#squeezing last of the words out of my heart

[cuteandhughesy]

Crawling Back To You | Matthew Knies

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

19.9k (…whoops)

warnings: enemies to lovers | the slowest of slow burns. like seriously buckle up | emotional cheating? kinda not really? | thoughts of infidelity | drinking | intense make out scene | kind of a unfinished ending (sorry in advance) | suggestive scenes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

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Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't  have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones  "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous. 

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff.  "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific. 

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you  call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

playlist

every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police

pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

wrong by zayn

your needs, my needs by noah kahan

do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex

if I can't be with you by olivia obrien

I would by one direction

[siriuslylantsov]

morning glory

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: following the events of drunken confessions. the next morning after spencer tells you he loves you, albeit drunk and half asleep, you don't know if he means it.

tags: fluff, gn!reader, hangover but i dont dwell on it, whiny!spencer (lol), so so soft, r is so unsure but she just needs reassurance.

a/n: omg my first pt 2 as per popular demand (3 people asked), happy reading!

wc: 1.6k

i love you. 

three words that bounce from one end to the other in your head, like a pendulum, reverberating across the hard surface of your skull. it echoes through the small space of your ear canal, taking up entirely too much space. it repeats with the beat of your pulse, heart thudding in a steady rhythm. 

suffice it to say, you barely slept. running the words over and over for some kind of clarity. instead you preoccupied yourself with watching spencer sleep, like you are now.

with the sunrise, came light. light that filtered through the curtains just enough that you could see his face. his lips are slightly parted, soft puffs of air that don’t quite reach you. they’re pulled down minutely, in a little frown, seemingly how his face falls when he's unconscious. it's sweet. his eyebrows twitch, creasing momentarily, you wonder if he’s dreaming, or if it's a nightmare. 

your fingers itch to reach out and touch him, soothe the line. but he's so peaceful, you don't know if you want to wake him up. you never get to see him like this, without the weight of the world on his shoulders, unthinking. so you stall a bit, let the wave of serenity pass before it comes crashing down in the form of a violent hangover. 

you probably stay like that for an hour, an hour spent admiring his features. it's easier than confronting what he said. he’d stayed in the same position all night, curled up on his side, facing you. you’re leaning on your elbow now, looking down at him from above. his face moves, nuzzling into the pillow beneath his head. it causes that same stubborn strand of hair to fall loose. 

you give in and touch him this time, tucking the piece behind his ear. you trace a finger over his brow bone and then down the slope of his perfect nose. this causes him to stir, eyes fluttering open as he takes in his surroundings before they land on you. they instantly soften.

“morning,” you whisper, wary of your volume.

“hey,” he croaks, voice riddled in sleep. all his features pull up, twisted in a grimace as his head throbs. he rolls onto his back, bringing his fingers up to his temple, rubbing the pads of them in between his eyebrows. 

“where's your aspirin?” 

he hums in thought, or in pain, it's uncertain. “the um- drawer,” he points beside him aimlessly, eyes still closed. he's about to move to get it but you stop him, leaning over his body to reach the bedside table next to him. you reach over him, hovering awkwardly over his body. you shiver imperceptibly when his hand settles on your waist for support, an unconscious action, you suppose. when you find it, you give him a pill and he swallows, his hand falls back to his side.

“what time is it?” he grumbles.

“quarter to twelve,” you respond, barring a quick look at the analog clock that sat on his dresser. 

he harrumphs, something of acknowledgement. you didn’t think he’d be this grumpy waking up but you don't mind, it's awfully cute.

“it’s so bright,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut further, if possible. 

“your eyes are closed.”

“my retinas are burning,” he whines, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield him from the sunlight in a thespian flourish. 

“so dramatic,” you huff as you get up to close the curtains, the smile in your voice irrefutably evident. you peek out the window first, your car is still parked outside, you stayed the night!

when you sit back down on the bed, his head seeks you out, laying gently on your lap. you card a hand through his hair, the action seemingly appropriate. he lets out a hum, satisfied.

“do you remember much from last night?” you ask, trying to come off casual, the question is loaded to say the least. plus, you don't know if alcohol affects an eidetic memory the same way. maybe he remembers everything, like always.

“no,” he says with a little shrug. “well, i remember going to the bar and morgan spilling a shot on his shirt but that's it.”

oh. so not that differently.

“well, i'm sure he’ll appreciate you remembering that,” you chuckle, ruffling his hair. with a long sigh, you decide to not bring it up. it’ll come back to him, surely. you’ll wait for him to come to you about it. 

you lift his head off your lap and let him sink back into the pillows. “how about you freshen up and i’ll make you some toast?”

his eyes peek open, barely. “yes please,” he replies meekly, a small smile in tow.

-

you put slices of bread into the toaster on his counter, leaning against it as you wait. what happens if he doesn't remember? will you tell him? how do you even bring that up?

hey spencer! last night you told me you love me. do you?

the loud spring of the toaster startles you back to the moment. behind his bedroom door, you can hear the faint sound of his shower running and you remember you’re still in his clothes. god, you're gonna have to wear yesterday's clothes back home. you mindlessly take the hot toast out and set it on a plate, wincing when you hold them for too long. you put 2 more slices of bread in, for you of course. 

you decide to make some eggs too, pulling the carton out of the fridge and getting a pan from beside his sink. you move with surprising ease through his kitchen, like you’d been there before. you haven't, but again, it's so easy with spencer, it apparently extends to his home too. you hum absentmindedly, cracking an egg into a bowl and beating it with a fork. you don’t know it yet but spencer's watching you, having finished his shower.

-

it all comes back to him slowly, as he puts on a new change of clothes, skin still a little damp.

asking penelope for a drink, drinking it, thinking, thinking about you, you showing up? maybe he was magic. you sitting with him, talking to him, taking him home. he remembers stumbling up the stairs, his arm thrown haphazardly over your shoulders and yours hooked around his waist.

“you're so nice, y’know?” 

“yeah? you won't think so tomorrow morning.”

you tucked him in, stayed when he asked you to. you told him about your breakup and he told you, oh, he told you he loved you.

shit. 

he has to make this right. he's quick to feed his arm into the last sleeve and walk out of his room. however, he stops when he sees you. swaying lightly, humming a tune he recognises from last night, standing there in his clothes. he thinks he might die. clearly, he wasn’t paying much at all when he woke up earlier. damn headache. 

-

“i told you i loved you.”

your head snaps in his direction, unaware of his presence. you jump a little before calming. “yeah... you did,” you confirm, trying to keep your tone light. it wasn't a question but you still answer. he remembers.

“and you told me to tell you again when i wake up,” he recalls.

you chuckle quietly, “i didn't realise you heard that.”

“i did.”

you nod, slowly, expectantly, for him to say something else, anything else. 

“i love you.” there it is.

“you mean that?” your voice comes out way smaller than you intended. he still hasn't moved.

“of course i do,” he says with a sigh, inching his way closer. you look like you're going to spook.

“okay,” you breathe, looking down at your fingers, you begin to ramble. “it's just, last night- you were drunk and sleepy and well, tired and i didnt know if you were being honest or just saying it on whim.” 

he's suddenly in front of you and you can't look at him. he's fine with that, it makes it slightly easier.

“hey, i mean it. i love you. i’m sorry i said it how i did, it wasn't fair. and you don't have to say anything back, i just- want you to know.”

you look up at him now, eyes searching, and when you find sincerity in his eyes, you soften, muttering out a quiet “okay.” your lips twist to the side, trying not to smile, but glee fills out every nook and cranny of your body. he takes this as a good sign and lets out the breath he didn't realise he was holding, smiling back at you.

“so,” you start, seemingly casual. “how do you take your eggs?”

spencer laughs, amused by your change in topic. he nods toward the bowl of already beaten eggs, “scrambled.”

you nod, firmly. you pick up the bowl and move to the stovetop, but not before grabbing his fingers with your free hand and pulling him with you. 

your thumb glides along the curve of his forefinger as you hold it between your bodies, waiting for the pan to heat up. you’re biting your lip so much, you think you might draw blood. you’re unbearably happy. and you think you’re doing a good job of hiding it but you’re not. spencer can see the way you giddily twitch by his side, opting on not saying anything about it as he smiles softly.

“you love me,” you tease, singsong, dragging out the ‘love’. your head leans against his shoulder. 

“mhm,” he confirms. ”you’re never gonna let me live this down, huh?”

“nope,” you chirp, pressing a chaste kiss to his shirt.

reblogs and replies are appreciated | m.list

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ Worried About You

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of unhealthy eating habits

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: so many fun things to come without that boy in the way

MORNING COMES too soon for Jo, pulling her from the deep, restless sleep she finally fell into. At first, she doesn’t open her eyes. She just lies there, warm and still, trying to cling to the hazy edges of unconsciousness. It’s better there. There, she doesn’t have to think. But then she shifts slightly and feels the unmistakable weight of an arm draped over her waist, a steady warmth pressed against her back.

For a fleeting second, in the soft, blurry quiet of waking up, her brain wants to think it’s Asher. That maybe last night was some awful, vivid nightmare, and she’ll roll over and find him there, smiling at her like everything is fine and he didn’t throw the last five—or, really, nineteen—years of their lives away. But then her thoughts sharpen, reality settling like a stone in her chest, and she remembers everything.

It’s not Asher’s arm around her. It’s Paige’s.

Her heart feels heavy all over again, sinking with the weight of the truth. Asher cheated. Since September. Three months of doing God-knows-what with that Brooke girl.

Her throat tightens, and she squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears to stay put. She cried enough last night. Too much, probably. And Paige—God, Paige—was there for all of it. Patient and kind, not saying much but doing everything Jo needed, like pulling her back together without even trying.

Jo takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle deep in her ribs. Slowly, she turns in Paige’s arms until she’s facing her. The room is dim, the light from the window covered by the blanket Paige always keeps over it. Paige is awake, or mostly awake, blinking sleepily at her. Her blonde hair is a little messy, sticking up at certain edges, and her face is soft and unguarded.

When Paige notices Jo looking at her, a soft smile tugs at her lips. She reaches out, her hand brushing some hair away from Jo’s face with a gentle touch. Jo leans into it a little. “Hey,” Paige murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.

Jo forces a small smile of her own. It’s weak, but it’s something. “Hey,” she whispers back.

They fall quiet again. Jo doesn’t know what to say, and Paige doesn’t seem in a rush to fill the silence. Paige’s arm is still wrapped around Jo’s waist, and the younger girl finds herself wanting to be even closer. It just—it feels good, being held like this. Comforting. Safe. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into Paige’s warmth.

It’s not like Asher’s. Asher’s arms always felt solid, familiar, but Paige’s—Paige’s feel different. Softer, somehow, though still firm with muscle. Not worse, just… different. And maybe Jo likes it more than she should.

Her mind keeps circling back to everything that happened, no matter how much she wants it to stop. The fight. The crushing, suffocating betrayal. The excuses. Jo’s loved Asher for so long, she doesn’t even know how to think of herself without him. It’s always been them. People used to say they were inevitable, like something out of a movie. It feels like a joke now.

Her fingers tighten slightly around Bubbles, the stuffed turtle Paige had thought to grab for her last night. Jo had clung to it like a lifeline, the soft fabric soaked with tears by the time she’d finally fallen asleep. Paige hadn’t let go of her the entire night. She didn’t even flinch when Jo’s sobs soaked her shirt.

Paige shifts slightly, pulling Jo closer, her hand still resting lightly on Jo’s side. It’s like Paige knows Jo needs this without needing to be told. She always does. Jo doesn’t know how she does it, how Paige seems to understand her better than anyone else.

Paige’s thumb moves absentmindedly over the fabric of Jo’s shirt, a small, soothing motion that Jo finds herself focusing on. It’s helps to pull her away from the spiral of her thoughts a little. She lets out a slow breath, her body relaxing just slightly more against Paige’s.

“Thanks for dealing with me,” Jo whispers after a while.

Paige’s hand stills for a moment, and then she squeezes Jo’s side gently. “You’re not something that has to be dealt with, Jo,” she says slowly, voice soft but steady. “I’mma always be here for you, ’kay?”

Jo’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not entirely from sadness. She doesn’t have the words to explain how much that means to her, how much Paige means to her. So she doesn’t try. She just shifts a little closer, letting her head rest against Paige’s shoulder. Paige doesn’t say anything else, and Jo appreciates that.

Jo isn’t sure how long they stay like that. But, eventually, Paige begins to slowly sit up, her hand still pressed against Jo’s side. Jo watches as the blonde rubs at her eyes a little, before looking down at her. She offers her another small smile.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast,” Paige says determinedly, her fingers trailing across Jo’s waist. “Just stay here. Relax. Go back to sleep if you want.”

Jo blinks at her, her lips parting as if to argue, but she doesn’t really have the energy to fight—even if it’s just a little bit of bickering. Besides, the idea of staying in bed, cocooned in the comfort of Paige’s blankets, is all too tempting, even if she doubts Paige’s ability to cook anything remotely edible. She’s a little afraid Paige might burn their apartment building to the ground, but she also knows that Paige is trying to help in the only way she can think of, and Jo doesn’t have it in her to tell her no.

“Okay,” Jo murmurs. “Just be careful.”

Paige just grins down at her, expression warm and inviting. She squeezes Jo’s side again before swinging her legs off the bed, standing. Jo’s eyes follow her as she moves toward the door. The blonde glances back at her, saying, “It’s gonna be good, trust,” before leaving through the bedroom door.

Once Paige is gone, the room feels quieter—emptier.

Jo sinks back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling as the events of the last twelve hours replay in her mind like a terrible movie. She can still hear Asher’s voice, still see the guilt, the desperation in his eyes.

Her stomach twists with nausea as the memory washes over her. She really doesn’t want to think about it anymore, but it’s like her brain isn’t giving her any other choice.

Jo sighs, feeling like she’s been run over by a train. She rolls onto her side, her hand reaching for her phone. She’s got to know, has to see. The urge is too strong to resist.

She unlocks her phone and goes straight to Asher’s Instagram. It’s like picking at a scab, painful but impossible to stop. Unable to help herself, she scrolls through his posts, her thumb pausing over a photo dump he posted a couple weeks ago. In the first photo, he’s at a football game, smiling, looking so carefree, like he doesn’t have a single regret in the world.

And then she’s going to his following, her heart pounding as she searches for a name—Brooke. He only follows one, and, sure enough when Jo clicks on her profile—the girl goes to Penn State. This is her.

Jo clicks on the first photo and almost immediately regrets it. Brooke is beautiful—brown hair that falls in perfect curls, striking green eyes that seem to glow, and a smile that’s so effortless it feels like a punch to Jo’s gut. Jo stares at the photo, her mind racing with questions she doesn’t want to ask but can’t seem to stop. What does she have that I don’t?

The thought makes her throat tighten, and she’s about to click away when the door creaks open. Paige steps back inside, leaning against the doorframe and staring at Jo curiously.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she asks.

Jo hesitates, her finger hovering over the screen. She glances up at Paige, who’s already raising an eyebrow at her. With a sigh, Jo sits up fully in bed and turns the phone toward the blonde, showing her the photo of Brooke.

“Is she prettier than me?” Jo asks, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably.

Paige’s expression shifts a little, her brow furrowing as she walks closer, stopping at the end of the bed. She leans in, looking at the photo for a long second before meeting Jo’s gaze, blue eyes intense.

“Who is she?” Paige questions, though her voice is firm enough that Jo thinks she might already know the answer.

Jo swallows hard anyway, the words catching in her throat. “The girl he cheated on me with,” she mutters. The sentence tastes bitter on her tongue.

The instant the words leave her mouth, Paige’s expression hardens. Without hesitation, she reaches down and snatches the phone right out of Jo’s hand. “Nah,” Paige says firmly, holding it just out of Jo’s reach. “You are not goin’ down that path.”

“Hey, give it back!” Jo protests, sitting up and reaching for the phone.

But Paige is quick, sliding away with a mischievous grin. “Uh-uh,” Paige says, her arm extended high with the phone, like she’s playing keep-away with a basketball. “You’re not gettin��� it back until you stop being all self-destructive.”

Jo narrows her eyes a little, her competitiveness somehow managing to break through despite the whole situation she’s got going on. “Paige, I swear—” She lunges, tackling Paige’s arm, but Paige squirms away, laughing some. The sound of Paige’s laughter—loud, unrestrained, and higher in pitch—is oddly infectious, and before Jo knows it, she’s laughing too. The sound bubbles out of her chest like a small spark of light breaking through the dark pressing down on her. It feels good, to laugh like this.

Jo pulls Paige, and the blonde ends up stumbling onto the bed. It freaks beneath them as they wrestle for the phone. Jo tries to pin Paige’s arm down, but she wriggles free easily enough. “Paige, I’m serious! Give it back!” Jo protests, hands grabbing at the older girl.

“I’m serious, too!” Paige retorts, dodging Jo’s next grab with an exaggerated roll. “This is for your own good, JoJo!”

“Don’t ‘JoJo’ me!” Jo huffs, planting her hands on the mattress to steady herself before diving forward again. This time, she catches Paige’s wrist, but Paige twists her body, and suddenly they’re tumbling together across the bed, laughter spilling out of them again. For the first time since she found out, Jo isn’t thinking about Asher, or Brooke, or the overwhelming heartache that’s been sitting heavy within her. All she can focus on is the sheer ridiculousness of her and Paige’s impromptu wrestling match and the warmth that comes with it.

