can. I need you honey. 

Jake. Oh, it's so clear now. Jake. 

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” Jake's hands brace her shoulder, and just above her knee willing her to stop flailing her panicked limbs. Her eyes shoot open to meet his; golden green and brimming with tears she wishes she had the strength to stop. The insistent beeping that had filled the room quiets as she relaxes back into the pillows. 

The Navy infirmary isn't anything fancy, but it's far more comfortable than the nights she spent with her back up against the bark of a tree. She has so many questions but they fade out of her mind as quickly as they spark in. Blips of clarity overriden by the need to speak to Jake who is looking at her with more wonder than she's even seen. The man has seen the world from 40,000 feet but he's looking at her like she hung his stars in the sky. 

“Jake,” she manages. 

“Yeah, Angel”. 

Her throat feels like sandpaper, her voice scratchy and raw with disuse, but she fights through it, 

“I'm in love with you,” she says, sucking in a breath that makes her cough. Her lungs feel like they're on fire and she works desperately to inhale and exhale as the ache in her side is reawaken. 

Jake offers her water that manages to swallow down, and when she takes a few shaky breaths without wincing, he sets the paper cup aside. 

She gives him a gentle nod, refusing to meet his gaze. He doesn't let it slide, his forefinger tilting her chin up so she can't hide from him. She envies his confidence, his ability to simplify a scenario. 

“I'm in love with you,” he tells her too. 

[rinsoap]

SONGS THEY LOVE TO MAKE OUT TO!

✿²˖ ࣪ ➣ includes : suna rintaro. iwaizumi hajime. atsumu miya.

note : me after incorporating my music hyperfixation into all my works. also can u tell im so obsessed with all of these men's arms n hands.

SUNA RINTARO: REDBONE BY CHILDISH GAMBINO

makeouts with suna are always distracting you. this night was no different except for the fact that you're on the floor. well, you're sittting on the rug beside his bed that's pushed up to the wall. he's sitting against it, and you're in his lap facing him. you're on your phone, not paying attention to the boy directly in front of you, too busy trying to instruct one of your project partners on how to use microsoft. suna is not usually jealous. who cares if someone's into you? it's not like they have a chance. you never entertain them anyways. he just misses you. he was out of the city for a week for an away game, and he's hardly kissed you since he left. he's had awaken, my love! by childish gambino playing for a while now, head lolling back on the bed, bored out of his mind. "babyyyy" he hums in complaint after you giggle at your phone. "hold on rin, i'm almost done... god these people are so stupid, i swear i'm literally carrying this project" you roll your eyes as your fingers fly across the screen, the tapping filling the silence until your boyfriend groans and brings his head up to look at your pretty face. the intro of redbone kicks in, and his mind starts racing, thinking about all the times he's kissed your lips to this song. his hand snakes around your waist, and you feel his thumb start tracing hearts into your skin. "you're too pretty to be worrying about school," suna pouts, "you should pay attention to... other things..." his suspicious trail off causing your eyes to flick to his face, but before you could find his eye contact, he was planting kisses onto your neck. "rin," you whine, winding up to tell him off, but he makes his way up to your jaw, grinning against your cheek when you catch his eye. "rin i can't..." you sigh, incredibly receptive to his touch despite your words, dropping your phone still open on your messages to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "you just look so beautiful, can’t stop myself," he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours, hands making their way to hold the dip between your jaw and neck. you lean into his desperate kiss, and when your fingers carress the nape of his neck, you feel him smile. "missed you so much baby"

IWAIZUMI HAJIME: NIGHTS BY FRANK OCEAN

makeouts with iwaizumi always start out polite. it's always just one kiss, something casual, until he starts getting needier. you had dragged your boyfriend into another late afternoon nap, him shirtless, and you wearing one of his faded graphic t-shirts. you're woken by the sunlight beaming through iwaizumi's ineffective blinds. his arm is lazily holding you and he's laying on his stomach, you're on your back. you place your hand on his forearm and hum along to the end of hold on by the internet. you had forgotten you put on a playlist. you hear iwaizumi grunt and you giggle. "you awake finally?" he teases, turning on his side to face you and you do the same. "take a guess, genius" you quip back and he tsks. he doesn't say anything though, chest to chest and noses touching, he just stares into your eyes. sometimes he wakes up with you next to him and he is baffled at how he managed to pull someone as gorgeous as you. his eyes only break from yours to flick to your lips, and you can tell he's trying to be discreet by the way they immediately dart back. the song changes, and you both smile at each other knowingly. you were about to exclaim that he should just kiss you, but he interrupts that thought to oblige, and your face goes hot. his kisses still gave you butterflies despite being with him for so long. you kiss him back, matching the way he deepens it, hands over your hips as he pulls you onto him. you gasp at the sudden nature of it, and he grins against your mouth. you break free and move your hands from the sides of his face to his bare chest, but he pulls you closer to kiss up your shoulder and your collarbones and ultimately brings you back to kiss him. as the beat switches, his strong arms hold you tighter, closing whatever distance the two of you might have had before. he groans in your mouth when your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it slightly when he quietly mumbles, "i love you". he could kiss you all day if he could, and he acts like it.

MIYA ATSUMU: ONE NIGHT ONLY BY SONDER

makeouts with atsumu are intense and frequent. he loves pda, he's the type of guy to use any excuse to show off his girl, and is that such a crime?! he needs to stop kissing you at parties though, i fear you've become that couple. you were both a little tipsy, and when atsumu drinks, he can't take his hands off of you. so when he started kissing on your neck, you rushed him to the bathroom to avert everyone's eyes from the pda. you shut the door behind you, and atsumu quickly takes the opportunity to close the distance between you two until he had you pressed against the door. "oh, hey," you say with a sarcastic smirk that he matches. "hi baby," he bites his lip, looking you up and down and then back to your eyes, "you look so fucking good... i couldn't stop looking at ya, princess" he knows he's not subtle. your heart beats to the bass of the song playing through the door as he cups your cheeks in his big hands. he leans in to kiss you fervently, leaving you breathless and almost as needy as him. his hands thread through your hair and yours do the same as he nips at your lips playfully. you giggle and he pulls back just enough to speak, resting his forehead on yours. "you're so perfect" is all he says before he starts peppering you face and neck with soft kisses, working his way up back to your lips to capture you in a kiss much more intense comparatively. his hands roam your back, and you melt into his touch as the two of you intertwine. the world fades away, it's just you and him and the song. "hey are y'all done in there or what?" osamu knocks irritably, gladly interrupting you much to both of your displeasure. you laugh, and atsumu rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah whatever," he calls out, planting one last kiss on your cheek before you drag him out of the bathroom, "this will be continued later, promise you baby" he's so corny

[starcharmed]

— MEMOIRS OF THE PAST

summary: leaving a topic behind to go check up on sunday worked out well in your favor.

cw: romantic sunday pairing, past romantic dan heng pairing, after 2.7 quest but nothing mentioned, reader is an astral express member, caelus as trailblazer, fluff with an undertone of hurt/comfort | wc: 2k+ | my secret santa gift for @milksnake-tea <3 please read the note at the end

The Express seemed to hum during its “nighttime”. The record Caelus set earlier this morning looping idly, the tune stitched into your memory. Pom-Pom had stopped sweeping around ten minutes ago, Himeko retired to her cabin, Welt had long gone to his own as well for a much-needed rest.