Paige, of course, ends up with the upper hand. With one final burst of effort, she pushes Jo back against the pillows, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists to the bed. “Ha!” Paige exclaims loudly. But then her voice grows a little softer as she grins down at Jo, murmuring, “I win.”

Jo stills, her laughter fading as she suddenly becomes acutely aware of the position they’re in. Paige is above her, her legs on either side of Jo’s hips, her hands firm but gentle around Jo’s wrists. Paige’s face is so close, her still untamed bed head framing her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Jo’s heart does their weird, traitorous thing where it skips a beat, and she doesn’t know why. Or maybe she does, but she refuses to acknowledge it because the insinuation would be nothing short of absurd.

Her eyes trace Paige’s face—those pretty blue eyes that always seem to see straight through her, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her mouth quirks just slightly like she’s still holding back a laugh. Jo’s gaze dips, just for a second, to Paige’s lips, and then she quickly looks away, heat flooding her cheeks. God, this whole Asher thing must have given her brain damage or something.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice Jo’s sudden shift in demeanor. She’s too busy leaning closer, her expression softening as she speaks. “You are a million times fuckin’ prettier than that bitch,” Paige says firmly, resolutely, the kind of tone she uses when she’s absolutely sure of something. “But stalking her is only gonna make you feel worse. I’m serious, Joey. I’ll revoke your phone privileges if I have to.”

Jo blinks, feeling Paige’s words cutting through some of the self-loathing that’s been poisoning her brain. Paige says it like it’s a fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it does actually make Jo believe her. Just a little.

Still, she can’t help the sarcastic quip that slips out. “What are you, my mother?” she asks.

Paige grins, leaning back just slightly but still keeping Jo’s wrists pinned. “Nah,” she replies, her voice light. “’M your captain. So you gotta listen to me.”

Jo rolls her eyes, but it’s more playful than annoyed. “Sure,” she mumbles, though the corners of her mouth twitch upward. She feels a little lighter now, like Paige’s words and antics have managed to patch up some of the open wounds.

But then Paige’s gaze locks with hers, and the air around them stills. They’re just staring at each other now, the laughter fading into silence. Paige’s hands are still on Jo’s wrists, her knees pressing into the mattress to keep her balanced. Jo’s pulse quickens as she stares at Paige’s eyes. There’s something in her expression—something soft and searching—that makes Jo’s breath catch.

Her thoughts begin to jumble into a mess of confusion and something else. Because why does Paige have to look at her like that? And why does she have to be so close, her presence so suddenly overwhelming? And, most importantly, why does it make Jo’s heart feel like it’s about to burst out of her chest?

The moment stretches heavily, until, like a switch is flipped, Paige seems to snap out of it. She blinks, breaking eye contact, and quickly rolls off of Jo, her movements abrupt. “C’mon,” she says, grabbing Jo’s hand and tugging her toward the edge of the bed. “Breakfast.”

Jo lets out a shaky breath, sitting up and following Paige. But as she glances at Paige’s back, a small part of her wonders what that was—and why she kind of wishes it had lasted longer.

PAIGE SITS on the couch, one leg tucked underneath her, the glow of the TV reflecting faintly off her face. The UConn men’s team is playing, but she isn’t paying much attention, not really. She’s scrolling through her phone during timeouts, trying to keep her mind from drifting to Jo. It’s not like she’s trying to smother Jo with concern—it’s just that lately, it feels impossible not to worry. Jo’s been… off. Maybe not in ways that anyone else would notice, but Paige sees it. She pays so much attention to her that it would be impossible not to.

Jo isn’t as okay as she pretends to be. It’s in the way she laughs, too loud and too often, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as everyone else that she’s fine. It’s in the way she brushes off questions about how she’s doing or jokes when someone pries too much. But Paige knows better. She sees how Jo has thrown herself into basketball like it’s the only thing tethering her to the ground, the way she pushes herself so hard in practice that she’s damn near sick afterward. She knows Jo is out at either ungodly hours of the night or ungodly hours of the morning, always trying to get more reps in. And it’s not just the basketball.

Paige can tell Jo’s forgetting meals. Lately, she’s been having to remind her to drink or hydrate herself much more often, because she can tell that she hasn’t. Paige knows Jo isn’t doing it intentionally—she’s just been forgetting, too caught up in everything else to remember she needs to take care of herself, too.

Paige knows Jo’s been struggling since the breakup with Asher, and while Jo has always been a perfectionist, always had basketball as her number one priority, this feels different. More self-destructive.

And Paige doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like feeling like she’s watching Jo slowly burn herself out and not knowing how to stop it. Jo doesn’t let people see her cracks—she’s so stubborn about it, only allowing people to see the happy-go-lucky side of her—but Paige sees them anyway. It’s like watching someone tread water, the strain starting to show in every movement, and Paige can’t shake the anxiety that one day Jo’s going to slip under.

She sighs, staring blankly at the TV as the Alex Karaban makes a three. The apartment feels too quiet without Jo here. Jo said she’d be studying with Ice tonight, but Paige doesn’t entirely believe her. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Jo—it’s just that, lately, Jo hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about what she’s doing. Paige has a bad feeling she’s at the gym or running herself into the ground somewhere, but she doesn’t know how to call Jo out on it without starting a fight.

The sound of the front door opening snaps Paige out of her thoughts. She glances over as Jo steps inside, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her ponytail bouncing as she kicks the door shut behind her. Jo grins at Paige, breathless and bright-eyed, as she bends down to untie her shoes. “Hey,” she says, her voice chipper in a way that only deepens Paige’s suspicion.

Paige narrows her eyes slightly, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Hey…” she replies slowly, her tone cautious. Jo’s coat is still zipped up, and her sneakers are wet, leaving faint marks on the floor. Jo’s grinning, but her face is shiny with sweat, like she’s been moving hard for a while. Paige tilts her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she asks, “Were you running?”

Jo shrugs off her coat, avoiding Paige’s gaze as she tosses it over the back of a chair. “Um… yeah,” she says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Paige stares at her, incredulous. It’s nearly midnight. It’s December. It’s freezing outside. Jo is nineteen, a teenage girl running in the pitch-black cold of winter, and it’s so obviously not safe that Paige can’t believe Jo thought it was a good idea. And yet, Jo’s standing there like it’s nothing, like she’s completely unaware of how reckless it is, how it makes Paige’s chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to panic.

“Bro,” Paige says, her voice sharp, her heart pounding just a little faster as she sits up straighter on the couch. “You gotta stop doing that. You’re gonna get sick or fuckin’ kidnapped.”

“P, I’m not gonna get kidnapped,” Jo says with an airy, dismissive laugh, brushing her off like it’s nothing. Like the idea is so ridiculous it doesn’t even deserve consideration. But Paige can’t just let it go. She doesn’t like the thought of Jo out there alone, running through the freezing December night with God knows who lurking around, and the fact that Jo doesn’t seem to care—or even notice—just makes it worse.

Paige shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gestures for Jo to come closer, patting at the couch cushion. “C’mere,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jo hesitates for the briefest of moments before sighing and making her way over. She flops onto the couch beside Paige with the kind of carelessness that’s so uniquely Jo, her movements loose and unguarded. Without a word, she curls into Paige’s side, her head resting on Paige’s shoulder, her body folding into Paige like this is second nature. Because by now, it is.

Paige’s heart skips a beat, like it always does when Jo gets this close. She wraps her arms around Jo instinctively, holding her tight like she’s something fragile and precious that might slip through her fingers if she’s not careful. Her chest tightens with the feelings she never knows what to do with—feelings she’s spent months trying to suppress, trying to shove down deep where Jo won’t see them. But it’s impossible to ignore the way her body reacts to moments like this, the way her pulse quickens and her breath hitches, the way she feels like she’s holding her entire world in her arms.

“You’re freezing,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft but filled with quiet concern. She starts rubbing her hands up and down Jo’s arms, trying to generate some warmth. Jo’s skin is icy under her fingers, and the thought of her being out in this weather makes Paige’s stomach clench all over again.

“I feel good,” Jo disagrees, her tone light and casual, like she doesn’t even notice the chill seeping into her body. But Paige can feel the way Jo leans into her warmth, just a little. She’s been like this recently—minimizing, brushing things off, pretending she doesn’t need anything from anyone. It drives Paige a little crazu, but it also makes her want to hold Jo tighter, to make sure she knows she doesn’t have to do it all by herself.

For a few minutes, they just sit like that, Paige holding Jo close, her hands still rubbing warmth into Jo’s arms even though she knows Jo won’t ask for it. The TV plays in the background, but Paige isn’t paying attention to it anymore. All she can focus on is the weight of Jo against her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the faint scent of Jo’s shampoo mixing with the cold air clinging to her skin. It’s a little bit intoxicating.

Eventually, though, the gnawing worry in the back of her mind pushes its way back to the surface, and Paige remembers something she needs to ask. She tilts her head slightly, glancing down at Jo. “Hey,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the comfortable quiet. “Have you eaten?”

Jo doesn’t respond right away. She makes a little face, her nose scrunching up like she’s just remembered something she forgot to do. “Um… this morning?” she says, her voice unsure, almost like she’s questioning herself.

Paige gives her a look, her brows knitting together in frustration and concern. “Jo,” she exclaims, her voice sharper than she intends. She knows she shouldn’t push, shouldn’t scold, but it’s hard not to when she sees Jo taking care of everything but herself.

“It’s fine,” Jo says, waving her off like it’s no big deal. Paige hates how easily Jo dismisses her own well-being, like it’s the last thing on her priority list.

“It’s not,” Paige says firmly, shaking her head. She squeezes her arms around Jo slightly, as if it might drive the point home. “You gotta eat to stay healthy.”

“I know,” Jo mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans further into Paige’s warmth. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s something resigned about it too, like she’s heard it all before and doesn’t want to hear it again.

Paige considers pressing her, considers giving her a whole speech about how she can’t keep running herself into the ground like this, but something in Jo’s expression stops her. She looks tired, and Paige decides to let it go for now. Instead, she grabs her phone off the couch cushion and opens DoorDash, scrolling through the options.

“Whatchu want?” Paige asks, her voice gentler this time.

Jo doesn’t open her eyes at the question. Instead, she shifts a little, nestling closer into Paige’s side like she’s trying to mold herself into the older girl. “Pick for me,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against Paige’s hoodie.

Paige rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. She knows this game by now. Jo says she doesn’t care, but Paige knows better—she always cares. Jo’s just too tired to bother making a decision for herself. And anyway, Paige knows her better than anyone else, so it’s not like it’s hard. Jo’s a creature of habit. She always orders the same thing: chicken tenders or a burger, fries with extra salt, and usually a ridiculously sweet milkshake.

Paige taps the order into her phone quickly, almost automatically, and then sets it aside on the armrest, her arm falling back around Jo like it belongs there. The weight of Jo against her is familiar now, like it’s just part of her life, and she wonders if Jo even realizes how often she leans on her like this. Probably not.

For a while, they just sit there, tangled together on the couch. Jo’s body is heavy against hers, the kind of heavy that means she’s suspiciously close to falling asleep. Paige feels the faint rhythm of Jo’s breathing against her side, slow and even, and she can tell Jo’s teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Y’know,” Paige says softly, nudging Jo’s shoulder, “you can’t eat if you’re asleep.”

Jo frowns a little at that, her eyebrows pulling together, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m tired,” she mutters, her voice thick and groggy, like she’s already half-dreaming. And then, after a beat, she adds, quieter, “And my body hurts.”

Paige lets out a sigh. She knows why Jo’s body hurts—of course she does. That happens when you push yourself as hard as Jo’s been doing.

“I wonder why,” Paige says dryly, giving Jo a pointed look even though Jo’s eyes are still closed, not even registering the glare Paige is sending her way.

Jo cracks one eye open at that, just barely, and then lifts her hand to swat at Paige’s arm in the weakest attempt at a rebuttal. Paige catches her hand easily, holding it in hers for a moment before tugging her upright, gently but insistently.

“Paige,” Jo whines, her voice taking on that petulant tone she gets sometimes when she’s tired.

“Shh,” Paige says, ignoring the weak protest as she shifts Jo around. It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually, she gets Jo where she wants her: sitting between Paige’s legs with her back pressed against Paige’s front, her head resting against Paige’s collarbone.

For a second, Jo doesn’t move, her body stiff with confusion, but then Paige’s hands find her shoulders, and she feels Jo relax all at once, like the tension just drains out of her. Paige starts working her fingers into the tight muscles there, thumbs pressing into the knots she knows are always hiding just beneath Jo’s skin.

It’s instinctive, really. She’s done this before, whenever Jo really needs her to, and she knows exactly where the worst of it is. Her thumbs trace the line of Jo’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly but carefully, and Jo lets out this small, quiet hum of appreciation, her head tilting slightly to the side.

“You’re so knotted up, Joey,” Paige mutters, half to herself, her fingers finding another stubborn knot and working at it slowly. As her own words register with her, Paige can’t help but think to herself—pause. That sounded far different than she meant it to.

Jo doesn’t appear to be thinking about that, though, instead making another little sound, something between a hum and a sigh, and she leans back into Paige more, her head tipping to the side to give Paige better access. “That feels good,” she mumbles, her voice low and drowsy.

Paige smiles faintly at that, though she feels her cheeks heat, too. Her hands move up to Jo’s neck, her fingers pressing gently into the base of her skull. She can feel Jo melting against her, her body going soft and pliant, and it’s almost too much. The closeness, the weight of Jo against her, the way her fingers are in Jo’s hair now, brushing lightly against her scalp—it’s enough to make Paige’s heart race, her stomach flutter.

“You gotta stop letting yourself get this tense,” Paige murmurs, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “It’s not good for you.”

Jo doesn’t respond, just hums again, her eyes falling shut as Paige’s hands work their way back down to her shoulders. Paige keeps going, her fingers kneading gently, carefully, until she feels the last of the tension start to ease.

Eventually, she lets her hands still, her fingers lingering on Jo’s shoulders for a moment before she leans forward, resting her chin on Jo’s shoulder. Her nose brushes against Jo’s neck lightly, and she feels Jo shift slightly, leaning into her touch without even thinking about it.

“Joey,” Paige says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m really worried about you.”

Jo doesn’t say anything, but Paige can feel the way she stiffens slightly, her body tensing again under Paige’s hands.

“I need you to promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Paige continues, her words coming out softer now, gentler, but no less firm. “I’m serious. You can’t keep doin’ all this.”

Jo doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she’s pushed too hard, said too much. But then Jo shifts again, leaning back against her, and Paige can feel the way she nods, just a little, like she’s letting herself lean on Paige for once.

And even though Paige knows Jo might not be able to do good on her answer—not entirely, not yet—she also knows that if Jo can’t take care of herself, Paige will do her best to take care of her. She always will.

IT TAKES a couple of weeks, but Jo eventually starts slipping back into healthier habits. It’s slow, gradual, almost imperceptible at first—like the way spring melts into summer. But Paige notices every small change. She notices when Jo starts remembering to eat without being reminded, when she actually stretches after practice instead of just crashing into a chair. She notices when Jo finally stops going out on late-night runs, and she’s proud to say she played a part in putting an end to that.

Okay, maybe Paige’s a little overbearing. She’s aware of it, but she doesn’t care. If being overbearing means making sure Jo isn’t spiraling again, so be it. It’s worth it, even if it means insisting on walking Jo back to her dorm every night after team meetings and double-checking that she’s actually getting enough sleep. And if that also happens to mean sharing a bed almost every night—whether it’s in Jo’s room or her own—then that’s just a bonus. Paige tries not to think too hard about how much she prefers it that way.

Jo doesn’t complain. If anything, she seems to welcome it. She lets Paige pull her into bed when her eyelids get heavy at a respectable hour, lets Paige cuddle in with her. It’s just what’s become normal.

It’s only when Paige realizes what’s driving Jo—what’s keeping her grounded—that everything else starts to click into place. Jo wants a national championship. That’s what she’s been laser-focused on since day one, the thing that keeps her going even when her body’s sore and her mind is tired. And Paige gets it—God, she really gets it. She’s been there before. Paige knows what it’s like to push through pain, to have that singular drive that makes everything else fade into the background.

And because she understands it, she steps up. Jo doesn’t ask her to, but Paige can’t help herself. She starts staying after practice, waiting for Jo to finish her drills so she can point out the tiny things—the positioning of her feet, the angle of her wrist on a jumper, the way she can seal a defender better when posting up. Paige has been where Jo is; she’s been the All-American freshman, the star on the rise. If anyone can help Jo get to that next level, it’s her. And besides, with her ACL still recovering, she might as well make herself useful.

It’s not like Jo needs much help. She was elite when she got to UConn, and now she’s something else entirely. Since Azzi went down in the Notre Dame game a couple of weeks ago, Jo’s stepped up in ways no one saw coming. She’s putting up ridiculous numbers—National Player of the Year numbers, if Paige’s being honest—and carrying the team in a way that even Geno outwardly tells her he’s proud about. Paige is proud, too. Obviously.