Dan Heng insisted that he assisted March in “helping Caelus decorate his room”. Not that you would raise an eyebrow at him for doing so, those two were bound to have everything turned upside down and on the ceiling if left alone.

Which left only one Express member left, Sunday.

In your opinion, he could rival Dan Heng in measures of silence. At first you weren’t sure if he simply disliked you, but after being around him for more than a month you soon realized he was just like that.

It’s not as if he was cold, though.

The first week he was on the Express, he brought everyone delicacies that he presumed would match everyone’s taste.

He was correct in his judgement.

You weren’t even sure how he had figured out that you loved deep-fried flying sea anemone — a dish you tried on Xianzhou when in need of a small energizer after all that went down — nonetheless how many toppings you liked to have with it.

You remember messaging Caelus after receiving the gift, questioning if he had played any part in it. The only response you had received was a Wubbaboo emoji.

Very helpful.

That was besides the point, however. 

Unlocking your phone with a click, you opened your messenger. You sent Dan Heng a simple “u up?” before scrolling through your contacts, bored and in need of someone to bother. 

The second Dan Heng responded, you tapped on the notification.

You ; 10:45pm     u up?

Dan Heng ; 10:47 pm    You should be asleep.

Of course….

You ; 10:47pm    so should you

You hit him with the Pom-Pom “Pay Attention”. That’ll get him.

Dan Heng ; 10:48pm    …    Sleep if you can.     If not go see what Sunday is up to, he’s been silent for a long while.

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    March said she let him in her room to look at photos.    Try looking there first.

You ; 10:49pm     march is letting him go through her photos alone??     did see get possessed by some random heliobi somehow??

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    As far as I’m aware, no.     He’s…processing a lot of things right now.     Especially ones about his past.     I know how that feels.

You bit down of your tongue harshly to stop the bitter laugh surfacing from your throat. You knew that. How could you not practically know everything about him considering you two were the only people on the Express besides Welt, Himeko, and Pom-Pom for a long time.

Maybe, maybe you were still irritated that Dan Heng had kept his secret from you after you both had “dated” off and on for a time of years. Leaving you to a not so fun surprise during your time in the Xianzhou Luofu. Iron filled your mouth and you let your facial muscles relax. Aeons…you needed to get a grip. What was done was done.

Your phone’s ding pulled you out from the mucky mess of the past.  

Dan Heng ; 10:50pm    Please check up on him. 

Cringing, you hesitated before sending a Pom-Pom emoji. Huffing you placed your phone down beside yourself, rolling your head to the side to stare at your cabin’s door. Ah, what the hell. All of that didn’t matter right now. Sunday.

It didn’t take you that long to find him, in March’s cabin. Sitting cross-legged and shuffling through photos, door ajar just enough that you could peek in without disturbing him. You assumed March let him in, she’s bubbly yet still wary when need be. 

After what went down Sunday certainly was a “need be”. 

Rapping your knuckles against the door, you watched as a photo album slipped from his grasp before he caught it between his forefinger and thumb. The only sign of him being startled. Turning his head, Sunday’s posture relax imperceptibly. 

“Sorry”, Slipping inside the cabin, you caught the door before it shut completely, “I should’ve been more noticeable, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me.” He was quick to retort, sparing you a second glance before focusing back on the picture.

“Right.” Easing over you crouched beside Sunday, noting the lack of his gloves and coat – two clothing items he almost never went without. Peering over his shoulder, the image of a smiling Robin with an excited March taking a selfie with her filled your vision. 

Oh. 

You hesitantly sat down, “I remember when that was taken, y’know? On the feldspar.” The addition after everything happened in Penacony died down on your tongue, you shouldn’t mention that. “March was so excited to finally snap a photo with her. She wouldn’t stop rambling about it all day.”

Sunday’s right wing twitched as he placed the photo back in its slot within the laced album, “That sounds like Miss March.”

A silence creeped back over the both of you, the Express’ humming becoming more prominent within your mind. The nagging feeling that you made an incorrect choice prodding along with the melody running on repeat inside your head. Perhaps you should have made the decision to leave him be. Maybe letting Dan Heng know that he was looking through photos would’ve been enough. 

His message became center stage in the circus of your mind. He’s processing a lot of things right now. That was understandable, and that was also the problem. You weren’t sure how to interact with Sunday without dragging him back in his murky mess of a past.

Like you did with yourself earlier.

But, then again, it’s not like you’ve done anything to make him feel outed, right? All you have to do is just leave and check back in with Dan Heng. And maybe you can catch a few hours of sleep. Just excuse yourself and head back to your cabin. 

“Well…” Standing up you raised your arms over your head, stretching until you could start to feel a slight burn, “If you don’t need anything I guess I can-”

“Wait!”

Time seemed to freeze as your eyes went wide, both of Sunday’s wings twitched violently, and the Express seemed to stop humming as if his shout momentarily stunned it. Lowering the hand he had extended in suddenness, Sunday cleared his throat. 

“I apologize. That was abrupt of me.” You swear you could see his eyes flickering between you and the wall, a moment of nervousness from Sunday caught for once in your eyes, “I was curious if you had any more stories about your travels to tell. I enjoy them.”

Feeling yourself becoming flustered, you started to ease back over to where he was sat. Perhaps your tendency to recall and talk about your journeys with the crew had gotten yourself a title as the second best storyteller within the crew.

You were never beating March for second. 

Point still stands. 

Although no one honestly asked you to retell stories unless no one else was present to do so. It might’ve been because you do so without honest flair or excess details that added a hint of humor to the mix. However, that could be your opinion of how you tell tales carrying over to your own thoughts. 

It was like he handed you the book for popcorn reading.

Sunday seemed to slide over, making room for him. A considerate action that wasn’t new. He often didn’t want to get in the way, even when he wasn’t. You can recall when he stood to the side when Pom-Pom was sweeping in a completely different area than him, as if he was trying to blend into the wall. 

Odd.

You reached for a photo in the album blindly, blinking thrice as you realized which one you had chosen. It was one from Xianzhou of all of your luck, one snapped in a hurry. It was on of you, Dan Heng, and Caelus in front of the Express. Caelus and you were mimicking Dan Heng’s newly-found horns (at the time) with your fingers before you all departed Xianzhou, March snapping the photo quickly before Dan Heng had started to stalk off the train.

That was a fun moment, despite all that had happened.

“That’s from the Xianzhou Luofu, correct?” Sunday questioned even though you could tell he already knew by the look within his eyes, “I’ve heard about what had happened there.”

You nodded. “It was a thing.”

A thing? Really?

“I never thought to ask what the story behind his form in these pictures was all about”, Sunday started, “Do you think you could tell me some about it?”

You take that previous statement back, he handed you a loaded gun.

The wince that slipped past your lips was sharp enough to sound like a whistle. With a click of your tongue, you started to put the photo back, “Well, I think you’d have to ask Dan Heng that yourself. He seems to have taken a liking to you so maybe you won’t get the sharp end of the sword.”

The statement was meant to be humorous, yet it came out as the complete opposite.

“It’s just something from his past. Everyone has one that nags them on this Express it seems, even someone as giddy as Caelus,” Closing the album, you reached for another one.