They’ve never been closer. Which is saying something, considering they’ve been close since basically the first day of living together. But now, it’s like their lives are so tightly intertwined they don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins. They spend almost every night together now, to the point where it’s become more unusual to sleep apart. Paige’s bed or Jo’s bed—it doesn’t matter. When they’re on the road for away games, they’ve even managed to pull off the occasional roommate swap, with Ice (Paige’s roommate) and Dorka (Jo’s roommate) begrudgingly covering for them. The arrangement works as long as CD never finds out. And while Ice and Dorka make it clear they’ll throw Jo and Paige under the bus if anyone asks, Paige can tell they don’t really mind much.

Still, Paige can’t really ignore the blatant truth at this point: that this isn’t how normal friends act. She knows that. She knows this thing with Jo—whatever it is—has gone beyond the walls of regular friendship. Friends don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms. Friends don’t hold each other like this, tangled up in hotel beds with no space between them.

But Jo doesn’t seem to notice—or if she does, she doesn’t say anything. And Paige doesn’t want to ruin it by bringing it up, especially with the breakup still fresh and still in the unknown about whether Jo feels anything at all for her. So she stays quiet, pushes her own thoughts to the side, and tells herself it’s fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Tonight is another one of those nights.

The hotel room is quiet, save for the hum of the heater in the corner and the soft sound of Jo’s breathing. The team had won earlier—a conference game that Jo basically dominated—and Paige had watched from the bench, half coach, half cheerleader. She can still picture Jo on the court, the way she sliced through defenders like they weren’t even there, the way she carried the team on her back like it was nothing.

Now, they’re curled up in the same bed, the blankets pulled up to their chins. Jo’s body is warm and solid against her, her head tucked beneath Paige’s chin, and Paige swears she can still feel the residual adrenaline humming through Jo’s veins.

“Jo,” Paige murmurs after a long stretch of silence, her voice low and soft. She doesn’t even know what she’s about to say; the words are just there, waiting to spill out.

Jo shifts slightly, turning her head so her cheek rests against Paige’s collarbone. “Hmm?”

“You were really good tonight,” Paige tells her, lips brushing against Jo’s hair.

Jo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she presses a little closer, her arm looping around Paige’s waist. “’Cause of you,” she mumbles, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Paige swallows hard. She wants to say something, wants to tell Jo how much she really means to her, how proud she is, how she’s the best thing that’s happened to this team—but the words catch in her throat.

Instead, she tightens her arm around Jo, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Jo’s shirt. It’s enough.

For now.

[mangionebabymama]

Awaken — Luigi Mangione

Summary: After undergoing a surgical procedure for his spinal disorder, at last, Luigi wakes up in recovery after surgery, and there you are, by his side.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff and feels

A/N: this was one of the first ideas that I ever came up with and imagined when I made my Tumblr account, inspired by me getting my gallbladder out two months ago. Writing this had me yearning. 😔

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed softly, their sterile glow illuminating every corner of the recovery room with a clinical brightness that felt almost harsh. The air was thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic, mingling with the weight of fatigue that settled over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, amidst it all, your attention was riveted on him—on Luigi. 

His chest rose and fell in unsound, shallow breaths, each one a reminder of his fragility. The pallor of his skin stood in stark contrast to the crisp white of the hospital pillow that cradled his head. As you watched, his dark lashes fluttered for just a moment, and a rush of hope surged through your heart. You leaned in closer, captivated by the sight of him, and your fingers brushed softly along the rough stubble of his jawline, a silent gesture of affection and longing for him, even in sickness.

He’s waking up.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly. “Hi, my beautiful boy.” His eyelids flickered again, and this time they stayed open, revealing those hazel eyes you loved so much—clouded with confusion and fatigue, but still unmistakably his. Luigi blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to piece together where he was, and why everything felt so heavy, as if all of the anesthesia thrust upon him, putting him away in a deep sleep, had banished him to a whole another world, almost a million miles away, and he was trying to find his way back home. 

“Mmm…” His voice was a low rasp, barely audible, but it shivered through you. With a tender touch, your hand glided to his cheek, cradling it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. Slowly, his eyes found yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling despite the knot of worry in your chest. “You’re okay. You’re out of surgery. Everything went perfectly.”

His brow furrowed, and he winced slightly, shifting in the bed. “Hurts…” he managed, his voice strained.

“Oh, I know, baby,” You gently brushed your fingers through his hair, tucking it back from his forehead as you whispered sweetly to him. “But it’s going to get better now. No more pain. No more constant ache in your back. This is the start of something new, Lu. It’s a whole new start… it’s gonna be all over now.”

He let out a soft groan, a sound filled with frustration and longing. His hand twitched slightly, as if a deep-seated desire compelled him to reach for yours, yet he struggled to summon the strength to move. The weight of exhaustion seemed to anchor him down. Not wanting to wait for him to gather his resolve, you gently took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together with care. As you squeezed softly, a warmth spread between you, a small gesture that conveyed comfort and connection, bridging the distance that had momentarily felt insurmountable. “You’re so strong,” you cooed, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “So incredibly strong. You made it through this, and I’m so proud of you.”

His lips parted, and he struggled to find words for a moment. “You… stayed,” he finally said, his voice heavy with drowsiness and deep appreciation.

“Of course I stayed,” you replied, your throat tightening. “Where else would I be?”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he closed his eyes again, exhaling slowly. “Love you,” he mumbled, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You sat quietly in the dimly lit room, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor punctuating the stillness like a metronome keeping time. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of something floral from a nearby vase. His chest rose and fell steadily, each breath a gentle reminder of life, and you could see the tension ease from his face as he slowly slipped back into the embrace of slumber. The tranquil atmosphere wrapped around you both, creating a cocoon of peace amid the chaos outside the room.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, his eyes opened again, clearer and more focused this time, and he was awake.

“How… how long was I out?” he asked, his voice steadier now.

“About three hours since they brought you back here,” you said, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “The surgery itself took a little over four. But you’re doing great. Really.”

He nodded slowly, wincing again as he shifted slightly in the bed. “I feel… stiff. Heavy.”

“That’s normal,” you assured him, your fingers gently trailing down to massage his shoulder. “Your body’s been through a lot today. Just take it easy, okay? Let yourself rest.”

His gaze lingered on you, and it was intense, in spite of his exhaustion. Something unspoken was in his eyes, tender and raw, making your breath catch in your throat. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, almost pleadingly.

“Of course,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere; I’m going to stay overnight like I planned.”

For a long moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you two. With a gentle breath, you leaned in slowly, your heart racing as your lips met his in a delicate kiss. It was soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that lingered in the air, infused with a sense of tenderness. As your lips brushed together, a spark of warmth unfurled within you, spreading like the first rays of dawn—the softness of the moment wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. When you pulled back, his eyes were not wholly lidded, content with what they laid themselves upon, but all together, drowsy from sleep. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“For being here. For… taking care of me.”

Your chest tightened, and you had to swallow hard before you could respond. “You don’t have to thank me, Luigi. This is what love is. It’s just you and me. Being there for each other, no matter what.”

He didn’t say anything, but how he looked at you told everything. And then, as if the effort of staying awake had become too much, his eyelids drooped, and he let out a deep, shaky breath. Within moments, he was asleep again, his hand still loosely clasped in yours.

You watched him for a while, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes, memorizing every detail. Even now, exhausted and vulnerable, he was breathtaking. And knowing that he trusted you enough to let his guard down like this—to show you this side of himself—filled you with a sense of awe you couldn’t quite put into words.

Eventually, you reached for the chair beside the bed and dragged it closer, settling in without letting go of his hand. Your thumb brushed absently over his knuckles as you gazed at his peaceful expression, your mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. The path to recovery would be anything but straightforward. It would be filled with challenges, and there would undoubtedly be moments of pain that would test resilience. Frustration would creep in, especially during the tough times when progress seemed painfully slow or when setbacks felt overwhelming. Doubts would occasionally surface, casting shadows over hope. Yet, through it all, you would stand strong together, facing each hurdle as a unified front. This bond you shared had always seen you through the darkest moments, providing comfort in knowing that no matter how difficult the journey might become, you would never have to face it alone.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the hum of the hospital faded into the background, leaving only the sound of Luigi’s steady breathing and the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat. And in that stillness, you found a strange kind of peace—a certainty that no matter what challenges came your way, you would come out stronger on the other side.

Sometime later, you felt his hand twitch in yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find him watching you again, his eyes sleepy but sparkling with affection.

“Still here,” he murmured, his voice rough but warm.

“Always,” you repeated, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss deepened—slow and gentle, full of warmth and promise. His free hand cradled the back of your neck, drawing you closer as your lips intertwined with a soft harmony. A sense of warmth blossomed between you, familiar and reassuring, reminding you both of the deep bond you cherished together.

When you finally broke apart, you breathed a little more complicated, your foreheads resting together.

Luigi’s eyes fluttered open again, heavy with exhaustion but still searching for yours. His hand weakly reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm you were real. You leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand softly before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“I promise,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the lump forming in your throat. “I’m here for you, Luigi. For everything—every step of this recovery. Physically, emotionally… whatever you need. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, a flicker of gratitude shining through the haze of pain and fatigue. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, like gravel underfoot. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down to stroke the stubble along his jawline, every tiny little hair stippling and tickling the skin against your fingertips. “You’re worth it,” you gave your word to him, because it was the truth. Every moment, you thought to yourself, every ache, every late night, every tear—it’s all worth it.

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly beneath your touch. His eyes closed, but he frowned like he was trying to shake off some discomfort, a complication still lingering in his body. “Do you think…” he started hesitantly, swallowing hard, “…you could maybe… play with my hair? Just… until I fall asleep?”

The tremor in his voice sent a sharp pang through your chest, tugging at such emotions you didn't expect to feel. Of course, he didn’t want to ask too much, even now, after everything. Your heart ached for him, for how hard he tried to protect everyone else, even when he was the one who needed protecting the most.

“Of course,” you said immediately, shifting closer to him on the edge of the bed. Your fingers slid into his thick curls, each pretty little ringlet wrapping around each one, gently massaging his scalp with slow, deliberate motions. You would never miss out on the opportunity to play with his hair. He let out a soft groan, his head tilting slightly into your hand, as he sought out more of the soothing caress.

God, he’s beautiful, you thought, watching the tension slowly melt from his shoulders. The dim light of the room caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the dark lashes resting against his pale skin. Even in this state—groggy, disheveled, vulnerable—he was still beautiful. He will always be your beautiful boy— here, now, and forever. 

You continued to stroke his hair, your other hand trailing down to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. His breathing deepened, growing slower and more even, but his eyes flickered open again, locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely rising above a murmur, yet it was so full of feeling that it almost brought tears to your eyes. “For being here. For… for not giving up on me.”

Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, catching the slight dampness there. “I’ll never give up on you,” you replied fiercely, leaning down to press another smooch to his forehead. “Never, Lu. You’re stuck with me, okay?”

A small chuckle escaped him, though it was weak and laced with a lack of vitality. “Okay,” he agreed, his eyes drifting shut again. “Stuck sounds pretty good right now.”

You smiled, your fingers continuing their gentle ministrations through his hair. The rhythmic motion seemed to pull him further into sleep, his body sinking deeper into the mattress as the lines of pain on his face softened. Every so often, you’d lean down to brush your lips against his temple or his cheek, murmuring quiet reassurances that you weren’t going anywhere, and in that present moment, he wouldn't have to fear being alone, not ever.

It wasn’t long before his breathing grew deep and steady, the rise and fall of his chest a comforting rhythm. But even asleep, he looked like he was holding onto some unseen weight, his brows slightly furrowed and his jaw tense. You wondered if the pain was following him into his dreams, the haunting torment of his back reawakening and coming back into existence, torturing him throughout the story of a never-ending tale, a living nightmare, to say the least. 

With deliberate tenderness, you shifted your hand from his tousled hair to his broad shoulder, applying the lightest pressure, coaxing the tension away and letting him be free from suffering. His body responded almost instinctively, the tightness in his muscles beginning to dissipate under your careful touch. A soft sigh slipped through his lips, a sound that seemed to release all the weight he had been carrying, all the agony he had been forcing to contend with all this time. In that fleeting moment, he entirely transformed, surrendering to a tranquil calmness, as if the world around him had faded, leaving only a profound sense of peace and pleasure. 

"There you go,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Just rest, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers trailed back up to his face, tracing the outline of his jaw and then moving to the curve of his ear. You lingered there for a moment, committing the feel of him to memory—the warmth and feel of his skin, the way his breath fanned across your wrist, the way his presence filled the room even in silence.

His hand twitched as you pulled away slightly, reaching out, almost stopping you from going anywhere further without him. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep but tinged with desperation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it gently. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Promise.”

He nodded faintly, his grip on your hand loosening as sleep reclaimed him. You stayed like that for a while, just watching him, memorizing how his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks and his lips parted slightly as he breathed. There was something so inherently comforting about seeing him like this—vulnerable but safe, trusting you completely.

After some time, you leaned back in the chair beside his bed, keeping his hand in yours as you settled in for the night. The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the monitors and the occasional rustle of sheets as he shifted slightly in his sleep.

This is where I belong, you thought, the weight of the day finally settling over you. Right here, with him. No matter how long his recovery took, no matter how many nights you spent like this, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. He was yours, and you were his—simple as that.

-

Sometime later, you felt his fingers twiddle in your hand again. You glanced up to see him stirring, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked groggily at the ceiling. “Hey,” you said softly, sitting up straighter so he could see you better. “How are you feeling?”

He turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours. “Sore,” he admitted, his voice rough but more transparent than before. “But… better with you here.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Good,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Do you want me to keep playing with your hair?”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes already closing again. “Please.”

Your fingers returned to their earlier task, combing through his curls and massaging his scalp in slow, soothing circles. It didn’t take long for his breathing to deepen again, his body relaxing under your touch.

As you watched him drift off again, you couldn’t resist leaning down to press one last kiss to his lips—soft and fleeting but filled with all the love and promises you held for him. “Sleep well, my love,” you murmured against his skin. “I’ll be right here.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, even in sleep, and for the first time since he’d come out of surgery, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you were both exactly where you were meant to be, and together, as one, you were meant to be here.

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[w1w2]

Unsaid

Hirai Momo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7k

Synopsis: In the wake of a heart-wrenching accident, Momo is forced to confront the fragile threads of love, regret, and the words she’s left unspoken.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The dim, sterile glow of the hospital room cast an eerie shadow across the walls, amplifying the suffocating stillness that hung heavy in the air. The faint hum of machines and the steady beeping of the heart monitor were the only signs of life in the room, though even those seemed fragile, like they could falter at any moment. Y/N lay motionless on the hospital bed, her pale complexion stark against the crisp, white sheets. Bandages peeked out from beneath her gown, a stark reminder of the violence that had brought her here. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, mechanical breaths, each one controlled by the ventilator.

Momo sat in the stiff plastic chair beside the bed, leaning forward as if her presence alone could tether Y/N back to the world. Her hands gripped Y/N’s tightly, her own trembling as though they might lose their grip. The coldness of Y/N’s skin sent a chill up Momo’s spine, contrasting cruelly with the heat of her own tears that streamed unchecked down her face. Her cheeks glistened under the fluorescent light, her eyes red and swollen from hours of crying, but she barely noticed.

“Please, Y/N, wake up. Please,” Momo whispered, her voice breaking with desperation. It came out raw and hoarse, barely louder than a breath, yet it felt like she was screaming into the void. Her words cracked as they fell into the stillness of the room, swallowed by the suffocating quiet.

“You can’t leave me like this,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Not without knowing…” Her words trailed off, her throat tightening as a fresh wave of tears burned her eyes.

Her thumb moved in absent circles over Y/N’s knuckles, a rhythm she didn’t even realize she was keeping. She clung to the gesture like a lifeline, her only tangible connection to the person she had pushed away. The fragility of it all made her heart ache.

She let out a shaky breath, her gaze fixated on Y/N’s face. The girl who had always been so full of life now looked heartbreakingly small and vulnerable. The vibrant spark that once lit her expressive eyes was hidden behind closed lids, and the radiant warmth of her smile seemed like a distant memory. Momo’s fingers tightened slightly, as if she could coax Y/N’s hand to squeeze back, to show some sign that she was still there.

The memories came unbidden, vivid and relentless, like a cruel movie she couldn’t stop replaying. She saw Y/N’s face the last time they were together, tear-streaked and broken, her voice shaking with hurt as she turned away.

Momo shook her head, trying to force the image away, but it only grew sharper. The words they’d exchanged during their fight echoed in her mind, each one a jagged edge that cut her deeper every time she remembered. She had been too stubborn, too proud to stop Y/N from walking out the door.

Now, all she could do was sit here, helpless and shattered, praying for a second chance to say the words she’d been too afraid to admit.

The light flickered faintly, a small, almost imperceptible disturbance in the oppressive stillness. Momo barely noticed, her world narrowed to the lifeless hand she clung to and the silent plea in her heart. Come back to me.

She sniffled, leaning closer to Y/N, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I’m sorry for everything I said, for everything I didn’t say. You have to wake up so I can fix this. So I can tell you…” Her voice broke again, faltering into a choked sob as her forehead came to rest against their intertwined hands. Her grip tightened as though holding Y/N harder might somehow tether her back to consciousness.

“I love you.”

The words escaped her lips, soft and broken, but once they were out, the floodgates opened. Tears fell freely now, rolling down her cheeks and landing on the hospital gown Y/N wore. The admission felt like both a release and a punishment, years of feelings she had buried finally breaking free, but far too late.