“Even you?”

“Unfortunately”, laughing you turned your face to look at him, “It’s not as deep as memory loss or being birthed from a literal nuke. Why? You surprised?”

“It’s hard to imagine you being chained down by memories and experiences of the past, you don’t let it seem to show.” You weren’t sure if you or Sunday had moved closer to one another.

In public you wanted to add, letting the two words melt on your tongue. 

“Yeah, well”, Scooting closer, your right knee bumped his left, “It’s different for everyone.”

“That it is.”

The humming of the Express seemed to become muted, as if you had submerged underneath the water.

Sunday was so pretty.

His hair framed over his wings perfectly, his eye color blending into his attire beautifully. Little things that he seemed to make stand out wonderfully.

“Do you and Dan Heng have quarrel?” Lifting his head, Sunday’s eyes locked onto your own, “I do not want to trouble you by mentioning the past if both of you have some together.”

“No, it’s just a…little thing.” 

Who started to lean in first?

“A little thing? You have a lot of those, hmm?” Sunday’s lips upturned slightly before they fell into their normal line, “Are you sure?” “You’re not getting in the way of anything, Sunny.” The nickname made his lips part, his honeyed breath being intook by your nostrils, “It’s fine, I swear.”

You could practically feel his hair against your face as he tried to close the distance, flinching back once his nose brushed against yours. Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as he exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering closed so delicately it was if a feather had fallen against the smooth water of his skin. 

Smooth lips met yours as soon as your own eyes closed.

You felt his hand sneak up to the nape of your neck, a gasp pushing past your lips at the skin-on-skin contact. Sunday must’ve felt as he did something incorrect, pulling back before you brought up your other hand, keeping him within the moment of the kiss.

The muffled humming started to become clearer as you pulled back to open your eyes. Sunday’s wings had come around to fit around his face, a pink creeping past the edges. 

And you let out a small laugh filled with nothing but joy.

Lowing his wings from his face, Sunday averted his gaze partially to the ground, “I suppose you should go back and try to sleep now.”

Although it was a statement, it carried more a questionable tone.

“Yeah”, you croaked out, nodding stiffly as you stood up. “You rest well if you can.” With a nod himself, Sunday started to study the pattern on another photo album. You practically speed-walked out of March’s cabin, heading to your own down the hall as your hand subconsciously raised to your lips.

Aeons were you glad you didn’t bring the past to the present with Dan Heng.

HI ILLU!! i hope you enjoy and this wasn't too ooc 😓😓 you've been such a huge inspiration and a major reason of why i'm so hooked on sunday as much as i am HAHAHA, i hope you have a very wonderful christmas and the rest of the year treats you right. thank you so much for being so wonderful and joyous to be around, i truly appreciate you 🫶���

[princesssmars]

you knew rockstars had a penchant for wrecking rooms, but touya and keigo were a little too excited to include you in the fun. nsfw. mxfxm threesome, double penetration.

you knew from the first time you met touya todoroki and keigo takami that they’d be superstars. it was inevitable, set in stone like the sun rising each morning and setting each night. the aura that surrounded them pulled in opportunity and quick fame in the blink of an eye.

luckily, that aura also pulled in people. normally groupies and businessmen and people trying to find their own claims for fame, but somehow you were put in their path and nothing had been the same since.

it was a chance meeting only a few months before they became famous overnight that you had met, bumping into them out on the street and being swept off your feet.

no, literally. keigo wasn’t paying much attention while talking to touya and bumped into you and made you nearly fall on your ass if it wasn’t for keigo fast reflexes grasping you in his arms.

they had insisted on apologizing over a free lunch despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary. but it didn’t take long for you to give in. they were incredibly charming in vastly different ways, the blonde energetic and flirty while the one with black hair was quiet but imposing, mostly the one who insisted that they make up a small fall to you.

you had thought they were just incredibly polite, but truly they were just as mesmerized with you as you were with them. as soon as they saw you they knew they had to keep you around.

in only a few weeks you had turned their duo into a trio, following them wherever they went. it was blissful but so damn confusing when you swear they started getting a little too cozy and flirtatious with you, but you didn't mind the attention. you loved it when they'd invited you over to their apartment to smoke and play games and talk for hours, the sun setting and rising before you knew it. but most of all you loved when they made you tag along with them to the studio, citing you as their good luck charm for making some of the best rock music you'd ever heard.

in the blink of an eye, one of their songs blows up overnight and thrusts them into the global spotlight, staying in a small apartment one minute to a luxury penthouse only two months later. it was surreal to go from reposting their songs when you were the first to hear them to seeing the two of them up on billboards when you drove down the highway.

obviously, the increase in fame meant your relationship would change, as much as all three of you hated it. it seemed like whenever you made plans to just hang out with each other their managers were calling to tell them they've been scheduled for another large event or talk show. not to mention that the few times you did manage to hang out after they blew up, their new horde of relentless stans found your identity and harassed you for days on end.

while it was incredibly overwhelming and downright horrifying to have thousands of unseen eyes on your movements, you had to admit it did do something for you when touya went on a livestream and told his fans to “get a life and a job.” his manager was pissed but he just shrugged and told you he didn’t care.

maybe it’s that nonchalant attitude towards your protection that made you say yes to their insistence that you take some time off and let them fly you out to their hotel that they were staying in for a concert in a city, the boys chivalrous as they pick you up from the airport in their shoddy disguises and escort you up to their hotel room.

you're too busy admiring the chicness of the large suite to see their eyes trained on your face, the subtle glance they share before touya takes your things into the bedroom while keigo wraps an arm around your shoulder and shows you around the place, before taking you to the bedroom to show off the fantastic view of the cityscape.

you admire the towering buildings and flickering lights before stepping back and plopping your body onto the plush of their way too-large bed. you can feel the shared heat of their bodies resting on either side of you as you start to talk.

"so the two of you have to pay an egregious fine for trashing any rooms yet?"

"trashing hotel rooms? what kind of deviants do you take us for?" touya's tattooed hand reaches for your neck almost before you can block it, giggling at his attempt to tickle you before it dies down when he lets his fingers rest on the front of your throat.

"exactly. she must have us confused with that other trashy rock group she's obsessed with. what are they called, sinsation?" keigo rolls his eyes before playfully resting his head on your stomach. do they normally set the temperature in hotel rooms this high? you really should get up and turn it down. in a minute.

"im not obsessed with them. if anything i'm staking out the competition for us!"

"us, huh? acting like you're part of the team rather than just our number one groupie?"

"oh please. i might as well be an honorary member with all the songs you've clearly written about me."

electric blue eyes are staring into yours from overhead, the closeness of his face prohibiting you from even breathing right.

"oh yeah? then why don't you help us break the room in?"

to the general public, your boys come off as suave, moving through photoshoots and red carpets with an ease that made them seem like graceful beings that never faltered, and never made a wrong movement. but you knew better than that. you could tell by the nervous tic in touya's lithe fingers as he waited for your response, eyes tracking as yours darted from his to his lips before slamming your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. there's nothing graceful about the way he groaned into your mouth, reached one hand behind your head to grip your hair and another to your chin to keep your head where he wanted.

keigo definitely wasn't doing any better on the delicate front, pretty eyes almost bulging out of his head until your hand tangled into his hair and jerked him down to let him know to get to work.