Her chest heaved as she sobbed, her heart pounding against her ribs with every suppressed memory and regret. Images of Y/N’s laughter, her playful teasing, the way she’d brush her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, all of it collided with the last, tear-streaked look Y/N had given her that night.

Her lips quivered as a fragment of a song came to her, unbidden but painfully fitting. The words echoed in her mind like a cruel taunt, their melody a reminder of what she could never take back.

"If I could take us back, if I could just do that, And write in every empty space the words 'I love you' in replace..."

A bitter laugh bubbled up through her tears, sharp and jagged. It felt foreign, wrong, but she couldn’t hold it back. “You’d tease me if you knew I was quoting songs right now, wouldn’t you?” she murmured, her voice trembling with a hollow attempt at humor. She swiped at her face with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming, her vision swimming as guilt pressed down on her chest like an iron chain.

She glanced at Y/N again, her face so still, so quiet, and it made Momo’s breath hitch. “You always teased me about being too sentimental,” she continued, her voice cracking. “You’d say, ‘Momo, you’re such a softie.’ And you’d laugh. God, that laugh. Do you remember how you’d laugh at me?” Her words dissolved into another wave of sobs, her free hand clamping over her mouth as if it could keep the anguish contained.

She lowered her hand slowly, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’d give anything to hear you laugh at me again, even if it’s just to tell me I’m being ridiculous. Just… anything. Please, Y/N.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, broken and pleading. “Please, come back to me.”

The door creaked open, the faint sound cutting through the oppressive stillness of the room. Momo’s head snapped up, her reddened eyes wide with both hope and dread as a nurse stepped inside, clipboard in hand. The soft rustle of papers and the faint click of the pen felt deafening in the quiet.

Momo straightened in her chair, her body taut with anticipation. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed as if bracing for a tidal wave. “How is she?” The words came out barely above a whisper, her throat tight and raw.

The nurse approached with measured steps, her face calm but unreadable. She glanced down at her clipboard, then back at Momo. “Her condition is stable,” she said gently, her tone carrying a practiced kindness. “But she hasn’t shown any signs of waking up yet. It’s a waiting game for now.”

Stable. Waiting game. The words hit Momo like a physical blow, her breath catching in her chest. Stable meant Y/N was alive, but barely. Waiting game meant no promises, no guarantees. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of the answer, her fingers loosening their grip on the bed frame as her gaze returned to Y/N’s still face.

She managed a stiff nod, unable to muster any words. Her throat burned with the effort of holding back another sob.

The nurse lingered for a moment, her eyes softening as she looked at Momo. “Sometimes,” she offered gently, “hearing a loved one’s voice can help. Keep talking to her.”

Momo’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She nodded again, this time more slowly, and the nurse gave her a small, reassuring smile before turning to leave. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Momo alone once more in the suffocating silence of the room.

For a long moment, she sat motionless, staring blankly at the space where the nurse had stood. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sound of the heart monitor filling the emptiness around her. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, the sound more like a quiet sob, and leaned forward again.

Her trembling fingers reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face, tucking it carefully behind her ear. The simple act made her heart clench, a sharp pang of longing and regret twisting deep inside her. Y/N’s skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth Momo remembered, and it made her eyes burn with fresh tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised softly, her voice trembling as she spoke. The words felt like a vow, one she would never break. “Not until you wake up. Not until I can tell you everything I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Her voice faltered as she added, barely above a whisper, “You mean everything to me, Y/N. Everything.”

The heart monitor continued its steady rhythm, its soft beeping the only sign of life in the room. To Momo, it was a cruel backdrop to the storm raging inside her chest, a tempest of guilt, love, and desperation she couldn’t escape.

She shifted closer, resting her forehead lightly against Y/N’s arm. Her tears came again, silent but relentless, soaking the thin hospital blanket beneath her. “Do you hear me?” she murmured, her voice muffled. “I need you to hear me. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll be right here, every second, until you open your eyes.”

A deep breath shuddered through her, the sound uneven and broken. “I’ll tell you everything. No more holding back, no more running away. I promise, Y/N. I promise.”

The steady beeping of the monitor seemed to echo her words, as if silently urging her to keep going.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips brushing against Y/N’s hand as she whispered, “Please”.

Momo sat motionless, her fingers still clasped around Y/N’s lifeless hand. The words she had just spoken hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as though they might shatter under the weight of her guilt. She took a slow, shuddering breath, her gaze fixed on Y/N’s face.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the countless moments they had shared. Time felt meaningless here, and yet, the memories rushed in like a tide, pulling her away from the sterile reality of the hospital room and into a kaleidoscope of the life they had built together.

The first memory that surfaced was in the dance studio, where the polished floors gleamed under the harsh overhead lights, and the walls were lined with mirrors that reflected every movement back at them. It was the place where their friendship had truly begun. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and determination, and the faint thrum of bass-heavy music played from the corner speaker, setting the rhythm for their practice.

Momo had been in her element, her movements sharp and precise as she drilled the choreography over and over. The perfectionist in her wouldn’t allow anything less than flawless execution. Her brow furrowed in concentration, beads of sweat rolling down her temple as she hit each move with mechanical accuracy.

Y/N, however, was a whirlwind of spontaneity. She had stopped dancing minutes ago, leaning against the mirrored wall and watching Momo with a mischievous glint in her eye. Her laughter broke the tension in the room, light and melodic, drawing Momo’s attention away from her routine.

“Come on, Momo,” Y/N called out, her voice teasing but warm. “You’re wound so tight, you’re going to snap in half.”

Momo had rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward despite herself. “I’m practicing,” she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. “Unlike someone who decided to take a break.”

Y/N pushed off the wall with an exaggerated stretch, groaning as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world. “You can’t practice on an empty soul. Haven’t you heard of fun? It’s this revolutionary concept where you, I don’t know, enjoy yourself.”

Before Momo could respond, Y/N darted forward, her hand grabbing Momo’s mid-spin. “Let me show you!” she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling over as she twirled Momo around.

“Y/N—stop—” Momo had tried to resist, stumbling slightly as Y/N spun her like they were at a dance party instead of rehearsal.

But Y/N’s energy was infectious, her grip firm yet playful as she guided Momo across the floor. “Loosen up a little, Momo! I promise the world won’t end if you smile.”

At first, Momo had been stiff, her body unyielding in Y/N’s hands. But the sheer absurdity of the moment, the brightness in Y/N’s laugh, cracked her resolve. She let herself go, even if just for a moment. Their movements became more erratic, less structured, completely off-tempo.

When the song shifted to a slower beat, Y/N spun Momo one last time, sending them both collapsing onto the floor in a fit of giggles. They lay there, breathless and tangled, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re impossible,” Momo had muttered, shaking her head as a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

“And yet, here you are, laughing,” Y/N shot back, her eyes sparkling.

Momo turned her head to look at her, her laughter fading as something shifted in her chest. There was a softness in Y/N’s gaze, a warmth that seemed to seep into Momo’s very being. She wanted to say something in that moment, but the words didn’t come. She didn’t know what to call this feeling, the way her heart skipped when Y/N smiled at her like that.

Those moments had been so simple, so effortless, yet they had planted the seeds of something deeper. Momo didn’t know it then, but that was the first time she realized Y/N was different.

Y/N was special.

Another memory replaced it, unfolding late at night in a cozy, run-down diner. The kind of place that never closed, where the scent of grease and coffee lingered in the air, and the flickering neon sign outside cast a soft glow through the windows. Momo and Y/N sat across from each other in a worn vinyl booth, the table between them littered with crumpled napkins, half-eaten fries, and two nearly empty milkshake glasses.

They were both exhausted from a grueling schedule, their bodies aching and their eyelids heavy, but neither of them had wanted the night to end. This had become their ritual, a late night escape from the chaos of their world, where they could just be themselves.

Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her elbow propped on the table. The soft, yellow light from the diner’s overhead lamps bathed her face, making her eyes sparkle like they held their own tiny galaxies. She twirled a fry absentmindedly between her fingers before popping it into her mouth, chewing slowly as if lost in thought.

“You ever think about what comes next?” she asked suddenly, her voice quieter than usual.

Momo glanced up from her drink, caught off guard by the question. The straw she had been idly stirring in her milkshake stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” Y/N paused, searching for the right words. Her fingers traced lazy circles around the rim of her glass, and her gaze grew distant. “After all this. After the spotlight fades.”

Momo frowned slightly, tilting her head. “What kind of life do you want?”

The question hung between them, uncomfortably raw. Momo wasn’t used to thinking about the future in such abstract, emotional terms. She lived in the here and now, focusing on the immediate challenges and leaving the rest for later.

“I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment, shrugging as she reached for her glass again. Her voice was measured, almost dismissive, as if downplaying the weight of the question. “I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile, one that was equal parts amused and understanding. It wasn’t mocking, if anything, it was affectionate, like she knew Momo better than Momo knew herself. “You always say that,” Y/N murmured, her eyes meeting Momo’s with a tenderness that made Momo’s chest tighten.

The words were simple, almost playful, but they carried a depth that made Momo’s breath hitch. For a brief moment, the bustling world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth in Y/N’s gaze and the quiet vulnerability in her smile.

Momo wanted to reach across the table, to take Y/N’s hand in hers and say, I want a life with you. She wanted to tell her that the future she imagined wasn’t one of awards or accolades, but one filled with Y/N’s laughter, her presence, her love.

But she didn’t.

The words caught in her throat, tangled in the web of fear and doubt that had always held her back. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the glass in her hands, her fingers tightening around it like a lifeline.

“You’re always overthinking,” she teased lightly, forcing a small smile to her lips. “Maybe just take it one step at a time, like me.”

Y/N’s laugh was soft and breathy, her head tilting as she studied Momo for a moment longer. “Maybe,” she replied, her tone gentle but unconvinced.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, their banter easy and familiar. But long after they had left the diner, long after Y/N had fallen asleep in the car on the way home, her question lingered in Momo’s mind.

What kind of life do you want?

She still didn’t know how to answer.

The memories blurred, shifting to the countless nights they had spent comforting each other. One stood out more vividly than the others, etched into Momo’s mind with painful clarity.

It had been late, nearing midnight, when Momo heard the soft knock on her apartment door. She had frowned, setting aside the tea she had been sipping, and padded barefoot to the door. The sight that greeted her when she opened it made her chest tighten.

Y/N stood there, her usual bright, radiant energy replaced by something raw and fragile. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, streaks tracing the paths of tears down her cheeks. Her lips quivered as she tried to form a greeting, but no words came out.

Momo didn’t hesitate. Without a word, she stepped forward and pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the world. Y/N’s body trembled against hers, and Momo could feel the ragged, uneven breaths escaping her lips.

“It’s okay,” Momo murmured softly, her hand coming up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, standing in the dimly lit hallway. Y/N’s sobs came in waves, each one tugging at Momo’s heart. She didn’t ask what had happened. She didn’t need to. Whatever had hurt Y/N, Momo would hold her together until she could stand again.

Eventually, Y/N’s breathing began to steady, her sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. Momo guided her inside, closing the door behind them and leading her to the couch. She fetched a box of tissues, setting it on the coffee table before sitting beside her.

Y/N wiped her face with trembling hands, her fingers clutching the tissue like it was her last anchor to reality. She looked down at her lap, avoiding Momo’s gaze, her voice barely a whisper when she spoke. “Sorry for showing up like this.”

Momo shook her head immediately. “Don’t apologize,” she said firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. “You can come to me anytime, Y/N. Always.”

Y/N finally looked up at her, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. There was a vulnerability in her expression that made Momo’s throat tighten. “Thanks, Momo,” she whispered, her voice muffled as she leaned her head against Momo’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Momo’s chest ached at the words, the sincerity in them both heartwarming and heartbreaking. She wanted to say something, to tell Y/N that she would never have to find out what life without her would be like. She wanted to promise her that she would always be there, that she would catch her every time she fell.

But the words caught in her throat, weighed down by fear and uncertainty. Instead, she rested her cheek lightly against Y/N’s head, her hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re okay now,” Momo murmured. “That’s all that matters.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but her fingers tightened around Momo’s. They stayed like that, bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamp, the silence between them filled with an unspoken understanding.

"Silent days, mysteries and mistakes… Who’d be the first to break? I guess we’re alike that way."

The lyrics echoed in her mind now, a cruel reminder of the tension that had always lingered beneath the surface of their friendship. Neither of them had been brave enough to take the first step, to break the silence and risk what they had.

One memory stood out sharply, piercing through the haze like a shard of glass, the moment when everything had started to unravel. It had been a rare evening of relaxation, a casual hangout with the other TWICE members in their favorite cozy café. The atmosphere was warm and lively, the air filled with the soft hum of background music, the clatter of dishes, and bursts of laughter.

Y/N was in her element, her laughter ringing out as she regaled the group with a story about a mishap during practice. Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, her eyes shining with excitement. Everyone hung on her every word, their giggles punctuating her tale at all the right moments.

Momo sat beside her, quietly watching. She always found herself drawn to Y/N in moments like this, when her energy lit up the room like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. But as much as she loved seeing Y/N shine, there was a small part of her, a selfish, insecure part, that wished Y/N’s attention wasn’t so freely given to everyone else.

The conversation took a playful turn when Sana leaned forward, her sly grin signaling the start of one of her teasing tirades. “So, Y/N,” she began, her voice dripping with mischief, “what’s the deal with that guy who’s been trying to get your attention lately? You interested?”

The question sent a ripple of laughter around the table, everyone chiming in with exaggerated curiosity and teasing comments. Y/N rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively as she chuckled. “What? No way. He’s just being nice. There’s nothing to it.”

But for Momo, the words felt like a punch to the gut. He’s just being nice. The idea of someone else, even casually, catching Y/N’s attention made her stomach twist. Her grip tightened on her mug as she tried to push the feeling away, but the jealousy gnawed at her, relentless and sharp.

She forced a smile, willing herself to join in the laughter, but her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. She stole a glance at Y/N, who was now playfully swatting away Sana’s follow-up questions, completely unbothered.

“Momo, you okay?” Jihyo’s voice cut through her thoughts. She turned to find Jihyo watching her with a slight frown, her sharp eyes picking up on the tension Momo thought she had hidden.

“Yeah,” Momo said quickly, her voice too high, too tight. She cleared her throat, forcing another smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jihyo raised an eyebrow but let it slide, returning her attention to the group. The others, absorbed in their banter, didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. But Momo couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest like a heavy stone.

She spent the rest of the evening quiet, smiling and nodding at the right moments but unable to focus on the conversation. Her mind churned with a storm of emotions, jealousy, frustration, and, most of all, fear. Fear that someone else might one day see in Y/N what Momo saw, that they might act on it in a way Momo never had the courage to.

The walk back to Momo’s apartment was filled with a silence that felt louder than any words. Y/N didn’t seem to notice, her voice light and cheerful as she talked about the evening. She laughed at the jokes Sana had made, mimicking her exaggerated expressions, but Momo could barely muster a smile in response. Her mind was elsewhere, the knot in her chest tightening with every step.

By the time they reached Momo’s front door, Y/N finally paused, glancing at her with a curious tilt of her head. “You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah,” Momo said quickly, fumbling with her keys. Her voice was clipped, her tone betraying the storm brewing beneath her carefully maintained façade.

Y/N frowned slightly, but let it go, stepping inside and kicking off her shoes. She flopped onto the couch, her usual easy grin in place as she stretched her arms overhead. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Sana’s relentless, though. I swear, she’ll never let me live that comment about the guy down.”

Momo froze in the doorway, the casual mention of him snapping something inside her. She shut the door with more force than necessary, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to face Y/N.

“Do you think it’s funny?” Momo asked, her voice low and strained.

Y/N blinked, startled by the sharpness in her tone. “What?”

“All the teasing about that guy. Do you think it’s funny?” Momo repeated, stepping further into the room, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

Y/N sat up, her brows furrowing. “It’s just a joke, Momo. You know that.”

“Do I?” Momo snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Because it didn’t look like a joke to me. You didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly, her confusion quickly morphing into frustration. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Momo said, her voice rising, “you didn’t even try to shut it down. You just laughed and played along like it didn’t matter.”

“Because it doesn’t matter!” Y/N shot back, standing now, her voice matching Momo’s intensity. “He’s not interested in me, and even if he was, I’m not interested in him. Why are you making this a big deal?”

Momo’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, the jealousy and insecurity she had been bottling up finally spilling over. “Because I’m tired of watching you let everyone else in like they have a chance! Like they mean something to you!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You think I’m ‘letting people in’? You think I’m entertaining him?”

“You didn’t stop it, did you?” Momo shot back, her voice breaking slightly. “You just laughed it off like it’s nothing!”

“Because it is nothing!” Y/N yelled, her voice trembling. “Why can’t you trust me on that?”

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s hands were balled into fists at her sides, her breathing uneven as she stared at Momo.

“You know what, Momo?” Y/N said finally, her voice quieter but no less intense. “You’re being ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re twisting this into something it’s not. You’re acting like I’ve done something wrong when all I’ve done is exist!”

Momo’s temper flared again, the storm of jealousy and frustration inside her breaking free, spilling into words she didn’t mean but couldn’t hold back. Her voice was sharp, trembling with anger and hurt. “You never take anything seriously, Y/N. Maybe that’s the problem. You treat everything like a joke, and it’s exhausting.”

The room fell silent, the words hanging in the air like a thunderclap.

Y/N froze, her expression flickering between shock and pain. It was as if Momo had struck her, the sting of the accusation cutting deeper than any physical blow. Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining from her as quickly as it had come.

Her lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. The tears welling in her eyes glistened in the dim light, betraying the raw vulnerability she so rarely let anyone see. She blinked rapidly, her lashes damp, refusing to let the tears fall.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was heartbreakingly quiet and trembling. “Is that what you really think of me?”

The words hit Momo like a punch to the chest. She opened her mouth, her brain scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse. But the weight of her own anger, her own bitterness, held her tongue.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean—” she started, her voice faltering.

“Save it,” Y/N cut her off, her tone brittle and breaking. She took a step back, her hand clutching her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. The way she looked at Momo then, like she was a stranger, someone she couldn’t recognize, made Momo’s stomach churn with regret.

“I’m sorry I bothered you so much,” Y/N continued, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know I was such a burden to you.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I—” Momo tried again, her voice rising in desperation, but Y/N was already shaking her head.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Y/N’s voice broke, a single tear slipping down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. “To feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you? To care about someone so much and never know if they feel the same way? And then to hear you say this?”

Momo’s heart ached, her chest tightening painfully as the weight of Y/N’s words sank in. She wanted to reach out, to grab her hand and beg her to stay, but she was frozen in place.

Y/N turned toward the door, her movements stiff and jerky as if every step was a battle against her emotions. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment, her back to Momo.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the silence. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

She paused, her shoulders trembling. “You have no idea how much you mean to me,” she said, louder this time, her voice cracking under the weight of her tears. “And I guess you never will.”

The door opened with a quiet creak, then closed with a hollow, final sound that echoed in the silence of the apartment.

Momo stood rooted to the spot, her breath shallow, her heart pounding as the echoes of their fight replayed in her mind like a cruel loop. Her body screamed at her to move, to chase after Y/N, to fix this before it was too late.

But her legs wouldn’t move.

She sank onto the couch, her hands clutching her head as the tears she had been holding back spilled over. Pride and guilt rooted her in place, twisting inside her like a knife. The words she had spoken, the words she hadn’t said, they all tore at her, leaving her raw and hollow.

The storm in her chest raged on, the thunder of her regret drowning out the tiny, broken voice in her head whispering the truth. You love her. You’ve always loved her. And now you might have lost her.

Momo sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clutching the fabric as if it could anchor her. The silence of the apartment pressed down on her, suffocating and absolute. Her thoughts spiraled, the echoes of Y/N’s voice replaying in her mind.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me. And I guess you never will."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory, but it only grew louder, sharper. 

Few hours later Momo paced the length of her apartment, the soft thud of her socked feet on the wooden floor the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. The light in the room was dim, a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Her mind raced, replaying the fight in vivid, excruciating detail.

The words she had thrown at Y/N felt like poison now, eating away at her resolve. “You never take anything seriously,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with bitterness, toward herself this time. The look on Y/N’s face when she’d said those words was seared into her memory, the way her shoulders had sagged as if the weight of Momo’s accusations had been too much to bear.

She stopped pacing, her hand hovering over her phone on the coffee table. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at the screen, her mind battling between pride and guilt.

I should call her. I should apologize.

The thought rang loud and clear, but every time she reached for the phone, doubt pulled her back. What if Y/N didn’t answer? What if she didn’t want to hear from her? The fear of rejection froze her in place, her fingers trembling.

Momo sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the quiet, her voice cracking. But the silence didn’t respond.

She glanced at her phone again, the screen lighting up with the time. It had been hours since Y/N had walked out. Hours of agonizing over every word she’d said, every moment she had let slip away. Her mind kept circling back to Y/N’s parting words.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me. And I guess you never will."

Her chest tightened painfully, the weight of those words suffocating.

The sudden ring of her phone shattered the silence, piercing through the oppressive stillness of the apartment like a scream. Momo flinched, her breath catching as the sound jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts. Her heart leapt with a faint, desperate hope as she grabbed it instinctively, her hands trembling.

"It’s Y/N. It had to be."

But when she glanced at the screen, her stomach dropped. The name displayed there made her blood run cold. Y/N’s mom.

Her thumb hovered over the green button, frozen with dread. Her mind raced, conjuring every possible reason for the call, none of them good. Why would Y/N’s mom be calling her so late?

With a shaky breath, she answered. “Hello?”

“Momo?” The voice on the other end was frantic, rushed, and trembling with fear. “It’s Y/N. She’s—there’s been an accident. She’s at the hospital.”

The words didn’t register at first. They seemed to hang in the air, foreign and impossible, like a cruel prank. “What?” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I don’t know all the details,” Y/N’s mom said, her voice cracking under the strain. “But she was hit by a car. They’re working on her now. You need to come. Please, Momo.”

Momo barely heard the rest of the conversation. The phone slipped from her hand, landing on the couch with a soft thud as her body went numb. Her ears rang, the words echoing in her mind.

An accident.

The word repeated over and over, crashing against her thoughts like relentless waves. It clashed with the image burned into her memory, Y/N walking out the door, her shoulders trembling with unshed tears. Momo’s chest constricted painfully, the reality sinking in like a dagger.

She staggered to her feet, her movements mechanical as panic began to flood her veins. Her breathing quickened, coming in short, shallow gasps as her vision blurred with unshed tears. “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head as if she could deny what she’d just heard.

Her coat and keys were in her hands before she even realized she’d grabbed them. Her fingers trembled so violently that it took several tries to lock the door. Each passing second felt like an eternity, her mind racing with fragmented images of Y/N, her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she was excited.

"She can’t be hurt. She can’t be…" The thought was too much to bear, and a choked sob escaped her lips as she stumbled into the car.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Momo’s hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, her nails digging into her palms. Tears streaked down her face, blurring the glow of streetlights and the dark outlines of passing cars.

Her mind was a storm of fear and regret, images of Y/N flashing behind her eyes like a cruel slideshow.

Y/N’s laughter echoing in the dance studio as she twirled Momo around like they were at a party. The softness in her gaze during their late-night diner conversations, her voice quiet but full of warmth.The way she had clung to Momo during their most vulnerable moments, her whispered gratitude still etched into Momo’s heart.

And then, the last image, the tears in Y/N’s eyes as she turned toward the door. Her voice, trembling but full of conviction: “You have no idea how much you mean to me. And I guess you never will.”

The memory struck like a physical blow, and Momo gasped, her chest heaving as a fresh wave of tears blurred her vision. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the empty car, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please be okay. Please.”

Her heart pounded, the panic in her chest building until it felt like she couldn’t breathe. The hospital came into view, its harsh fluorescent lights cutting through the night. She barely managed to park, her hands shaking so badly she fumbled with the keys before shoving them into her bag.

She ran through the automatic doors, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as her eyes darted around for any sign of Y/N. Her legs felt weak, her body on the verge of collapse, but she pushed forward, driven by a single, desperate need: to see her. To know she was alive.

“Y/N,” she said breathlessly to the receptionist. “She was just brought in an accident, where is she?”

The woman behind the desk gave her a sympathetic look, her calm demeanor a cruel contrast to the chaos raging inside Momo. “She’s in surgery,” she said gently. “Someone will come out to update you soon. Please wait in the lounge.”

Momo nodded numbly, her legs carrying her to the waiting area on autopilot. She collapsed into a chair, her hands clutching her face as sobs wracked her body.

Her mind wouldn’t stop. The images, the regrets, the things she’d never said, it all came rushing in, a relentless tide threatening to drown her.

“No time for goodbyes, Didn’t get to apologize, Pieces of a clock that lies broken.”

The lyrics played in her mind like a cruel echo, each word twisting the knife in her chest deeper. “Please,” she whispered into the empty space around her, her voice trembling. “Don’t take her from me. I’ll do anything. Just let her be okay.”

The waiting room had felt like an eternity. Time had slowed to an agonizing crawl, each tick of the clock pounding in Momo’s ears like a drumbeat of despair. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there, her head buried in her hands, her silent pleas echoing in her mind.

When the surgeon finally appeared, her heart had stopped. The words “She made it through the surgery” had been a fragile lifeline, pulling her from the abyss. Relief had coursed through her veins, but it was fleeting. Y/N wasn’t out of the woods yet, they said. It would be a waiting game now.

And so, Momo waited.

Back in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, Momo sat by Y/N’s bedside, her hand cradling Y/N’s limp one. The faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the space, a bittersweet comfort. Y/N lay still, her pale face framed by the stark white of the pillow. The sight twisted something deep inside Momo, a mix of guilt, love, and desperation.

“Hey,” Momo said softly, her voice trembling as she stroked Y/N’s fingers with her thumb. “It’s me.”

Her lips quivered, and she bit down hard to keep herself steady. “You probably can’t hear me, but… I need you to know something.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I was too scared to tell you. I thought I’d ruin what we had. I thought I wasn’t enough for you.”

The tears she had been holding back spilled over, sliding down her cheeks and splashing onto the blanket covering Y/N. Her voice cracked as she continued, her words tumbling out like a flood. “But I was wrong. So wrong. You’re everything to me. I’ve wasted so much time being afraid. Please, don’t leave me without knowing that.”

Her chest heaved with quiet sobs as she leaned closer, her forehead resting lightly against Y/N’s hand. The lyrics of a song drifted into her mind, the words painfully fitting, as if they had been written for this moment.

"If you could only know, I never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid…"

Momo let out a shaky breath, her forehead resting briefly against their intertwined hands before lifting her gaze to Y/N’s face. Her heart ached as she took in the stillness, the pale fragility that replaced the vibrant energy she had always associated with Y/N.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her guilt. Her thumb stroked Y/N’s knuckles as she spoke, her words faltering between sobs. “For everything. For the fight, for the things I said… and for all the things I didn’t say. God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Her tears came faster, blurring her vision, but she didn’t stop. “I need you to come back,” she said, her voice trembling. “Please. I need you to wake up so I can spend the rest of my life making this right. I’ll tell you everything I should’ve said a long time ago. I’ll never hold anything back again.”

The silence in the room was suffocating, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only response to her desperate plea. It pressed down on her like a physical weight, heavier with every passing second.

Momo leaned forward, clutching Y/N’s hand tighter, as if she could anchor her back to consciousness through sheer will. “You mean everything to me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Everything. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”

Her words hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as if the truth alone could crack through the stillness. But Y/N didn’t move. Momo’s head fell, her tears soaking the blanket covering Y/N. She stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, her heart breaking all over again with each beat of the monitor.

The rhythmic hum of the heart monitor filled the silence, steady and unchanging. Outside the window, the world carried on, oblivious to the quiet war being fought in the stillness of the hospital room.

Momo’s thoughts were broken by the soft creak of the door opening. She looked up to see Y/N’s mom entering with the doctor, their expressions calm but tinged with the weight of uncertainty. Momo straightened in her chair, her heart racing as she tightened her grip on Y/N’s hand.

“Ms. Hirai,” the doctor began gently, his voice steady but measured. “I wanted to give you an update on Y/N’s condition.”

Momo nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to prepare herself for whatever he might say.

“We’ve done everything we can from a medical standpoint,” the doctor continued, his gaze shifting between Momo and Y/N’s mom. “Her body has stabilized, which is a good sign. But at this point… it’s up to her.”

Momo’s stomach sank, the words hitting her like a weight. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The doctor offered a small, sympathetic smile. “It means that we’ve done all we can to help her heal physically. Now, it’s a matter of time. Her body needs rest, and her mind needs to decide when it’s ready.”

“When… when will she wake up?” Momo’s voice cracked, the question escaping before she could stop it. Her gaze flicked to Y/N’s mom, whose face mirrored the same raw mixture of hope and fear that Momo felt.

The doctor sighed, his expression softening. “It’s hard to say. It could be days… weeks, even. There’s no way to predict.”

Momo’s chest tightened, the uncertainty clawing at her. She looked back at Y/N, her heart aching at the sight of her so still, so quiet.

“But she’s strong,” the doctor added, his voice gentle. “And the fact that she’s stable is a good sign. What she needs most now is time and support.”

Y/N’s mom nodded, her hand brushing lightly over Momo’s shoulder. “Thank you, Doctor.”

As the doctor left, Y/N’s mom lingered for a moment, her voice quiet but firm. “She’s lucky to have you, Momo.”

Momo swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the lucky one.”

When the room fell silent again, Momo leaned closer to Y/N, her forehead resting lightly against their joined hands. “Did you hear that?” she murmured, her voice trembling. “It’s your turn now, Y/N. You can do this. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

Her gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, willing her to move, to give some small sign. But the room remained still, the only sound the steady beeping of the monitor.

Momo settled back into her chair, her grip on Y/N’s hand unwavering. The uncertainty of when Y/N might wake up loomed over her like a shadow, but she refused to let it shake her resolve.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice steadying as she spoke. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

As the last rays of sunlight faded, giving way to the soft glow of the room’s overhead lights, Momo stayed at Y/N’s side, holding her hand and waiting. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear. She wouldn’t give up.

Not now. Not ever.

[reyesstrand]

I wish you would write a fic where it's Tarlos date night but it's something like bowling or mini golfing and instead of being romantic they end up being super competitive and call each other "dude" instead of "baby".

“You’re cheating.”

“How can you cheat at bowling?”

TK grumbles as he bites at the end of his straw, momentarily silenced as he tries to come up with a reply. He narrows his eyes as Carlos’ mouth slowly curves upward into a smug grin. Neither of their scores are particularly good—there’s a kid’s birthday party happening two aisles over, and some of them seem to be better than TK and Carlos combined—but his husband is definitely beating him. He watches as Carlos all but floats down from the alley and steps onto the carpeted floor, confidence sitting high in his shoulders.

“Home court advantage,” TK tries, getting to his feet and grabbing for the neon green ball.

“Dude,” Carlos laughs, resting on the seat that curves around their tiny table for two, which is holding their platter of nachos and sweating Cokes. He stretches his arm out along the top of the seat, like he does when he’s waiting for TK to join him on the couch at home or in the chairs he saves for them at public gatherings, and TK spares two seconds of being grumpy with his husband to admire the flex of his bicep and the veins in his forearm. “The last time I came here, my cousins and I still needed the bumpers. I don’t think that counts as any sort of advantage.”

TK shakes his head, locking back in as he moves into position as he stares down the triangular formation of the pins. They’ve always done team-based games, where they can sail through on their familiarity with each other and matching strong spirits and excitement. He inhales as he swings his arm back and exhales as he lets go, trying to will the ball to follow a straight line. Instead, it makes it about halfway down the lane before it slides into the gutter, and TK groans.

It’s made worse when Carlos is up again, and manages a strike.

“Dude.”

“What? Maybe you’re my good luck charm,” Carlos says sweetly, squeezing TK’s shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah,” TK says, trying not to let his husband’s smooth talking get him out of the fact that he’s suddenly an incredible bowler.

Carlos comes in closer, so his words are spoken just into the space between them. His hands drop down to TK’s hips, which he rubs his thumbs into over his loose-knit sweater. “Next round, I’ll show you the proper form.”

“Next round?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to want a rematch, since I’m winning,” Carlos grins, pointing up to the screen that flashes as they enter the final frame. TK’s heart races, his eyes searching his husband’s face, delighting in the mischievous gleam to his gaze and his dimpled smile. He wants to kiss him stupid. He also wants to demolish him in the next game.

“You’re on.”

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[undercvrfan444]

For weeks you felt as though someone was shadowing you. Anytime you went out a feeling of paranoia would settle in your shoulders and make you sick.

Whispers of white would grace your peripheral vision. It was always the same messy movement, gone before you could truly get a look at where the color originated from.

You’d been out all day. A close friend had asked you to come over and help her pack up the apartment she’d been living in for the past few months.

“I’m gonna miss you being around.” You said after taping the last box shut. What you really wanted to tell her was you’d miss feeling like you knew someone in this large city.

Nobara smiled softly at you. “I’m gonna miss you too babe!” A comfortable silent falls between the two of you while large cardboard boxes are squeezed together beside the door.

Lost in your own thoughts you almost don’t feel the petite gand on your shoulder, whipping around out of surprise. “Whoa! What’s going on with you girl?”

A small frustrated sigh pushes from your lips. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know..” Running your fingers through your hair, thoughts race behind your eyes.

“I-I don’t know how else to say this, but…I think i’m being stalked.” Feeling the words come off your tongue left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. To admit something was truly happening to you was to accept the fear that dwelled in your chest when “he” was around.

And possibly the arousal too.

How is it that a person could be stalked and in some sick fucked up way, they could be turned on by that disturbing fact. Your heart rate speeds up as you feel the subtle creeping of heat tickle your cheeks.

Nobara is quick with her response, not letting a single thing slip past her.

“Stalked?” She murmured. “By who? I know there’s a lot of sick fucks out there, but damn.”

“I’m not sure to be honest. Whoever he is, he isn’t stupid. Any time I go out of my house I feel him.”

“Feel him? Babe what-“

“He’s never gotten physical with me! Partially because I think he’s either scared o-or maybe just trying to scare me. I haven’t figured which one yet.”

Thick, uncomfortable silence fills the air. Almost as if “he” could be summoned by a mere whisper of his existence. You can’t be scared. How could you lie to Nobara and tell her you were startled by this person when there was a pool of arousal forming in your panties. It was a sick world you lived in and you were sicker so.