"god, she's cute. think she's had enough yet?"

"nah, she can go for one more. wouldn't wanna leave our new bandmate unsatisfied, would we?"

it was only an hour later and you were already fucked out of your mind. they had taken turns with you, used you at the same time, and now it seemed like they were just trying to prove a point. you didn't have the brainpower left to ask what it was, and if you did it's not like you could force anything out of your mouth other than squeaky moans and gasps as they held you up in their arms, arms holding you up as they thrusted into you with reckless abandon.

you mindlessly rested your head on keigo's shoulder as the overwhelming pleasure numbed your brain. your eyes lazily blinked as the blonde kissed at your neck and chin. when you let out a whine he softly nosed at your cheek.

"i know it's a lot. just a little while longer baby, doing so good for us."

you give a gentle nod before letting him pull you into a soft kiss, your arm coming up to wrap around his neck to try and pull him impossibly closer. it gives you the extra little energy you need to keep going, as well as the sharp pinch touya leaves on your nipple to tease you.

you hold eye contact with him as he brings you down onto the both of them even harder, quickly bringing a hand down to rub harsh circles over your clit to bring you crashing into an indescribable orgasm, your throat growing hoarse and thighs growing wet before you finally tap out and let your body rest in their arms.

"looks like you were the one to make the mess, huh?"

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 7 - mutual masturbation logan howlett x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs

You're not sure how what was supposed to be an innocent movie night led to this. All you wanted to do was curl up after a long week and watch some scary movies with your boyfriend. Instead, you've ended up with his fingers resting knuckle-deep in your cunt, and your hand stroking his leaking cock.

"Fuck..." you whimper, looking up into Logan's eyes as your lip puffs out into a pout. His fingertips graze just where you like to be touched with every movement. The heel of his palm grinds on your clit from the motions.

He leans down and steals the sound from your mouth with a kiss, melting that huffy look into something much more compliant.

"Gotta be quiet, baby. Don't want anyone knocking on your door to investigate strange noises," he teases and pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth.

Your instinct is to whine again, but it is the middle of the night. Even in the privacy of your own room, you really don't want anyone else in the nearby rooms of the mansion hearing the effect Logan has on you in moments like these.

In an attempt to fight back, you give his cock a tight squeeze before pumping up and down faster. He hisses softly and shoots you a look.

"Funny," he says.

The movie you'd been watching continues to play in the background even though neither of you were paying attention to it at this point. Your fist keeps sliding back and forth. You angle your head above it to spit down onto his shaft, making your movements more fluid.

A groan rumbles in his chest. He pulls you closer with the arm around your body, nestling the two of you further into the collection of pillows at the top of your bed. His lips move in again, smashing on yours as a way to keep himself quiet this time. The entire time, his fingers continue to curl inside you and gently slide between your walls. It's unfair how easy this version of multitasking is for him.

Pulling away, breathless from the kiss, you look down and watch. The outline of his hand presses against your panties and then recedes rhythmically. Next to it, his cock stands angry red and dripping from your hand's treatment of it.

"Jesus, you're so wet," he grunts. His voice sounds as strained as it does when he's buried inside you for real. It's accompanied by the wet sloshing noises of your hole being filled.

Beneath his hand, the seat of your panties was soaked through with slick. You leak around his fingers like a broken faucet, getting his entire palm glistening with your need for him.

"You gonna cum on my fingers, babydoll?" he murmurs in your ear, "Gonna get all nice and tight and make me wish I had my cock inside you instead?"

You gasp out a 'yes' before throwing your head back and letting your body seize up. He smirks at you and keeps working his fingers within. You try to keep your hand going as best you can, but your movements become erratic under the waves of pleasure he's bringing you.

Luckily for you both, the sight of your body squirming for him and the sound of your voice cracking into whines is enough to spur his arousal into a release. His high doesn't crash into him as hard as yours does to you, but he lets out a quiet moan and lets his hips thrust up into your hand.

You watch his abs twitch as ropes of cum fly onto them. It pools on his stomach, dribbling down over his happy trail onto the skin of his pelvis. His eyes flutter and a deep sigh leaves him.

The both of you prolong the mutual ecstasy for as long as you can. You start to come down first. When he joins you in the plateau of the afterglow, you unfurl your fingers from around his length. He pulls his digits from your pussy and snakes his hand free of your panties.

You can see the evidence of your arousal glimmering with the reflection of the light from the television. It would be embarrassing if you didn't know how hot Logan found it. He does what he does every time this happens - brings his fingers to his lips and slots them inside, licks them clean of your nectar, and then brings them back out for you to suck on and get a taste.

After watching you suck on his digits a few times, he pulls them back out and goes in for one more kiss.

"Much more interesting than the movie, huh?" he mutters.

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 3

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.4k Words

Part 1, Part 2, Master List

Miles Cooper was still at school the following week, which meant that he was given no consequences for what had happened to you or for blaming Eddie. 

Eddie couldn’t even say he was surprised by this point. If Eddie really had been the one to trip you up, he was sure he’d get suspended or even expelled. It was so close to the end of the year and he could feel that Higgins was looking for any reason to keep him from walking across that stage to get his diploma. 

You hadn’t shown up on Monday. Not that it mattered to Eddie either way, you two didn’t even know each other. But you had cleared his name. That was the thought that kept buzzing around his brain like a mosquito that he just couldn’t swat. Despite the glares and the snide remarks, you had gone out of your way to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble for something he didn’t do, which is more than what he could say for a lot of people at this school.

He had to give you credit for that at least. Not many people outside of his small friend circle would stick up for him like that. 

With work and band practice, it was easy to forget about you until Wednesday when you showed up to English class with a thick white cast around your wrist and arm. Shit, your fall really had done a number on you. You were struggling with juggling your books and they fell off your desk with a clatter, and you thanked the girl next to you for helping you pick them up. 

Eddie would like to think he was above eavesdropping and gossip, but he’d be wrong. 

“What happened?” The girl- Sarah- asked. 

“I face planted on the bleachers at the pep rally.” you said, taking your seat again. “One minute I was trying to get down, and the next I’m getting elbowed and my arm hurt.” 

“I heard someone pushed you” 

Eddie heard that emphasis on someone and gripped his pencil, hearing the subtle sound of wood splintering against his thumb. This was not the time to make a scene. 

“No one pushed me. Miles elbowed me and I fell.” you said firmly. 

You were still defending him, Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“If you’re gonna spread rumors, could you do me a favor and make it sound more interesting?” You continued, “Like, start telling people that I dived off the bleachers to distract everyone that Miles shit himself.”

Eddie snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He slammed his hand pencil down on the table and covered his mouth. Dammit, why did you have to be funny?

Sarah laughed, much less obnoxiously and agreed before asking to sign your cast. You must be covered in signatures now, as you seemed to be friends with everyone. 

Everyone except him. 

Not that it mattered. 

It was nice and all that you saved him from getting in trouble, but it’s not like you two were ever going to be friends, no matter how funny you were. 

Class started and Eddie spent the rest of class doodling and barely paying attention to the teacher. This was usually how his school days went. Yeah, he had been trying harder in the past two years to graduate and pass his classes but some days his brain just refused to focus on anything important. 