For hours the two of you spoke about your unidentified stalker. You delve into the details of every wispy stray hair you’d see from the corner of your eyes, how his mere presence made you believe whoever he was it was undoubtedly certain strength lies within him. The conversation drew on so long the sun sank and the moon had now rose to show herself.

The cushion your body has been residing on felt as though it melded to be one with your body; signaling your time to leave.

“Y/n I’m not sure you should go home. Wouldn’t you feel safer staying here? I know everything is packed up but at least you would have another person with you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I’ve never been attacked anyway Nobara, i’m sure i’ll be fine going home tonight.”

With that you were sent on your way, multiple opportunities to stay with Nobara were presented and you shot every single one down. Why? Maybe because it intrigued you to think of your stalker finally showing himself to you. You enjoyed the idea of someone caring so much about you that they’d go out of their way to STALK you.

Cool, crisp night air fills your lungs with every shallow breath you take. From behind you footsteps easily mimicked your own. Any other normal person wouldn’t have been able to recognize the sound, but you’d grown to expect the sound. In fact…you craved to hear those perfectly synchronized steps.

The entirety of your walk home, his footsteps echoed behind you. Stuttering heartbeats pounding so hard your ribs hurt. Terror ran rapid throughout your body and eventually morphed into excitement.

Finally reaching your door, you paused for a moment. “Are you still there?” Your small voice was shaky; unsure of what answer you preferred more. The world seems to go quiet around you. Unfortunately there was no sound behind you. No breathing, no steps, no ruffling of clothes, just the breeze blowing past your hair.

AUTHORS NOTE:

so ik this is random but like i’ve got fragments floating in my head and this is one of them

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

@achaotichuman !!! I HAD TO 😭

Nyxlin oneshot

Tamlin's knuckles whited on the tabletop from the effort of restraint. His heart was beating an erratic rhythm in his chest. A cool hand settled at the nape of his neck, lightly squeezing.  

Ignore my father, beloved. You know he says these things to upset you. 

The words echoed in his mind, ringing with the force of Nyx's irritation. Any Daemati present would surely hear the words as plainly as if they'd spoken them themselves. Even as his pale blue eyes held his gaze, Nyx's words continued to bounce around in Tamlin's mind, loud and bold.

Tamlin turned his head slightly, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. He drew his mate's hand from his neck and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Nyx's wrist.

I know. But I can't help wanting to jump across the table to wring his neck nonetheless.

Nyx's laughter rippled down the bond, and his neat, pointed fangs poked at his plush lower lip. He turned his hand, curling it over Tamlin's jaw and stroking lightly.

Well. Some things just can't be helped, can they? Please try to keep from killing my father, though. I would like him there.

A loud, dramatic, mental sigh. If I must, my love.

Someone cleared their throat from across the table.

Rhysand looked faintly ill.

"That's enough, Nyx. You've made your point," Feyre said coolly.

Nyx turned his gaze to his mother with a smile, "Of course, mother. I apologise." he pulled his hand back, settling it instead on Tamlin's thigh.

A muscle twitched in Feyre's eye as she tracked the movement from underneath the glass tabletop, but she continued after a long, suffering breath.

"Now. We have been unable to resolve this issue for quite some time now. I have called this meeting to talk things over, speak our perspectives and make our case, as it were. We're running out of time, as I'm sure you're aware, so I would like to resolve this issue today. Yes?"

"Yes, mother."

Tamlin curled his lip, but inclined his head, "Your point is well made, High Lady. But I'm afraid that I have argued my case one too many times. It is your High Lord who refuses to co-operate." 

"That was the purpose of this meeting," she looked over to her mate, smiling tightly, "Perhaps we can come to a compromise. Rhys?"

The High Lord of Night glowered, his eyes flicking from his son's stone cold expression, to Tamlin's petulant scowl. Feyre cleared her throat pointedly and a moment passed in a silent exchange. Rhys sighed at last.

"... I suppose it would not matter if the napkins were pale pink."

"Wonderful!" Feyre said brightly, quickly, not giving Rhys the chance to reconsider. Her pen scrawled across the paper in a blur.

"Now, the guest list. If we are to host the ceremony, we will need to cull some guests from your side, Tamlin."

Tamlin leaned forward, a frown deepening on his face, "The ceremony will be held in Spring."

Rhys slammed his hands on the table top, "Over my dead body!" he snarled.

"Gladly!" Tamlin responded, his chair toppling over as he surged upwards.

Nyx smothered his grin, leaning backwards in his chair as his mother rubbed her temple wearily. At this rate, the wedding would never happen, but he didn't mind. So long as his mate didn't kill his father and vice versa.

original big brained post here:

https://www.tumblr.com/achaotichuman/773277588914372608/oh-my-god-please-i-would-die-bonus-points-if?source=share

[junopersonified]

Can I request an Ian Malcolm fic where like he’s your college professor and you aren’t quite understanding and you go in for a “tutoring” session (hint hint wink wink)

Teacher’s Pet - Ian Malcolm

Includes: Professor!Ian, Ditsy!Reader, Balls Deep in the Library, Creampie, Very Short and Like No Dialogue.

He’s rattling an explanation about an equation in your ear, you can feel his shaven cheeks rub against your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder. But your brain is too hazy to even have a remote clue on what he’s saying, his fingers tracing hearts over your lower abdomen.

To anyone walking by your booth, tucked away in the furthest and darkest corner of the library, it looks like an overly saccharine scene; a boyfriend tutoring his girlfriend as she perches on his lap.

But that is in fact not the case, you’re trying to stifle your breathy moans, trying to cover up the way your body shudders as Ian’s hips lift up as he adjusts his trouser, his balls slapping against your puffy clit as he’s deep inside of you.

Ian can feel his tip from outside your stomach, tucked away and continuously hitting that particular spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and eyes roll.

You’d been struggling with your mathematics degree since Ian had began teaching you a few weeks ago, but not because he was a poor teacher—in fact he was probably the most interactive and caring teacher at your college—it was because you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.

He was much younger than your other teacher (who apparently resigned, but who knows, they were bordering 100), which peeked the interest of some of your other female classmates, yet Ian only had eyes for you.

The brooding eyes that watched you as you highlighted notes with your fluffy pink pen, his plump lips that he kept tugged between his teeth at the sight of you running a hand through your hair in frustration at getting a question wrong, his velvety voice that made you squeeze your knees together to try and relieve your throbbing pussy.

All your girlfriends in the class agreed that Ian had a thing for you, that you were his teachers pet. Whenever you’d raise a hand to ask a simple question, he’d run up the stairs towards your seat and help you up-close.

But, in your last lecture, when you’d moved onto learning about Tophology, you had become a lost cause. No longer could you rely on your classmates help, nothing could make you understand it.

That’s when you worked up the courage to visit Ian during his office hours, and scheduled a one-on-one during the weekend in the library. And that’s when Ian had to resort to an ulterior way of teaching, burying himself deep inside your weepy pussy, right in the library.

His boxers and trousers were tucked underneath his balls, your skirt hiked up around your hips so nobody suspected a thing.

“You starting to get it, sweetheart?” Ian questioned when your head tilted backwards, your parted lips letting out a weak breath as his hips repetitively shifted upwards.

You nodded slowly, tilting your head so you were staring into each others eyes. His lips were tugged upwards into a loose grin, his forehead beginning to sweat at the heat of both your bodies.

“You sure? My cock still not deep enough for you to malfunction, huh.” He leant forwards, reaching for your pink notepad to flip a page. With his chest flush against your back, it led to your chest inches away from smacking against the table.

Pushing down onto your thighs with his forearm, hand reaching to rub your clit over your lace panties, lazily pushed to the side to allow him to slip his length inside. You had began to spasm around his dick, unable to decipher his crude words.

“I so get it now…” you squeaked as Ian met unexplorable depths inside of you, his hold around you opposing his upwards thrusts.

You began to come in short bursts of ecstacy, knees knocking together as your whole body shuddered, stimulating Ian’s heavy balls that tightened when your fingers interlocked with his on your thighs.

Groaning deeply, somehow unaware of the other students in the library, Ian came inside you. A familiar heat pooled inside you as Ian pecked your cheek, causing you to smile lazily and reach for his mouth with your lips.

“Think we best schedule another lesson tomorrow, there’s no way you understood anything, baby.” Ian chuckled, tugging your skirt down, softening inside your pulsing walls.

[sennenpharaoh]

"...!!!"

There was an audible hissing gasp from Atem, which caused him to almost lose his breath. For a few seconds it was like his breath was caught in his throat, he could barely speak or even make a sound. Eventually... only one word came out, at first.

"You..."

It was low, quiet, and shaky. Of course he felt that squeeze to his hand; he knew full well what Roy was trying to say to him with that gesture. He wanted Atem to look him in the eyes, as of course that was where Atem was most honest.

"You didn't just..." His voice was shakier, growing weaker as he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"When Joey died... I thought I'd never hear that vow ever spoken to me. When Mana and I split up, I told myself that I didn't want to hear that vow ever again, because I didn't want them to be broken again. Because of that I just... gave up. If I can't see my Beloved walk down the aisle, and the one time I do those vows get broken... why should I deserve to want to hear them again?!"

Slowly... and surely... he would, revealing a terrified face, eyes filled with tears that could fall at any moment.

"I have been... so... scared of hearing them one more time because I know what it would mean. That I would have to go through that uncertainty all over again. What if I lose you before we say those vows? What if those vows get broken yet again? And then you say that and... w-what do you want me to think?!" He grasped Roy's hand with both hands and looked right into Roy's eyes, as he wanted.

"I'm only going to say this once. I take those vows seriously, very seriously. And I do not want my heart broken yet again. I'm giving you one... last chance. Please... think, don't feel. Think. Nothing will make me happier than to finally say those vows one day and have them mean something. I want that more than anything. If this is what you truly want, to have... and to hold me... for richer..." He felt himself getting worked up as he couldn't stop the tears from falling down. But still he pressed on, a certain Healer's words helping him push through them. "... or for poorer... for better... or for worse... in sickness... and in health... 'till Death claims us both... then..." He paused, a few hitched breaths leaving him before he pushed on, looking right into Roy's eyes.

"Then you say it properly! My full name. Atem... Bin... Aknamkanon... If you're going to ask me that question, if you really want to have me as your future husband, then say my full name!"

He listened to his words, waiting till he asked the question, of course he's thought about it. He doesn't just make decisions like this. He's never considered marrying someone before. He was scared at the thought of hurting someone he loved with his blood stained hands.

"Atem, I don't think you understand." He squeezes his hand. "We both have been through a lot in our time, and its obvious we feel like we don't deserve to be happy because of the pain we've caused people we've cared about. Yet, those people we love are still with us, still loving us and wanting to be near us. Do you ever think they would want us to be happy? I can say I never thought I deserved to be happy, but yet... here I am happy when I am with you. I had so much self hatred for myself and what I've done that I never let myself be happy with another person, but when I met you, I wanted to be happy, I wanted to enjoy every moment with you that I could." He admits softly.

"The guilt you feel still is understandable. I always feel it deep down, it never truly goes away, even if I wish it did. I really never thought I'd be able to think of marriage because I thought that was unreachable for a man like me." He swallows softly, squashing down the nervousness he felt.

"That was till I met you and you showed me differently, you showed me I was able to love and be loved by someone, no matter what flaws and choices I had to make in the past." He looks at him softly, but seriously.

"I've thought long and hard with my decision. I know what you've done, and I still accept you, flaws and all. No matter what you have done in your past and what we have went through when things happened between us, we worked it out and moved on from it. I still choose this, I still choose you, I want you. All of you. Some days will be tougher than others, but we're going to get through those days together."

He can understand why he was hesitant in all of this, because he felt like he didn't deserve it. Well, Roy is here to assure him that he does deserve it.

"I could say the same, do you really want someone like me after all that I've done? You kept telling me that these blood stained hands deserve to hold the man I love. What's the difference? You deserve this just as much as I do. I want to be with you, through sickness and health, till death do us part. I want that with you, Atem. I love you. I love you, Atem. So much." He squeezes his hand again, this time hoping he'd look at him in the eyes.

"I've thought long and hard, Atem. I want to marry you. There's nobody else I wish to marry."

[p1nk1yypiee]

see you again Hyunjun player 120

moon!hyun-ju player 120 x sun!reader player 389 moonxsun friends to lovers vilalargo reader fluff a bit of smut at the end NOT PROOF READ IM SORRY IF I SAY HE INSTEAD OF SHE BY ACCIDENT

squid game au

you woke up in a new place seeing people die left to right was sickening but there was one thing making this hellhole a bit better her beauty was unmatched just seeing her made you feel like you were on cloud 9 and how she spoke to you make you weak in the knees and you know one of these days you have to confess but you feel like she doesn’t like you back and maybe just sees you as a friend only because your both different to other people and you both have trouble in public with people due to your skin condition and her transition it’s the 3th game mingle and just seeing all of the blood makes you sick “ are you ok Y/N” hyun ju asks with worry in her voice and grabs your hand “ yes i’m fine it’s just the blood these games there sick “ you say as you squeeze her hand “ it’s ok we’ll get through this “ she says as the floor stops and you to hear a voice “ 3 players “ hyun ju holds your hand tighter and grabs young mi’s hand running into a pink room locking the door behind her she lets out a sigh of relief you hear gun shots go off you put your hands over your ears to try to block the noise out hyun ju sees your trembling body and she walks up to you and hugs you close to her chest you take in her smell she still kinda smelt like a peach mango body wash and also sweat and a bit of blood when she let go it was the last round and we had to leave the room young mi walks infront of us as we all get the the floor we hear the sickly sweet voices of children singing then the floor stops and we hear the voice “ one player” your heart dropped but you all run to room that were next to each other but someone was in the one you went to so you started to run around to get a room you let the rush flow through your body you found one just in time when the clock hit 1 you push into a room it locks behind you you hear gun shots going off you held your ear trying to calm yourself down then you hear the door unlock and you walk out to only see hyun ju you look around for young mi but you see she’s no where in sight then you start to tear up know she died when she was so young and and full of joy you ran to hyun ju trapping her in your arms she was stunned for a moment then she hugged you sobbing you let go grabbing her hand back to the sleep area her tears still streaming down her cheeks you see your team in the corner where you all sleep you both walk other there you see 007 and he’s mother searching for you both when she spots you she speed walk towards you both then she has a confused look on her face “ where’s young mi?” she says looking around hyun ju puts her head down and you look at the older woman and you tear up “ we’re so sorry she tried to save her but it was to late “ you say choking on your words you see the old woman’s face fall as she tears up to as she walks up to you to she opens her arms to inbrase you both you and hyun ju accept the hug by rapping your arms around her 007 runs up to us and joins in the hug

time skip because my hands are starting to hurt

it’s 3 minutes till lights out and you see hyun ju in her bed look off into space you walk up to her you walk up the stairs to her bed “ you ok “ you say as you put your hand on hers she looks at you “ yea im ok “ she says lowly as she looks away from your gaze and looks down at her thighs there’s a silence but like a comfort silence as soon as the lights go out you look at her and brush back a bit of her bangs behind her ear “ i’ll leave you alone if you need me just come get me “ you say as you were about to go back down the stairs “ wait “ she called out you turn around to look at her “ stay..please “ she says almost begging “ of course “ you say as you walk up to her and sit on her bed you held her hand for comfort “ unnie “ you called out to her she looks up at you “ yes?” she says “ can i tell you something “ you say as you feel heat rise in your cheeks “ yes of course what’s up “ she says rubbing circles on your different color hand “ i’ve wanted to tell you this for a while ever since we started this game actually i know you probably see me as only a friend i but see you as more you see me for me not how my skin looks or how my body looks you see me for me and ive loved you ever since i saw you and i know ive only known you for a few days but you make me feel like i can be my self around you and i-“ you were interrupted by her smashing her lips on yours pulling you into a passionate kiss after a bit then you both pull away a string of you of your salivas mixed together keeping you both together then she kissed you again but this time more aggressive and needy then you feel her coldish warm fingers make there way up your shirt then to your bra and squeezing the flesh on your chest you moan a bit into the kiss then she pulls away and takes off your shirt heavy breathing then she un clips your bra not caring who still up all she cares about is your pleasure as she takes off your bra seeing your bare breast she’s in awe “ your more beautiful then i imagined i love your skin it just make you more attractive to me “ she says as she takes one into her mouth sucking and nipping at the hard bud as she takes your other in her hand needing it as you moan out a bit making sure your not to loud then you hear someone clean there throat and you see 007 and you both look at him embarrassed “ i thought something was happening other here sorry i interrupted ill go “ he said blushing like crazy then he walks back to he’s bed “ so much for being quiet “ you say with a dry laugh “ yea but let’s get some sleep we’ll finish tomorrow and make sure everyone is sleeping “ she’s says with a smile “ yea we should “ you say as you grab your shirt and put it back on then you lay down her arm draped over your body under the sheets “ does this mean we’re together “ you say look at the other beds “ yes we are my love “ she says as she kisses your cheek” good night hyun ju “ you say with a smile “ good night my dear “ she says you close your eyes letting sleep take over dreaming about how it will be when you and hyun ju get out of that shit show.

CUTE RIGHT YEA BUT SMUT COMING CHAT I PROMISE BYE BYEE

[a-dreamersjournal]

Maybe in another life, I tended to my wounds so they wouldn’t fester.

Maybe in another life, I let go of my grief instead of allowing it to take root in my bones.

Maybe in another life, I was allowed to mourn my innocence and accept my guilt.

Maybe in another life. Anywhere but here. Anyone but me.

Because here, life moves too fast, days are too short, winters are here, and I have projects to finish and assignments to do.

So, I wish—that in another life—I can be more of myself. More of a Human.

[screampied]

Hitting it raw for the first time with JJK men?

‘ DON’T BE SHY, HIT IT RAW ! ★

starring ꒱ gojo, sukuna, toji, choso, nanami !?

@ WARNINGS : fem! reader, unprotected, brēeding kink, size kink, praise, manhandling, mating press, dōggystyle, prone bone, hair pulling, degradation, spit, biting, pússy drunk men, 18+

CHOSO ✰ KAMO.

“r…raw?” he inhales, staring at you with a cute quivering lip. you looked so pretty underneath him, sprawled all out and gazing right back into his eyes. you’d just got done playing with yourself in front of him, showing him just how easy it was to make you wet.

truthfully, choso’s had little to no experience— he gulps, wrapping a broad hand around his length before moving it towards your slick entrance. “like without the little rubber thing?”

you giggle, watching as his sculpted abs tense all up. he feels so hot, burning up. the entirety of his body shudders with a scorching breeze that runs against his skin.

“yes, baby. ‘s okay. i want you to,” and oh your voice, he could have came from just the sound of your sweet voice alone. doughy soft tips of his fingers brush against the skin that sticks against his dick like glue, a few simple strokes and he whines. “get a little closer, you remember missionary, right?”

“yeah,” he intakes a hollowing breath. by now, he’s hovering on top of you with his leaky tip fluttering against your sloppy slit. you merely slip off a moan yourself, syrupy liquid coating against his cockhead with such ease. “the position where i hold your hand ‘n stare into your eyes?” as you nod, he moans once he feels the way your dripping cunt starts to gradually devour the head of his dick in such a indecent way. “o-ohhh, okay.”

biting his lip, he starts to slowly sink his way in.

choso’s breath hitches from being engulfed with your sweet warmth. “y-you’re so warm inside,” he stammers, throwing his head back in utmost pleasure. choso’s so cute—a chastened grin purses against his lips, just a few solid inches in and he was already pussydrunk. “princess, ‘m not gonna last,” he furrows his brows, grabbing one of your hands, squeezing it tightly. “not gonna last when you’re s-so wet, i- i feel hot, oh.”

“don’t say that,” you tease, rubbing your ankle against his back. any kinds of touch from you made his heart race.

choso was firmly still—he’s been intimate with you plenty of times but never raw. this was an entire new feeling, he could just feel the lewd texture of your gummy walls grip around him securely. “you’re doing great, baby. just fuck me, like you always do.”

“i can fuck you, i … i can fuck you,” he’s chanting to himself cutely, trembling on each individual word.

a barrier, as he’s going inside raw— it feels like a barrier that’s shoved directly between your pussy and his cock. as choso’s hooded eyes start to get heavy, it doesn’t take long for him to start up a vicious pace.

languidly,

he feels the intensity of it all. the searing friction being created against both mounds. choso’s thrusts became more rapid by the second and your mouth pries open ever so slightly..

“oh m-my,” he hiccups, his grip between your fingers getting tighter. he loves holding your hand, especially whenever you were underneath him. choso’s voice was so adorable— every few seconds it croaks or cracks, it feels so tactile. the touch, the way your cunt takes every inch of him, he’s so big that the stretch was simply immaculate. choso presses his body against your chest, he’s leaning before he gently sinks his canines into your neck. “gonna c-cum already, hold me baby,” and then he swallows, a short gasp following out of his glossed-spit lips. “i… i mean, can i cum inside? never stuffed you full before.”

“go ‘head, baby,” you whisper, and he cutely whines once you run a soft finger down his brief undercut. whenever you called him baby, he could feel himself melting right into you—you feel choso move his glossed lips towards you, pulling you into a deep, sensual kiss. it was passionate, warm breaths violently crashing into each other at such a quick pace that he feels the strain rise up in his lungs.

your pretty cunt’s holding him hostage— choso’s slowly thrusting into you before right when he’s about to cum, he’s whimpering into your mouth. “it’s okay, ‘cho. it’s okay, you can do it,” and you cup his face, watching his darkened eyebrows furrow. his face softens at your sweet reassurance before he feels the incoming wave brew up within him. “you wanna be my messy boy, huh?”

he shamelessly nods. “so b-bad,” and his words were trembling upon each syllable. once he shoots into you, dumping you with a sweltering hot load of cum, his mind goes blank. you’ve never felt more stuffed—so packed up. his dick now flaccid—choso whines into your neck. the mucilaginous strings of cum that spurt into you was so filthy. squelches that reverberated against your cunt, just the quiet sound of it makes his mouth salivate.

he wants more, he wants you.

“feels so good,” he pants, lying on top of your chest— he grows quiet, hearing the sloshes of your cunt get stuffed with more parching ropes and ropes of cum. it feels tenderly, it shoots deep into your womb and your arms throw around his shoulders. choso’s sweating profusely, he feels like each pant that leaves his lips was gonna be his last. you smile, kissing the bridge of his nose where he scar lays before he slowly pulls out. gluey strings of cum depart from your hole and he can’t help but run a thumb against it. “i— oh my god,” he sniffles, and his voice was a bit more pitched. “are— are you okay? did i do okay?”

you kiss the side of his mouth and he moans, staring as your tummy was all swollen after being filled to it’s very peak. “i’m okay, you did amazing baby,” and he snuggles up against you. his head hitting against your chest, his personal favorite pillow. with a relaxing sigh, you strum your fingers through his ponytails before speaking in a soft voice, giving him a head pat. “always such a good boy for me, choso.”

“thank you,” he snivels, and you don’t expect for him to get back up again. his eyes—they’re more feral now, beads of sweat running down his brow before he pouts. “not done though. can- can we fuck raw again? pretty please, ‘m not done being messy for you.”

NANAMI ✰ KENTO.

“take it off, ‘kennnn,” you mewl out a desperate whine, pawing clammy hands at your husband’s halfway exposed chest.

he had barely just made it back from work, needing someway to rewind from his usual respective nine-to-five and you offered. an offer that was located nowhere other than between your legs, though he never complained. your cunt was easily the best way to unwind from a long day. with his work clothes still on, pants halfway down, drooping toward his knees, he hums.

you had him amused, his boxers were halfway down—cock sprung out and he swallows, stroking the rubbery condom that’s sheathing over his erect length. “wanna feel you from the inside, please.”

he gruffly chuckles, body jolting briefly in response he laughs. whilst he had you promptly sat on his lap, you were so close up to him— his heat purely radiates against yours, making the feelings of his touch ten times more sensitive. “you’re in a playful mood today, huh. no condom, my love? and why is it that you want to ‘feel me from the inside’, hmm?”

with exasperated breaths, you’re just so close to him stuffing you full. your soaking entrance rubs against his tip—so leaky, your mouth merely starts to water at just envisioning him flooding your pussy up with so much of his ropy cum. “i jus’ wan’ it,” you whine, and he titters once you take measures into your own hands—tugging the loosely fit rubber before his cock was finally out in the open. “wanna be your cum dump, kento.”

“cum … dump?” he repeats, scratching the basal part of his pointed chin. nanami smirks, a big hand giving your ass a gentle yet firm squeeze. he’s so tender, caressing the sides of your rear before giving it a brief spank. nanami was always sweet, you liked whenever he’d take a little more control at times. “that really what you want? to be my ah, cum dump?”

you tell him yes and that’s all he really needs to hear from you.

you’re scrupulously rocking your hips against nanami, sucking your teeth at the hot feeling pooling inside of you. the grip, oh the grip—you feel dizzy, without the condom felt like a whole new world. nanami groans, leaning back against the headboard whilst he’s letting you ride, take the wheel on his lap if you will. “mhm. loosen up for me, love,” he’d grunt, blond strands of his running down the sides of his face. it’s cute, the way his usual perfect hair was now all ruffled and feral. “fuck me jus’ like that, ride me good, okay?”

moan after moan drags past your lips, flimsy arms throw around his stiff shoulders before the stretch had you gasp. the stretch—so elastic.

his cock vigorously pummels in and out with such girth making your cunt profusely spasm.

facing directly in front of him, you probably looked a mess—abashed facial expressions tugging against your features, mouth dangled all open, you were a sight. yet, you didn’t care—you cared about being filled to the brim. you craved it like you crave a succulent pastry. as your hips rotate and rock in collision, he’s got both hands on your waist, slamming you down further and further. you’re whining, feeling the tip of his dick reach deep—each time it delves into you, it smothers your g-spot with various french-tip kisses. your eyes roll back, feeling his honey-dew eyes take in your pretty jerking hips every and single second. “oh, look at that face right when she’s gettin’ ready to make a mess,” and his voice was a deep whisper, he brings you towards his neck, chuckling once you sniff him. “feel it too, darlin’? wanna be my good little wife ‘n finish with me, hm?”

“y—yes, please ‘ken, hngh,” you whine, feeling the sharp edges of your teeth shatter against each other. his thick cock punctures something deep within your walls, causing you to spasm all over him. “wanna cum with you, please pleaseee.”

he sneaks a kiss against your lips, it’s wet and it’s got you hungry for more. nanami never fails to coat you with a few of his tenderized kisses. it his thing, soft padded lips that press against your skin always had you weak in the knees. speaking of knees, your own knees start to buckle as you’re rotating your hips against his. “messy girl, go ‘head then. i wanna see just how messy my pretty baby can get.”

nanami’s voice was so soothing, all up against your ear. alluring pheromones surge all through you as you’re taking every inch of his cock. every few seconds your stomach seizes, a repetitive motion that has your toes curling up in utter temptation. “cum, ‘m gonna cum ‘ken, cumming, nghh.” the positioning couldn’t have been more perfect. rough hands of his squash against your derrière before your breath literally gets snatched away. with your jaw dropping, you tense up, convulsing with his twitching dick inside of you. compressing against his length, you clench down on your maw before whining out a sweetened sob. “inside, shoot inside ‘ken. don’t miss.”

“i’ll never miss if it’s with you, sweetheart,” he whispers— the gravel in his voice turning a bit shaky.

fat full balls of potential seed thwack and thwack against your skin, with the ricochet of skin slapping, it rings throughout your ears—having your mind going stupid.

with a grunt, he clings onto your swiveling torso tightly, a hefty arm wrapping around you. so close, he’s so deep inside that the tip of his cockhead reaches the most secretive depths stored inside your cunt. “mhm. ‘s gonna get a little messy, hold onto me, my sweet.”

GOJO ✰ SATORU.

gojo’s got a sheepish simper, having you bent over for him in such a way has his heart pounding. he heard the individual beats pulse through his ears before he inhales. “raw.. raw as in you want the real thing? heh, can ya even handle me raw?”

“shut up,” you whine, your ass wriggling in response against his length—he was just as aroused as you, he gives your ass a long stare before huffing out a breath. “jus’ fuck me, ‘toru.”

“well excuseee me,” he replies back, aligning himself against your saturated folds. so pretty, the way your pussy was even warmer from the inside, so moist. he feels his breath start to shake before he thrashes his tip against your outer entrance. “ooh, s-so much tighter than i thought.” and he grows quiet once your pussy starts to accept him inside. slowly, you’re swallowing every inch that he provides—gojo moans, the tight clamp that your gummy walls give him merely makes him fold. the sensation was almost too much to bare. pap pap pap, the sounds your cunt make in retaliation only made him more feral.

gojo’s panting, your cunt’s got him in a tight grasping chokehold that he knows he can’t get out of— it’s simply spontaneous.

“fuck, you’re so h-hot,” he sighs, you let off a soft mewl, feeling him bring a palm towards your right ass cheek to spank it, gripping it toughly and you bite your lip. even though you couldn’t directly see his expression—you just imagined gojo would be as pretty as he’s always been. messy, ruffled hair, panting, muscles tightening and flexing. even that thing he does whenever he’s bottoming out inside of you. where his eyebrows furrow all up and his face becomes utterly flustered.

so cute.

after a few sloppy hits against your heat, it doesn’t take much to make him into a pure, whiney mess. he’s just babbling whilst you’re on all fours for him, so tense—his muscles ache for more of you. gojo starts to feel the tip of his tongue salivate with little droplets of his own syrupy saliva. oh, it was just the way your pussy effortlessly wraps around him like a vice. he grunts in a hoarse tone, witnessing how your hips just ferociously grind and hit back against him so good to where his head’s spinning.

as he accelerates his hips, gojo’s so needy—he can’t help but grab your waist with calloused fingers, driving his fat cock into you at a more swift speed. he’s so big, so fucking big. filling you full of girthy inches each time, you’re moaning repeatedly, feeling how his hips start to stutter and his thighs ache already. he’s close.

the more he pants, the more raspy it becomes. gojo’s thumbs were practically piercing into both sides of your hips—indenting in them as he’s allowing the cockhead of his shaft to freely rummage all throughout your gripping walls. the feeling of being inside of you, raw, he found himself drooling. something about the way you clamp down against his base each time, feeling the slimy strings of pre-cum stick against your ass and his base each time you smack back onto him.

“f-fuuuck, ‘toru. right there, hngh. right there, fuck fuck.” you hiccup, and he’s feeling his breath start to hitch in due time. with his hands still grabbing onto your waist as he’s pounding you ruthlessly from behind, you moan. “ughhh, ‘toru, ‘m gonna cum. fuck don’t stop, please.” and as you speak to him in that sweet tone, he only gets harder. cerulean blue eyes of his stare down your back— your breathtaking spine, the way it had a few drops of excess sweat gliding down. he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why but that simple detail as he was drilling such amounts of dick into you—he found it adorable. “touch me more.” you whine, a sudden pitch in your tone. “slow, f-fuck me slower baby.”

“i- i amm,” he whimpers, his voice growing shorter and shorter. it was just something about fucking you from behind. it gave him a perfect excuse to stare at your ass, kiss it with the palm of his hand with rude mean spanks, getting hard from the recoil. speaking of hard though, gojo was quite hard, painfully so—you feel his hips snap into you at such a pace that it’s like he’s not human. each thrust, each deeper angle he creates with his hips has you going stupid. with how loud he’s whimpering—you can’t tell who’s louder, him or you. “fuck, ‘m really gonna cum inside, angel. oh fuck, ‘s the way you squeeze on me s-so good, don’t stop fuckin’ me back, please.”

he turns into a babbling mess, the stretch of his cock buries so deep into you—constricting freely around his length, he then lightly shoves your head against the pillow. “s-sorry, angel,” he swallows, tracing his fingertips against the edges of your ass. “ah, ‘m gonna have to give you all of me. ‘s gonna spill out but you’ll be a good girl ‘n keep it in for me, yeah?”

“yes, yes yess,” you whimper, and he then grabs onto your hair for leverage—he’s pumping you full of thick inches of dick, you stare at yourself in the reflection of a mirror and gojo still looks pretty. his pace was brutal, you could barely keep up and your legs felt like they were hanging onto the final hinges. “inside, ‘toru. don’t spill a d-drop.”

“take it then, t-take it for me,” he moans, and each time he hits against your ass with his own hips, you feel the swollenness of his balls brush up against your pussy. total breeder balls, you whine before it takes him a moment to finally cascade such stripes of cum right into your womb. “listen to that, f-fuck, sloppy pussy’s jus’ my favorite,” he pants, heaving out a single strained breath. gojo’s hips precipitously stop, and he’s just feeling himself spew such ropes—so warm, it’s sticky too. you feel the texture spurt into your cunt, giving you more than enough. with a hand still gripping onto your hair, he then brings a hand to gently wrap around your throat. “mhm, baby. we should— we should start thinkin’ of baby names by this point heh.”

you moan, feeling him slowly pull out— once he does, leftovers of his cum that plugged you full starts to seep out of your hole. he licks his lips, inserting a thumb inside before spreading your folds open up. “don’t stop, ‘toru. want more,” you sigh, arching your back up again for him. “give me twins.”

“fuck i’ll give you triplets,” he grunts, re-aligning his throbbing tip—he inhales deeply, still feeling sensitive before it swipes against your messy painted up entrance. as he’s close up to your ass, he runs a hand down your spine before getting up close to your ear. in a low, husky whisper, he replies. “keep up with me, angel. ‘m gonna be showin’ this pussy the new me all n-night.”

SUKUNA ✰ RYŌMEN.

“careful now, woman,” sukuna hisses, and he’s got you in a secure mating press—you moan, feeling his tip skim against your sopping pussy. his tone was a mere warning, red-shot eyes of a curse—in which he was, stares right into you as he holds back. “askin’ me to do somethin’ like that ‘s gonna end up with ya pregnant.”

with a pout, you sling your arms around him, smelling his intoxicating scent roam through your flared up nostrils. “don’t care,” you chastise, and he’s such a tease. grabbing ahold of his fat length, brushing his angry leaning cockhead against your entrance. he snickers against your neck, hot breath fanning against your collarbone. “finish in me, ‘kuna. wanna feel it s’bad,” and you didn’t even care how pathetic you sounded. desperate was the perfect word for you. it was always a dream to have the king of curses feed your sweet forlorn cunt with such delicious ropes of cum. you’ve only ever tasted his flavor, never exactly feeling it shoot inside,

such amounts of his sticky, stringy ropes pour into your womb—you craved it, you could care less of the consequences that would follow. as a single throb from the inside of your clit pulses you back to reality, you feel sukuna’s fangs teasingly bite into your neck. “m-mmph,” he suppresses his moans, an almost whimper being dragged out of his throat. your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, feeling his cock start to introduce its way into your welcoming, greedy walls. your moan rings through his ears, he’s so thick that you feel the head of his cock mold your cunt open, it’s so warm. so tight, a twinge within the undersides of your thighs sting for a moment before you start to succumb into the inevitable pleasure.