The bell rang and Eddie took his sweet time getting his things together. Next period was his favorite- lunch. 

“Shit.” He heard you mumble as you tried to wrangle your books with one arm. He knew there was a rule about not being allowed to carry around a backpack but, shit, Eddie would have thought you’d get some help. Shouldn’t one of those many signatures be offering to carry your books? 

Obviously not, as you finally managed to tuck your notebook under your arm. You looked flustered, and hot in the face. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you finally let out a loud groan as your papers went flying everywhere as students for the next class started coming in. 

It was pathetic, and Eddie couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. You cleared his name, so at least he could try and help you out right now. Maybe he’d even figure out what your problem with him was. 

“Here.” Eddie said and grabbed the papers closest to him and picked up your binder before you could stop him. 

Normally when Eddie looked at you, you’d turn your nose up at him and look away. This time, he found himself giving you direct eye contact. Your eyes were wide with surprise that he had stepped in to help, followed by more frustration. 

“Thanks.” you said shortly. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?” Eddie asked. He’d wait for you to say no, to tell him to get out of your face, and he can walk away with a clear conscience that at least he tried. 

You were staring at him as if he were some sort of alien who had just asked you why the sky wasn’t orange. Yeah ok, he could take the hint. 

“Yes.” 

The word sounded choked out, as if the single syllable was a struggle to say. But you had said it, and Eddie was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t promised you anything. 

Eddie stacked your notebook and binder on top of his. You were still staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. Eddie couldn’t really believe it himself. 

He’d do this small favor for you as a thanks, and then you two could go back to ignoring each other. 

“Lead the way.” He said, offering up his best impression of his dad’s smile. If he was lucky (which Eddie never was) then maybe some of his dad’s Munson Magic might rub off on him enough so that you’d at least relax a little. 

You only nodded and led him out of the classroom. 

You didn’t like the cast and it’s off-putting stark white bandages. You wanted to choose a different color- maybe red or black or even that weird obnoxious toxic green that was offered to you. But your mom decided that white would be better because it would make it easier to sign, so white it was. 

Your parents at least took pity on you Monday, letting you stay home to wallow in embarrassment that you had broken your wrist and fractured your arm in front of all of your classmates. Tuesday they released you back to school, but you had instead skipped getting on the bus (because you could not drive one-handed) and played hooky at the local library. It’s not like anyone would care that someone your age was skipping school. 

Wednesday came, and you forced yourself onto the bus, the first time you had used it since moving to Hawkins. The ride was bumpy and long, and your walkman ran out of batteries halfway to school. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. A few people came up and signed your cast, some asking what happened. You just told them the same thing, that Miles elbowed you and you fell. It wasn’t as exciting as the idea of the school Freak attacking you, but you weren’t about to get Eddie involved in something that he had nothing to do with. You were just going to ignore the fact that Eddie had been the reason you were heading in that direction anyway. 

English class rolled around, and you spent most of it poking the inside of your cast with your pencil, trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It was bad enough that you had fucked up your dominant arm, but this was actually Hell. 

When the bell rang, everyone else seemed to be in a huge rush to get out of the classroom. Everyone but Eddie. Obviously. Because of course the one person you were trying to avoid was now slinking around you. 

Your long weekend, you had done your best to try and not think about him. You could handle falling in front of everyone else in school, but with Eddie it was different. Your stomach twisted as you remembered how he had yelled as you fell next to him and how he had looked at you as you had ignored your stinging arm as you ran out of the gym to clear his name. 

It was bad enough he had heard you make a poor joke out of context, you weren’t going to throw him under the bus either. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?”

Your face was already hot with the embarrassment of not being able to carry your own books. Your backpack had ripped the second you got off the bus, and you lost your math homework to a puddle. You hated that he was still here to begin with, was breaking your wrist already not enough pain and suffering? 

You were staring at him. Fuck- dammit- shit say something back-

“Yes.” 

The word almost got stuck in your throat. The only reason it came out was that as painful and embarrassing as this moment was, what Stacy would do to you if she found out you said no would be far worse. 

Eddie dropped your books on top of his, and gave you a smile that looked so forced that you couldn’t stand to look at him. Was this being done just out of pity? You’d run for the hills if he wasn’t holding you binder hostage. 

You led him through the hallway, and towards your locker. “I need to put some things up.” you said, and he followed you. 

The hallway was already mostly clear, and so no one seemed to pay you much mind. You weren’t sure what the rumor mill would churn out with Eddie carrying your books, but did it even matter? Two more months and you’d be out of this school and none of these people would matter. 

No one except the young man following behind you. 

Eddie dutifully held your books as you put them away. The door to your locker stopped you from seeing his face, which seemed like the perfect time to take the foot out of your mouth that had been there since the pep rally. 

“...I’m... uh... I’m sorry for what I said on Friday.” you started, pretending to rifle through a folder. “About you being in a cult. It was a stupid joke and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and you felt your whole body tense up as you waited for him to say anything. 

“Yeah we uh.. We aren’t big on sacrificing in Hellfire.” he said carefully. “Had to stop that with the club budget cuts.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes tight to keep from laughing. You covered it up with a cough. “Yeah uh... sounds like that’d be a lot of paperwork.” 

You took a slow and deep breath before closing your locker to look at him. He was smiling at you, a far less forced one than before. It was almost the same smile he gave his friends when he didn’t know you were looking. 

It wasn’t much, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your chest. You should see a doctor about that. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Eddie said. “And with all the letters we get about our club being associated with the Devil it was just a bureaucratic headache.”

I know that if I could just talk to him one then I’d be fine. You had told yourself that every single day since these pesky little feelings emerged. Maybe you had been right. The two of you made your way to the cafeteria. 

“You’re just some nerds playing with dice.” you said, and realize that could be taken the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve also... played board games.” 

God you were acting like a total airhead. Board games? Really? You were acting like your brain was broken rather than your wrist. 

You felt Eddie’s eyes on you, and saw how he also looked unsure about your answer. Whatever was going through his head, he brushed aside. 

“I should also thank you for clearing my name.” he said, changing the subject. “You came running out of the gym and saved my ass.” 

“I wasn’t going to let someone get in trouble just because I fell!” It was the most assured thing you had ever said to Eddie.

“Well, either way I’d say you’re my hero.” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t come running to my rescue I’d probably be expelled by now, and then who would be around to corrupt the youth of Hawkins?” 

Hero. Eddie called you his hero. You felt your body buzzing with an energy that you were not in a place to use. 

You two were in the cafeteria now, and you led Eddie over to where Stacy was sitting. Stacy, being the queen of subtlety that she was, was openly gawking at the sight of the two of you together. 

She was giving you a look, and that look said that the second that Eddie was out of earshot you would be giving her a play by play of every single second of this interaction. 

Eddie dropped your books on the table by Stacy.

“Hi, Eddie!” she said in a perky voice. You wanted to kick her, and shot her a warning look which she ignored. “Will you be dining with us today?” 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“As much as I would love to spend my lunch period with you two ladies, I’m afraid my freshmen wouldn’t survive out there in the wild without me.” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” you said stiffly. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s theatrics was making your brain blow a fuse. 

Eddie gave you a nod and sauntered off to his usual table where he was immediately hounded by his friends for being seen with you. You wondered what they were thinking. Did you look weird next to Eddie? Were they judging you for not being part of their group?

“Stop drooling.” Stacy said. “Talk.”

I have never broken a bone and have done minimal googling.

Also these chapters are getting longer dammit. This is supposed to be the easy stuff to wright UGH. Also tell me if there's something you wanna see with this, because I'm winging it like I do with all my writing lol

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan

@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot

@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta

@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld

@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

[chrissv4mp]

ughh love these maybe 36 & 49 with cowboy!bills

cowgirl!billie 03...

⟶ 36) “that looks too big.”

⟶ 49) “how are you so close already?”

finneas had locked up the barn early today, telling you and billie that he'd finish up the rest of the chores, but that you'd owe him extra work next week. so, you took that time to sneak off to billie's place since her parents were out for 'some work thing,' as billie called it.

you'd just been hanging out at first, playing games, trying to cook dinner and burning the food, curling up on the couch and watching a movie at the end of the night. until you started to really pay attention to the way billie rubbed your thigh under the blanket, fingers drawing unreadable shapes on your skin and inching higher every time you shifted next to her.

it started off small, with short kisses that felt normal, little whispers that you loved her, that the movie was boring—but when she didn't get the hint, you grabbed her hand and sighed in frustration at how oblivious she was. or maybe she wasn't, maybe she just wanted to piss you off just so that you'd tell her what you wanted.

"billie, c'mon," you sigh, standing up and turning off the tv with one hand while the other tugged billie up onto her feet. "stop playing dumb."

she just shrugged, letting you pull her upstairs and into her room, letting your shut and lock the door behind her, letting you push her onto the edge of her bed, and letting you pull her shirt off her body before she finally did something to help you. her hands moved to unbuckle her belt, throwing it onto the floor and undoing the buttons on her jeans before unzipping them and pulling them down.

your jaw dropped at the size of the strap she had hidden under her pants. you almost felt compelled to ask if she was wearing that the entire day. but you refrained. instead, you just swallowed nervously, eyes tracing the length. bigger than the guys you'd been with back in the city a few months ago.

"that looks too big," you murmur shyly, and billie just frowns in faux sympathy for you. "bil, i—mm, i dunno."

"you wanted it, didn't you?" billie asks, kicking her jeans off her ankles and letting them fall to the floor. she stands up, grabbing your waist and pushing you down onto the edge of the bed now. "so now, y'gonna take it like a good girl."

a surprised squeak is all you can reply with as billie undoes the buttons and zipper on your shorts, pulling them down with your panties and letting them fall to the floor with her jeans. she crawls over your body, large hands bracing themselves on either side of your head on the mattress. the tip of her strap prods at your entrance, making you shiver in anticipation.

billie pushes in slowly, lips near your ear whispering sweet praises and encouragement as you take inch by inch of her strap into your cunt. you tremble beneath her body, hands flying to her back, nails digging into her skin as you moan brokenly, trying to adjust to the length of her dick.

you whimper sweetly into her ear, mouth open wide to let out small cries of her name—and something oddly close to "i'm gonna cum." billie pauses, bottoming out. she pulls away from your neck, looking you in the eyes and seeing the way your brows furrow and your nose scrunches in concentration—like you're holding back.

"how are you so close already, sweet girl?" billie teases lightly, but it's also a genuine question. she's never had you this close to the edge so quickly before. "s'cause you're so full, hm?"

you nod, inhaling sharply when you feel billie start to pull out, head digging into the mattress and nails digging deeper into billie's back. she breathes out heavily at the light pain, thrusting her hips forward again and filling you to the brim, the tip kissing your cervix. you break.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," you gasp, repeating the word over and over like a prayer as your body convulses under billie. "bil, oh my—holy shit."

⟶ tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @hkkuugu @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone

[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, stand by me by ben e. king, wish I had you by ruel, better by khalid, so high school by taylor swift, birds of a feather by billie eilish, intro (end of the world) by ariana grande, + cherry wine by zachary knowles

───────── 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 ─────────

[summikomi]

I like the one where y/n is fascinated with Sukuna’s tummy 😂 I just think it’s so cute. Could I request an instance where she gives it some attention.

Like usually y/n will kiss Sukunas face and ignores his stomach but one day she finally notices his tummy mouth pouting because it never gets attention so she asks Sukuna before she starts spoiling his tummy mouth with kisses, sweet words and he blushes around his abs and maybe even purrs and coos at her doting. Sukuna is just stunned by the whole thing because none of his previous consorts/concubines would ever go near his tummy (fear of being bitten/esten) but yeah! That’s my idea 🥰🥰🌷🌷🌷

this is so cute i can't believe i took so long to get to it lolol here u go darling <3 it got totally away from me and also got mildy suggestive at the end, so cw for that!!

".. you're doing this again?" sukuna huffs exasperatedly, playing up his distaste as always, but you're not letting it get to you. with gentle hands you tenderly run your fingers over the lines of his waist, admiring the defined muscle that surrounds that mouth on his stomach. you can see he's scowling over your head, but the blush dusting his prominent cheekbones makes it hard to take his displeasure seriously.

-

you hadn't intended to make a habit of it when it began, but you and sukuna had a schedule. at the end of every week, you'd both settle into his massive bed together, and you would make an evening of worshipping him like he deserved. his large, powerful form would always turn to putty in your hands, basically purring in your hold by the time both you started to get tired. you knew he loved the attention, but there was a part of him you'd been neglecting without noticing.

it came to a head one night, while you were (totally innocently) running your hands over his chest, and you looked down to see the lips on his stomach.. pouting? the view was so surreal that your hands stopped, and sukuna didn't take long to notice and complain.

"mrrh?" he intonated, something like a confused cat, and although it was cute you were too entranced by the view to pay it much mind.

"who said you could stop?" a deep voice murmured, but it was less intimidating with the slightly dazed look on his face and the pout on his tummy.

"oh!" you gasped softly, turning to look up at him again, and resisted the urge to snicker at the almost matching pout he had on the lips of his face, "sorry, it's just, hm.."

with a cautious touch (more because you didn't know if he'd like it, rather than if he would allow it - sukuna liked to act tough, but he'd let you do basically anything) you reached out and splayed your fingers over his stomach, and then gently ran them over the lips there. it was surprisingly soft, but it felt more like the skin of his torso than the one of his lips, and you marveled at the curiosities of his anatomy silently.

"..what..?" his voice was gruff, and if you didn't know him better you might think he was mad - but he was definitely flustered.

"do you like being touched here?" you asked curiously, and he frowned at the question as if you'd just personally insulted him.

rather than answering upfront, because that would obviously be too easy, sukuna answered like this:

"do whatever you want."

-

do whatever you want, you did. if he wanted you to stop it would be more than in his power anyways, so you continued on your quest to spoil that neglected tummy mouth, and sukuna continued to pretend he didn't like it. just as he was today.

a thought popped into your head. hmm.

without much thought, you leaned in and pressed your lips over the ones on his stomach, and giggled softly over the skin when it made him jolt.

"what," sukuna said, a big hand flying over the back of your neck to scruff you like a cat, "are you doing now?"