“ah ah, don’t shy away now,” he rasps—voice sounding almost hoarse like. once he makes haste with his hips, slam after slam against you, he grips your chin. with hollow cheeks scrunched all up, he sneaks a wet kiss onto your mouth, watching you moan for more affection—more of his sweetly sacred taste. “want me to go in raw?you better stare into my fuckin’ eyes while i claim this meaningless cunt,” and he’s so mean, his entire delivery has you pulsating. the curse’s eyes stare down your body before he starts to present you with jagged, thorough thrusts. with a hand still attached to you chin, he lowly cackles a “heheh,” leaning in to kiss you again. “needy baby. can’t go a second without a kiss,” and in the meanwhile, he’s viciously pounding into your wretched insides. an entire mess, it doesn’t take sukuna long for him to bottom out completely inside of you. “stick out that tongue.”

you’re too dumb to even comprehend anything. just the rhythm of his cock has you in shambles. it’s too good, you comply quickly before lolling out your pretty pink tongue. “such an obedient woman, look at that sloppy tongue, desperate for more of my taste,” he slyly says, and that’s when he leans forward to suck near the pointed tip of your tongue. you’re caught by surprise, expecting him to do something more erotic and filthy such as spitting on your tongue but he just … sucks on it. “always taste sweet for me.”

each time he smacks into you at full force, your ears pop. slow yet steady, this time he nibbles on your tongue—the inner edges of his fangs tickle before he wraps a hand around your throat. “fuck. gonna milk me,” and then he lightly taps against your cheek with his other hand. “is the dumb baby still with me? look at me, girl,” and with hooded eyes, you meet the curse’s gazed his hips were sharp, unlike anything you’ve ever felt. it’s tantalizingly slow, each time he pulls out he purposely shoves himself back in—causing your mewls to only pitch louder. “that’s it. scream. let everyone ‘n this palace know how much of a nasty girl you are for me. louder.”

your whines grow louder, with your ankles rubbing against his back you start to feel his pace come to a slow halt. “k-kuna,” you whimper, his tip smooching against your most sweetest spots again, and again, and again. he feels how warm you are from the inside. the grip was so lewd, his jaw tightens as his weight slams into you countless times until you’re in a looping trance. “inside, finish inside pleasepleaseplease.”

“kiss me first,” he snarls, and almost immediately do you pull him into a sloppy kiss. with breaths heaving, tongue’s tangling, you whine into his mouth as he’s stuffing your cunt full of staggering lengthy inches. he’s so deep that your stomach briefly caves in, the sharp tips of his fingernails tickle against your skin before his thrusts grow deeper. moaning into his mouth, your legs still wrap around his waist before within three more solid pumps, he cums.

sukuna groans into your mouth, hot breath pouring into your mouth as he swipes a tongue against your bottom lip—biting it afterwards. it shoots out so quick, lightening speed. he’s shaking, and since he’s a curse—it’s so much more that he gives you. a plethora of satiny ropes, it trickles into your womb to where it starts leaking out of your sweet hole once he pulls his cock out. “how nasty,” he phews, beefy muscles flexing as his arms stood near the sides of you. despite him heaving in and out, he doesn’t even look remotely tired—instead, sukuna gives you another kiss before you watch as he starts to flip you over. “not done. ‘m gonna have to clean it out of you with my tongue,” he growls, making you chest hit against the plump cushioney pillows. “bend over, princess. let me get a better taste from this angle.”

TOJI ✰ FUSHIGURO.

“yeah yeah, i got you,” he grumbles, cutting off your sentence before arching you all the way over. you gasp at how blunt he is, giving your ass a spank before dragging a fat thumb down your pre soaked cunt. “didn’t plan on wearin’ that shit anyway. they never fuckin’ fit, doll. thanks for the concern though, heh. i’ll be extra careful, promise.”

with toji’s size, condoms would break easily.

if they didn’t break, they were on the very verges of shattering into a zillion pieces. with two riotous hands, he spreads your ass before smacking his fat tip between your folds. “f-fuuuck me already,” you whine out, feeling the naturally provocative arch in your back only stretch further. even his tip, his angry pinkish tip that never fails to split the insides of your pussy open with just a few thrusts, he’s such a tease. chewing on your lip as if it was a substitute for gum, you moan once he leans his face down to slowly spit near your cracking entrance between the crevices of your rear. you shudder, feeling the coldness of his saliva run down your slick, smearing calloused fingertips beneath your dampening folds. “y-you’re so nasty, toji.”

“girl i’ve been called worst but okay,” he gruffs, swiping a tongue against the scar near his lips. despite how you weren’t even facing him, you could just tell he gave you the most sassiest eye roll imaginable. as you’re on all fours, he makes the right side of your cheek hit against the cushioned comforter. “ya sure you wan’ me ‘ta go in raw? ‘m all for it but this ain’t y’er pussy talkin’ instead of that little brain of yours, is it?”

you nod, desperate for him to resume—and he does, but once toji fucks, he fucks mean.

toji fucks like he hates you—of course he doesn’t, but with hips of his, he wasn’t fooling anyone.

just seconds of taking backshots from him and you’re already drooling, the back in your arch couldn’t have been any more slutty. “fuck,” he groans, feeling his dick stretch—extending throughout the gummy areas of your pussy. he reached everywhere, you’re clinging onto the bed before you cutely make an attempt to crawl forward. “oh. where d’ya think y’er goin’?” he groans, giving your ass a spank. you gasp, feeling him drill his thick cock into you so precisely as if his occupation was a construction worker. the only thing he was hammering was your cunt though. with a hand snaking its way into your hair, he gives it a firm tug to make your ass plop back against him. “nah get the fuck back here. no runnin’ today baby. still got a lot more ‘ta give.”

he’s so stuffed into you that you feel your cunt gape around him, your jaw idly dangles open as he’s got your hair in a tight grip. “f-fuuuck, ‘s so big. stretchin’ me, toji, hngh,” and your sweet moans were melodic—simply music to his ears. you felt the pulse from his cock that was buried into you—fat swollen balls of his contour to kiss up against your bare ass, the sounds so loud it sounds like smacks. “a-ah ah ah,” you’d repeat, barely able to keep up with his relentless pace. “gonna cum, ‘toj. gonna c-cum, oh my goddd.”

“oh my goddd, i’m gonna cum too,” he mimics your whine—and by now, his entire body is pushed up against your ass. with a sly piston of his hips, he’s got you right where he wants you. toji chuckles against your ear, choking you with just a tiny amount of pressure before he hums. “you like bein’ fucked raw, don’t’cha? you feel me deep ‘n y’er womb, gorgeous?”

you nod again, your cunt just continues to mend and form around his length sloppily. heavy breaths tear out of your filled up lungs before he bends you way back against the bed. “y-yes, please. cum in me toji, want you to shoot in me, f-fuck please.”

he’s got a firm grip on your hair, yanking it back as he’s jackhammering his thick cock — you feel the jagged edges around him piercing through your insides and he’s just so fucking big.

you whine, sloshes of your own honeyed slick coating toji so well from the very base down. a pretty white ring, “yeah, c’mon. cum with me babygirl, cum on this dick,” and he growls darkly, the incoming build up coursing through his veins. a raw hoarse emits from the back of your throat before you’re cumming. it takes so much out of you, his tip ruthlessly mashing against your g-spot so good. your eyes are ogling, drool seeping from the corners of your lips before he ends up finishing too. never inside, but now—he’s shot a thick load into you raw. it was simply appetizing, toji slows his jerking hips down and he grows quiet. he’s pouring into your cunt with strings of hot balmy cum. with how quickly it is to fill you up, you feel how it just stuffs you to the brim.

that same white translucent ring coats around his fat base and a rough hand of his grips onto your waist. “take it all, fuck,” and you continue to clamp around his dick. it’s so much that it starts to ooze out of your folds, velvety pretty ropes of cum paint the crevices of your thighs—running down your folds and it’s got you so dizzy. his balls that plugged you full remain inside of your sopping cunt, slowing his thrusts down completely before momentarily taking his dick out. “got myself a nasty little bitch, milkin’ me like that,” he gruffs out, smearing a thumb down your now swollen clit. you’re panting, feeling a throbbing sensation pool into your abdomen before he flips you over. “where’s my thank you, doll?”

“t-thank you, toji,” you mewl out, feeling him position himself between your legs now—you’re laid on your back, gasping for air before he cups your chin. with dark coy eyes, he rubs a thumb against your lip. “thank you for finishing in me.”

“y’er welcome, sugar,” he groans, realigning himself against your saturated folds—so soaked, there were still many remnants of hot stringy semen that stuck against your entrance. he pauses, feeling your legs lock around his slim waist before he pauses. with a husky voice, toji plants a single kiss against your lips. “heh. ya are on the pill though, right?”

“…….”

[typhoonvash]

"Hmm-hmm, I could gawk harder if you'd like," Vash hums, noticing the way Wolfwood seemingly doesn't want to talk about something so sensitive and delicate as his heart. They don't need to talk about it right now—honestly, all Vash wants to talk about is Wolfwood. He wants to hear about his years awake, the sights he's seen, the people he's met.

He supposes that, now that he's thinking about it, he wants to know what Wolfwood thinks of this world that they both had a part in saving. The future of humanity is here and bustling, and the world is ever-changing. Before Vash slept, he heard that the next big project would be an ocean. With water and life and maybe even an island or two...

... However, Wolfwood definitely won't like the answer to his inquiry. Vash hides a tense frown by dipping his head beneath the water one more time and allowing both of them to scrub at his full head of inky hair. Once again, it's not nearly enough time to think of a softer way to answer his question, and it's definitely not worth his time to sugarcoat it while speaking to the man who can see through his bullshit the most.

Vash takes in a deep breath after he finishes rinsing, then turns on his knees to face Wolfwood in all of his glistening glory. He can't help but run his greedy hand to cup the man's jaw, slide down his neck, shift over his heart, and he finishes by, of course, gently squeezing that left pec fondly. Yep, despite the internal changes, he's still the same Wolfwood. Vash's fingers slowly comb through the hair on his chest as if lost in a warm memory.

Still thinking, the Independent leans forward to give Wolfwood a soft, tender kiss—so unlike the one in the cave that had been full of tears and fear and depravity... This one is calm, quiet as he gently takes the ex-priest's bottom lip between both of his. Vash separates from him, though he doesn't want to, then searches Wolfwood's gaze as if reading a book, chuckling quietly to himself as he slumps onto his hip at the bottom of the tub and finally rests his head on the man's collarbone, lips to his neck with more soft kisses.

"Yeah, uh," the timeless Plant sighs, sounding nothing but concerned as he continues, "After... Meryl and Milly passed, I had enough of the bounty hunters, so I turned myself in. Earth and Gunsmoke fought over who got to dole out my punishment, but it was eventually decided that they... both would?"

He slides further down into the soapy water, gripping Wolfwood's thigh to keep himself stable. His mouth is nearly fully submerged, but he, after a heavy pause, lifts his chin up to continue.

"It took the Earth colonists a while, but they made sure I couldn't ever communicate or rejoin with my sisters again. They had enough Independents and Plant engineers to keep Gunsmoke running, so there was no need for me to have that ability anyway. Then they... made sure that when I enter my own Last Run, it won't cause 'catastrophic damage'—their words."

Now comes the part that Wolfwood really wouldn't like to hear... maybe he can just... temper it a little, avoid giving great detail...

"That took twenty years, I think. I dunno, it was all kind of a blur," Vash dips partially underwater again and sighs bubbles to the surface. "Gunsmoke, um... Well they didn't really have laws regarding capital punishment for Plants. They wanted to kill me at first, for all of the... the disasters that I..."

He swallows a hiccup, willing himself not to cry—never to cry. Not about himself, not when Wolfwood is here and he doesn't need anything else...

"They locked me up someplace secure and gave me a life sentence in solitary confinement."

“...Yeah.” 

He doesn’t like admitting the fact out loud. He doesn’t like thinking about it to begin with, but with Vash that is unavoidable one way or another. Despite steadily beating behind his sternum for four years now, Nicholas still has not come around to thinking of the heart in his chest as his. Other than a few…hiccups…here and there, it’s served him well. Kept him going. That’s as much as anyone can ask for, given how far and how hard he pushed the limits of his body.

A new heart, a product of a new century, placed in the chest cavity of a man who should have died over a hundred years ago. Ironically, it’s the only part of him that fucking belongs here. 

“Thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Wolfwood responds wryly. Leave it to Vash to leave an impossibly well-timed comment...probably without even being aware of it. Out of place, not out of time. He can’t further pursue the darkening line of thought even if he tried. Not with Vash watching him so intently. Not with those eyes, mercurial, shifting somewhere between bottle glass blue and nightglow iris depending on how the light hits them, the angle of Vash’s face. Not when they finally have time. 

Wolfwood follows the faint, crackling lines in the corner of Vash’s left eye, right above his little mole, with the pad of his thumb. Both hands travel upward from there, gently rubbing circles about Vash’s temples, kneading his scalp and lathering the dark strands of hair further. 

“Quit squirmin’, ya missed a spot. ‘s what happens when ya only got one arm to work with, huh. Too busy gawkin’ at me with yer big saucer eyes, maybe…”

There’s hardly anything he can think of that Vash can’t do just as well with one arm that he can with two, but Wolfwood likes having the excuse all the same…And no one ever said it had to be a good one. 

Hair, shoulders, upper arm, sides, back. Wolfwood takes his time going from shampooing to soaping skin without accepting any ifs, ands, or buts. He’s earned that much, damn it, and Vash will not dissuade nor distract him. So what if he finds himself cataloguing every new scar, ones both recognizable and not? On the grand scale of things, finding Vash sooner would not have changed anything. There are more years to account for than the length of his own natural lifespan.

Somehow, Nicholas feels responsible anyway.

At the very least, he can keep his hands busy while he answers the rest of Vash’s questions. “The way I had it explained to me…My heart was cooked. A regular human heart wasn’t gonna cut it between all the shit Conrad and Chapel put me through. So they got a little creative. Recovered my file out of his archives, found some old notes the good doctor left behind.”

Wolfwood had expressly asked not to see that particular document despite Luida’s suggestions. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know or relive any single part of that life.

The words do not come easy. Wolfwood’s voice becomes halting and tense as he tries to keep it steady, “It’s artificial, more or less. Infused with Plant ‘n Plant energy…Wasn’t real clear on the distinction at the time, if I’m bein’ honest. There’s still a chance that my body might randomly decide to reject the damn thing, but so far so good.”

In hindsight, Luida’s deadpan delivery of all the things that could go wrong with his new heart seems almost comical. It might also randomly explode, stop working altogether, or suddenly run out of power, but Vash doesn’t need to live with that knowledge right now.

Damn it. 

He’s lost track of how many times he’s scrubbed at this part of Vash’s back. Change of subject, then.

“Anyway, what the hell is this about you goin’ to jail? Everyone on Home was bein’ all tight-lipped about it whenever I tried to ask.”

[lokissweater]

hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.

sending love! - anon

OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333

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oh my god, pretty!

{yuji itadori x f!reader}

summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.

warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.

word count: 3.9k

authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333

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“are you okay baby?”

no you were not.

because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.

yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.

and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.

there was a problem though.

neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.

it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.

but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.

but then there was another problem.

neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.

“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.

you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.

except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.

and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.

“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”

he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”

you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.

in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.

“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”

your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.

since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.

“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”

he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.

“okay!”

he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.

“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”

you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”

“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.

he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—

your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.

your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.

“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”

he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.

“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”

but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.

“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.

“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”

yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.

and your thoughts were identical to his.

timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.

“o—okay…”

his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.

“can i… can i do it again?”

you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.

but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.

“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.

“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.

but he knew.

he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.

yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.

your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.

“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”

“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.

and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.

yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

you were fucking killing him.

he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.

“m—maybe—”

he pulled back fast.

“yeah?”

“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”

“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”

you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.

you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.

you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.

“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.

“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”

“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”

his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.

yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.

but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.

and then he got an idea.

as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.

yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.

“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.

“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”

your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.

“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.

“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.

yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.

“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”

you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”

he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.

“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”

yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.

“i want to but— hic!”

he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.

“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”

he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”

you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.

you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.

“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“shhh honey shhh—”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”

his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.

“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.

“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.

“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.

“like— like this?”

you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.

“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.

your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.

“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”

smack smack smack—

“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”

his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.

yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.

“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”

“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.

“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”

you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.

but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.

“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”

yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.

“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”

“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”

you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.

“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”

he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.

“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.

“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”

you giggled. “s’okay honey.”

he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.

“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.

“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”

you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.

you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.

he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.

you quirked a brow. “what?”

“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”

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