"kissing you, silly." his grasp was too gentle to restrain you, so you leaned forward and pressed another kiss to the right corner of the mouth, delighting in the way his muscles tensed under you. he was very flustered, indeed.

it was a rare treat to make sukuna speechless, and you enjoyed every moment as you placed kiss after kiss over his stomach, going over his abs and the marks on his skin, including rough scars and a lost freckle or two. sukuna was so cute. not that you would ever tell him that - unless you wanted to see the world burn.

"you can cease this already–" he complained, but before he could finish a loud sound interrupted his speech - and your actions.

for a moment you almost thought his stomach was growling, but then the realization hit you like a brick to the head.

"sukuna," you enunciated, utter delight coating your words in honey, "are you purring right now?"

"it's not me, it's that stupid thing." he tried to defend himself, but his ears were matching the pink of his hair, and you laughed loud enough that you were sure most of the servants around the estate would hear.

"so it has a mind of its own now?"

"shut up," he barked without any bite before pulling you into his arms, one pair coming under your thighs to pull you close and the other wrapping around your shoulders and waist, fully surrounding you.

"i'll find a spot that makes you purr now. i hope you're ready."

"huh? wait, sukuna–"

..you learned a few lessons about your own body that day too.

[bluebutterflytattooed]

Loser Lesbian Ellie Williams x Mean Girl Reader

CHAPTER SIX

The sight of the text makes you stop breathing. Not really, but that’s what it feels like. Surely that it’s just because Ellie texted you and you weren’t expecting it. Not because you’ve been thinking about seeing her again all the time and now you finally are getting your chance, and it’s 7 PM on a Saturday. What would the two of you even do? You have almost nothing in common. Correction, you have absolutely nothing in common at all. You and Ellie are like night and day, winter and summer, chocolate and vanilla, cats and dogs.

However, opposites do attract. Like magnets. There’s an undeniable pull between you two, whether that’s a pull of hatred, attraction, or just platonic friendship. You don’t know which one you want it to be. On one hand, you’ve tormented and teased her for years. On the other hand, she is unfortunately so attractive with her freckles and strong arms and biceps. But she probably is not at all interested in you, and you can’t possibly be interested in Ellie Williams, which means friendship is the only other outcome of these recent constant thoughts of the girl.

But…Hearts don’t speed up at the idea of hanging out with their friend, much less the nerd you make fun of. Breath doesn't get stuck in lungs because of friendship, and cheeks don’t get pink because of friendships.

You have to come to terms with it, you know you do.

There’s a very distinct possibility that you have feelings for Ellie Williams.

You don’t really know how this has happened. There haven’t been any signs of it before, other than your very deep obsession with her that you’ve had for years. But that wasn’t an obsession of attraction, it was one of distaste for her. She’s always been so fucking nerdy and so focused on her weird interests, someone that never in a million years would you be attracted to. Sure, you’ve noticed everything about her. Her stupid t-shirts, her favorite one being a Tears for Fears shirt (not that you have it memorized or anything), the dumb waistbands of her boxers that peek above her pants (again, not that you pay attention), the way sunlight or tears make her blue eyes extra shiny, sometimes looking greenish in direct light, or the way she nibbles on her bottom lip and runs her tongue over her piercing when she’s nervous. But those are all things you’ve made fun of in the past, not things that have made her appear… beautiful.

But, you still find your thumbs flying over your keyboard, your heart beating almost painfully fast, as you send a reply to her text:

You: I’ll be there in an hour tops

Well fuck. Now you have to go.

You scramble to take a shower, wash away the week of pilates and hanging out with your junkie mom. Your cherry almond conditioner and vanilla body wash filled shower is followed by a quick blow dry and clean-looking minimal makeup, pulling it all together with Brandy Melville sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt that slouches off your shoulders. You’re praying that it looks as if you didn’t make an effort, but it’s cute nonetheless.

What does Ellie think of you? Why could she ever want you at her house after years of torture? These are the thoughts that plague your mind as you ride your bike to her house, your legs pumping so fast that they’ll be sore after this. You’ve tied your hair back with a claw clip, a gold one decorated with a butterfly that you got from Target, so that the wind doesn’t tangle your hair and you won’t end up at Ellie’s with ugly hair. Your silky hair is one of your personal favorite features, and you put time and money into maintaining it. The wind will not mess that up. Ellie’s ranch is a twenty minute bike ride from the trailer park, which gives you plenty of time to chew on the inside of your cheeks and stress out from the overwhelming confusion of why Ellie wants you to come over. She has no reason to, unless her friends are there and they’re going to work on the film. Filming sounds good, it sounds less scary than sitting next to Ellie wondering what the hell there is for the two of you to talk about.

Maybe we won’t talk at all, you find yourself thinking. Maybe there will be more hands and lips involved than words-

You scold yourself for thinking something like that; of course that won’t happen. You’ve been much too cruel to the poor girl for her to want anything like that to happen between the two of you.

The long, gravel driveway of the ranch appears ahead of you, and you hop off your bicycle to avoid a bumpy ride full of pebbles flying up and hitting you in the face. A dog runs up to you, a golden retriever full of bouncy energy, and follows you along the rest of the path. You lean down to pet his head a few times, and crouch down with him for at least a couple of minutes once you get to the house in order to avoid going inside. Why would you agree to come here if you’re too scared to go in and see Ellie? Maybe you shouldn’t knock on the door at all, just turn around and go back home, pretend like you got caught up with something-

But you don’t have to knock at all. Ellie opens the front door, staring at you as you play with her dog, a bright smile across your face. She’s never seen you smile like that before. Maybe because whenever you see her, your mouth is twisted into a scowl.

“Y/N,” her voice rings out from the porch, and you jerk your head in the direction of her low, smooth tone, looking up at her. “I, uh, I see you met muffin.” She says, flushing as she makes eye contact with you.

The smile stretches across your face again. “Muffin?” You sound like you’re teasing, but in a friendly way.

“Um!” Ellie squeaks “Yep! His full name is Blueberry Muffin, cause my dad makes them and- I don’t know why I’m telling you this, s’ so dumb.” Her face just gets redder and redder, which you find entertaining. And somewhat endearing. That’s what’s stupid here, the way you find her blushing at her own word vomit endearing.

“No, I like it. It’s a cute name,” You shrug, giving Muffin another pat on the head, standing up and pretending as if you weren’t just so anxious about seeing Ellie that your head was swimming. She lets you through the threshold and shuts the door behind you. Today, she’s wearing Minecraft socks, which makes you laugh under your breath. ”Should I take my shoes off?” You ask her.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” She says, but you take them off anyway.

“So why’d you ask me to come over, Ellie?” You ask her, raising an eyebrow. She seethes with jealousy; she can’t raise a single eyebrow. She can only raise both at the same time.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to do some scenes for the film? Cause we need to start getting those, and I’m pretty good with cameras and stuff. And I thought you might be nervous filming around Dina and Riley, so they’re not here. It’s just us. And my dad’s out of town too,” She says, all the words coming out in a rush. So you’re alone with Ellie. In her house. At almost 8:00 pm.

You swallow, knowing that you must look nervous now. “I… yeah, that sounds good. How should we start?”

She cocks her head to the side, thinking, as you follow her to her bedroom for the second time in your life. “We could do some shots out in the field. Like it’s the beginning of the apocalypse, and you’re just figuring out, like, how to navigate the world. And also, you probably can’t wear those clothes… they’re not accurate to what you’d be wearing in an apocalypse.” The passion she feels about this topic is evident in her voice, which you find…

“Cute,” You meant to only think the words, but they fall from your lips anyways. You slap a hand over your mouth.

“Hm?” Ellie didn’t hear you completely.

“Nothing! Just, what should I wear then? I didn’t bring other clothes,” You say quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when you realize that she didn’t hear what you said.

“Y-you can wear mine!” She stutters miserably throughout the short sentence, her face flushing again, even darker this time. She scratches the back of neck, below her bun that she always has tied up. “I have some that aren’t too ugly, but you’d look good in, um, in everything. So.” Her face is burning red and her tongue flicks out to play with her lip piercing, the whole movement followed by your eyes.

“Thanks,” You murmur. “Show me the clothes so we can get this filming over with.” You don’t really want to be on camera and pretend to be another person that you’re not, but Ellie seems so eager and excited, so of course you’ll do it.

How far you’ve fallen from being someone who would barely look at her to a girl gazing at her lip piercing as you enter her bedroom.

She digs through her extremely messy dresser. The clutter doesn’t surprise you, it suddenly makes sense why all her clothes are wrinkled. Apparently, the girl doesn’t know how to fold. Your lips curl up into a smile, which Ellie notices as she turns back around, the blush returning to her face. At this point, the pink hue on her skin is a permanent addition to her freckled cheeks. She sticks her hands out, holding a pile of clothes.

“There’s a t-shirt, and a hoodie, and, um, some jeans,” She says, staring at the floor. “I’ll leave the room while you change.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, taking the wrinkled pile and waiting for her to leave the room before you start stripping off your own clothing, shivering as the cold air of Ellie’s bedroom hits your skin. The farm house is old, and lacking in a heating system. Ellie just sleeps with a lot of blankets (most of them patterned with sharks or horses or dinosaurs) to make up for the lack of heat.

Ellie, standing outside her bedroom door with her heart beating a mile a minute, tries her absolute hardest to resist her very strong urge to peek through her door, which is slightly cracked open. Oh, she tries to resist what her little one-track lesbian brain tells her to do, repeatedly telling that urge that it’s wrong to want to do that, but… the lesbian brain wins. She moves to the side a bit, peering through the gap between the door and its frame. She watches, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open, practically drooling, as she sees you slip your shirt over your head, dropping your pants to the floor, to reveal a matching pink bra-and-panty set, purchased from Victoria’s Secret. Almost immediately, she can feel her boxers start to get sticky. Fuck. Her breathing becomes shallow as you dress yourself in her clothes. You are in her bedroom, putting her clothes on, and it's the most attractive thing Ellie has ever seen. She almost pouts when you’re done, once all your skin has been covered up, but she quickly recovers at the sight of you in her clothes.

“Ellie, I’m done.” You call to her, looking down at the clothes. They’re baggy on you, not overly baggy, and wrinkled like the rest of her clothing. Ellie comes into the room, staring at you. “We can film now.” You say calmly, as if nerves aren’t sprinting through your system.

“C-cool,” She stutters, slack jawed. “I’ve got the, uh, the camera set up. In the field. So, you can follow me out there.” Her hands, her whole body, is shaking. Her Hot Wheels boxers are practically soaked through to her torn black jeans, and she thinks she might be salivating.

The filing goes well. You look at the camera with a face filled with emotion, confliction, and fear. It’s perfect. Ellie knew you’d be perfect for this film. She stares at you the entire time, the camera aimed at you almost an afterthought. The movie will be good, yeah, but seeing you act like this right before her own eyes? It’s a dream. She’s in awe the whole time. Who knew you could act? You bully every theater kid you come across, so this passionate display of emotion from you, all done for the camera, is a shock to her. You get the whole scene done in one take.

“That was perfect,” Ellie gasps, her throat dry. “You’re really talented.” She gazes at you with huge eyes. In the sunset, you can see that her seemingly blue eyes are a pale greenish hue, a little bit of blue still floating around in them.

“Thanks Els,” You smile at her softly. Her breath hitches at the nickname. “Wanna watch a movie?” You propose. You don’t want to go home yet, face your mother and continue tending to her every want and need. You’d rather stay here with the girl you used to torment.

Ellie’s eyes widen as she folds up the camera stand and tucks it under her hoodie-clad arm. “U-uh yeah, we can do that!” Her voice pitches up into a squeak. It always seems to do that around you. “I’ve got a good collection. Starwars, and, ummm, How To Train Your Dragon… such a good movie…” She trails off, thinking. “But I’m A Cheerleader is such a classic, it’s about lesbians and uh- well, you don’t really care about that but.” She decides to stop talking as her face turns into a brilliant red tomato.

You cock your head to the side as you stroll into the house next to her. “We could watch that,” She nods quickly at your words. “Do you have a girlfriend?” The question slips from your glossed lips without it even being filtered through your mind. God damn it, you scream at yourself.

“What?” She yelps. “No! No no no, I don’t. I’m single. Single pringle!” Now it’s her turn to scream at her own self for saying something that even made her cringe. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” She apologizes, absolutely horrified with herself.

You laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Settling onto Ellie’s couch is possibly one of the most awkward moments of your life. It’s a nice leather one, pillows and blankets draped over it. You’re sitting straight up, like a rod, Ellie taking on the exact same stance at your side. Neither of you look at each other as she turns on the move, putting a pillow on her lap and hugging it close to her body. The room is so tense you could cut the air with a knife. You inhale and exhale deeply, the woody scent of Ellie Williams making its way into your nose. And oh my god, does she smell good. You want to bottle whatever scent that is and spray it on everything that you own, becoming surrounded by her always.

But you can’t do that. It would be gay and creepy.

You get engrossed in the movie quickly, finding yourself relating to Megan a little too much. Concealing herself, denying herself and her identity, falling for a girl she can’t have. She’s just like you. You get so engrossed that you don’t even notice Ellie’s breathing slowing as she falls asleep until she tips over, her head flopping against your shoulder. You almost jump as you realize that she’s resting on you, but that would mean waking her up.

“Shit,” You wheeze. “Oh fuck.” You inhale and exhale deeply, playing with your own fingers in your lap. Her hair is soft against the exposed skin of your shoulder, as the sleeve of the t-shirt has ridden up. Her pink lips are slightly parted, a peaceful expression painted across her freckled face.

You find yourself paying more attention to her than to the movie playing in front of you.

Before you can even prevent the words from slipping past your lips you whisper, just like a dumb middle school girl, “I think I have a crush on you.” It’s hardly a confession, it’s just a little whisper to a sleeping girl. But still, it’s more of the truth than you were supposed to let yourself say.

And then another whisper fills the room: “I have a crush on you too.”

——————————————————————————

hiiiii this chapter was SO fun. guys we had a confession! i’ve literally been freaking out because what do you mean my posts are getting 100 notes. that’s INSANE. thank you all so much 🫶🫶🫶

do we want a make out next chapter cause i can make that happen. let me know! also the Hot Wheels boxers were inspired by the Hot Wheels boxers i got my girlfriend for her birthday

i love you all so much!!!

-Blue 🦋

tag list:

@vahnilla @elliesngirl @naniiiii12 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliesgffrfr @nymanas @yashirawr @leeidk87